I've Never Seen the Stars

Chapter One

"Don't you do it, Jessie. You sit down. Quit moving."

I cocked my gun.

"Goddamn it, Jessie! I said stop!" My cries began to get louder as she took small, slow steps towards me, tilting her blonde head.

"I don't wanna do this. Don't make me do this!" The desperation in my voice making my accent stronger.

"Jessie..." I whimpered.

And with two quick pulls, she falls to the ground.

I wake with a jolt and grab the gun under my pillow, swinging it around like I know how to use it. It doesn't feel right in my hands.

After glaring at a lamp for two minutes, and continuing to swing it around every few seconds, just to make sure, I set it back down, under my pillow and in the case.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair and down my face.

My hair is matted to my forehead and back and my tank top is slightly damp.

I'm not wearing pants.

An audible sigh comes from my nose before I hoist my self off of my bed. I take the time to pretend to stretch and look around my dark red, and slightly messy, room before going down stairs.

I wash my hands before grabbing a cracked bowl and a slightly out of bent spoon for my dry cereal, as I ran out of milk a couple of days ago.

It feels like rocks falling down my throat.

I don't know how long I stay like that, shoving cereal into my mouth, and then an empty spoon before I realize that it is, in fact, empty, but when the little girls, Jessie's, hair pops into my mind, I stand and head towards my shower.

I strip out of my flimsy tank top and undergarments before I look in the mirror. Grey eyes and maroon dyed hair look at me. I keep my hair that color because it's one of the only things I can control. I see other things about me, too.

Thin, dry lips and a strong, small jawline. I can see my cheekbones, but that has always happened. Tan but dry skin.

The girl looks me, but I am not the girl.

At least, I don't think I am.

I take five minutes to wash my hair and body before getting out, because the luxury of shaving and conditioning is not enough of a comfort and too much of one.

The mirror is fogged and I leave it like that, so when I go to look presentable it doesn't have streaks.

I put on my bra and underwear and a tank top and leather but flexible pants, because even though there is no one here and I could have all the designer clothes in the world, it's still dangerous and I need to e able to move. Cover as much skin as possible, even though it's at least 100 out.

At least that's what it feels like.

California wasn't hit until a few days after the first outbreak.

"And here we have another case of bath salts...." The woman on my screen keeps talking, but I'm not listening.

"Mom, what does she mean by bath salts?" I look at her in curiosity and slight suspicion.

"Bath salts usually make people go, um, crazy. The last few people have been eating...eating other people." She wrings her hands and looks at the tv, her eyes still blank.

He hasn't come back yet. Five days now.

I walk into the bathroom and pull out my bag and apply my makeup. Nothing special, though I would consider the makeup itself special.

To little amount of anything to not consider it special.

After that, I grab my Nap Sack and my regular bag and a grocery bag.

The Nap Sack is for emergency only, carry two rounds of ammunition, two pistols, five knives and a few energy and protein bars. Only water and protein drinks are in it with the rest.

My regular bag holds clothes for any occasion.

I walk out the door after I put on my combat boots and shut it before I shove two guns in the holster I took off of a cop five days ago. I shove another in the waist band of my pants an two more go on the holsters across my chest.

My boots hold four knives and I have a gun in my hand. The holsters on my legs each have a small flash bomb and a blinker.

And with all the holsters on me I feel like Alice from Resident Evil: Extinction.

I look up and down the street, acting as if I don't notice the few Vee's down a few houses and cross the street before going through the house.

I walk out of the back door and grab the keys I always leave there, right under the rusty gnome that's missing an eye and three fingers because I had believed it attacked my Barbie, and head back to my house.

I open the garage and in a few minutes, after unnecessarily clean off the invisible spot of dust, I'm five blocks away and heading towards the closest Walmart.

My car is nearly empty though.

It's nothing special, just a regular jeep with four wheel. But I've wanted one way before this.

I stop and fill it and then I'm on the road again and before I can think about what I'm going to get, I pull and park six spots away from the entrance.

I decide to waste a few minutes just because I can and pull out a cigarette.

And with a flick of my lighter, the car explodes.