Journals From Z-World

August, 13, 2016-Day

I was running from a group of 5 when I saw him. He was just a kid, probably barely in the double digits, and scared as hell. I ran to him and pulled him into a cave with moss hanging over the entrance so they wouldn’t be able to see us right away. He struggled until I showed my teeth proving I wasn’t a savage. He calmed down and stopped squirming.

"Get behind me." I whispered putting myself between him and the entrance. I heard them coming and tensed. I drew my katana, named Yamato, and got ready. I saw them moving on the other side of the moss. They were standing close together and looking around but were completely unaware of us. I leapt out of the cave and decapitated 2 of them in one swing. The other 3 charged me. I stabbed forward into the chest of the middle one then brought it up slicing him in half and sending a fountain of sludgy blood cascading over me and the others. The one on the left rushed me while she screamed. I jammed my blade in her eye while the other came at me. He neared me as I pulled on my blade which was firmly stuck in her eye socket. I swung the one being supported by my blade toward the other one. The blade dislodged from her eye sending her tumbling into the other. The male swung his right hand at her sending her slamming into a nearby tree. He rushed past his dead ally toward me cussing. I stood tall and sliced through his neck decapitating him cleanly. The kid stepped cautiously out of the cave and looked around fearfully. "Don’t worry they’re all dead." I said wiping the blade off on my dilapidated jeans. He ran to me and threw his arms around me. "What’s up with you kid?" I asked pushing him away from me. He smiled up at me and went for another hug. "Great, he’s retarded." I mumbled wondering how he had survived the past 5 years.

"No, I’m not, I’m just happy." he said looking up at me.

"How old are you kid?" I asked.

"9." he said happily.

"How are you still alive?"

"My mom took care of me until…….a few days ago." he said sadly. I nodded understandingly.

"Let’s move. More will come to investigate." I said turning to walk away. I heard the kid come running behind me and fall into step. I didn’t have to turn around to know that he was looking at me like I was god, the same way I looked at my father back when I was a little kid before all this shit happened. We made camp a few miles away from where I killed them. The kid never complained once during the long trek. I was surprised and pleased. We were sitting around the fire cooking an uninfected rabbit when he spoke up.

"I’m Tim. What’s your name?" he asked holding his hand out to me.

"You can call me Reaper, every one does. I‘ll probably just call you kid." I said shaking his hand.

"Why do they call you that?" he said putting his hands in his lap.

"It‘s a nickname I got during the war, back when we still thought we could fight them. It‘s actually Black Reaper but Reaper’s fine." I said trying to chase away a memory of the war.

"But you’re not black." he said puzzled.

"No shit." I said sarcastically. "I think they call me it because I always wear black or just because it sounds cool. I’m not really sure." I said telling him my puzzlement of the nickname I had earned during my time at war.

"What are they?" he said changing the subject.

"Seriously?" I asked dumbfounded.

"Yeah, my mom never told me what they were. She just called them they." he said emphasizing the they.

"Uh, OK. Well do you know what a zombie is?" I asked him. Pulling my backpack out and starting to rifle through it.

"No." he said blankly.