Lark of the Fence

Together They Rise

The floors are drafty. Of course they would, being a treehouse. Beer bottles line the window sills, completely emptied of their contents. It is a small, square treehouse made of brown rotting wood. I have a sleeping bag in the back corner. My backpack acting as a makeshift pillow. Doesn't sound very comfortable, it isn't. My dead phone within my "pillow" in a plastic bag. Concealed under by my backpack is a gun. I know just about nothing about it, but again that that doesn't stop me from having one. It makes me feel safer in these conditions.

The tree is surrounded by a van, two pickup trucks, and a sedan. All act as walls to the base of the tree, surrounding it in a gigantic car square. The owner of the beer and cars are now wandering the field that surrounds the tree. Gurgling and mumbling their grievances to each other. They are all dead. Did I mention that this is a zombie apocalypse. Kind of important I guess.

I found all of them with bullets in each other. Except for one who I assume was the shooter who blew his brains out with the very gun that sits under my pack.

I make out the situation in my head as they all decided the world went to hell and got drunk one last time. Then they all were disoriented enough to get shot by one of their buddies and then he finished himself off last. I found them all wandering the field except for the one in the treehouse with brains up the wall. This treehouse is about the only thing that keeps me alive longer than most. I live in Indiana. I grew up like most people. I was your standard normal teenager.

I don't like talking about my past self. She was too weak. Crushes, drama, school, and family weakened her. Those were the most important thing in the world to her. Now the most important thing is where I'm going to find my next meal or sip of clean water.

When it all started, news didn't travel very fast in our town, even the apocalyptic type of stuff. It hit us, starting slowly, then it escalated quickly. I had a younger sister and brother. They were both in elementary school, where it first hit our town. They died first. My parents worked at a law firm downtown. Everybody's dead there. My high school is near the border where the farmers live. I was able to escape, but I think my old self was left behind, dead. Wandering the halls of the  bloody school. I needed to leave her behind. It was a sacrifice that I'm glad I made, because I'm alive now. I bolted back to my house where I waited a day and a half for my parent to come home. When I realized that they weren't coming back, I was devastated. I cried for a good portion of the day.

My racket must have stirred the neighbors and I heard them pounding on my door. For awhile I was willing to open that door, welcome them in, and let death takeover. But then a flip switched. Something took over me, and it damn sure wanted to live, so I followed it. It began to lead me around the house, had me gather supplies. I took my phone with me. It's kind of a habit I guess; leave the house with your phone. This presence told me to book it back to the open farm area. I wandered the rest of the day until I found my treehouse in the middle of a grass field. I found myself.

I've taken refuge here for about two weeks. Sneaking out once in awhile to get a meal or water. The power is still up and I have a cord to charge my phone. I don't know how long it will last before the power runs out. When I go out I find an outlet and charge my phone. I have nobody to talk make contact with so I just play stupid games on it. It's better than nothing.

It's funny to comprehend that I'm the last living human being in this town. I have tried to disprove that by searching around, everywhere for another sign of life. I haven't even heard a dog bark. Both on my neighbors had dogs and they barked a lot. Now that it's gone I need it back. It funny how the minute we don't have something it's the thing we need the most.

I love my treehouse. It's not even funny. I am in love with this tree house. Its roof may have holes and rain leaked in that one time, but I forgave it. I have stared at the walls for hours on end and gave them long monologues about my life, old life. I glance out the window time to time to see if the drunks have wandered any closer. There is a bird nest right outside of the tree and three baby birds chirp for their mother. It's nice to see that I'm not the only thing living on this planet.

I'm playing a game when my phone alerts me that I have 20%. I turn it off just in case I might need the flashlight later tonight. I set it down and go to grab my pack. I'm starving. I find a chocolate chip off brand granola bar deep at he bottom of my stash. This will hold me off until tomorrow.

Mama bird flies in with a huge worm in her mouth. This is honestly the biggest worm that I've ever seen. She starts to feed her babies. Not wanting to watch that while I'm eating, I turn and scoot over to the edge of the opening and set my feet on the wooden plank nailed into the tree used as a ladder. I set down my granola bar and take a gulp out of my water bottle.

Suddenly, mama bird is next to me taking chunks out of my granola bar. I swat her away and she takes off flying around the treehouse. I chase her around until she flies out the window and my heart drops. On her way out she hits one of the beer bottles sitting on the window sill. I watch it in slow motion as it tips off the window sill into the blue sky behind it. I try to grab it, but it falls towards the van below. It makes contact with the windshield and both the bottle and windshield shatter into a million pieces. And if you don't think that's enough noise to attract one of the drunks wandering the field, the car siren goes off.

The alarm is deafening to the recent silence and the drunks have noticed the car siren, making their way towards the screaming car. Deciding that that siren needs to shut up or I'm dead, so I climb down the planks and sprint to the vans driver door and pull on the handle. Of course it's locked! A drunk has made its way over to the suspicious noise and has noticed me. I'm panicking and start hyperventilating, a problem that I had before. A rock is on the ground, about the size of a baseball. I pick it up and throw it at the drivers window. It hits it but doesn't shatter. Frantically, I push away the glass, unlock and open the door, and search for the keys. I check the sun visor, cup holder, under the seat, in the counsel, and in other compartments but they're not there.

The drunk has gotten stuck on the other side of the car but is learning fast how to crawl. I can hear him gurgling, scolding my name. His fingernails scratch the hood of the car. I'm breaking down, giving in to the inevitable death about to consume me. I shove my head into my arms and curl into a ball. Tears are blurring my vision. His fingers curl around the door. I can smell his deathly aroma. Hear his hissing. Nothing can stop these things, nothing. You can shoot, hit, stab all that you want, but they just won't go down. I'm going to die. He grabs my leg. Then, something flips a switch. I reach behind me, feel for the larges shard of glass from the windshield, and shove it into his head just before he could sink his teeth into me. The glass digs into my hand, blood flows. The car sirens still going off. I see a small glint from the back of his belt. The keys. I grab them with my non-bloody hand and hope to god that these are the right keys. I take the remote and press the alarm button. It becomes silent again.

I would like to sit in my relief but the rest of the drunks are still coming, they don't like to switch direction often. I climb the tree quickly and take my backpack, gun, and sleeping bag and get the hell out of there.

I run for awhile but when I hit a road I stop and walk along it. All the breath is out of me. I'm basically running on fumes. Any drunk for miles would have heard that alarm and started roaming towards it. The treehouse is too dangerous to go back to now. I didn't even get to say goodbye. I haven't noticed my hand for awhile and its stopped bleeding but I need bandages. And a lot of disinfectant. Knowing the road, I walk along it until I hit a corner store with a pharmacy.

Boxes and trash litter the floor. It's obviously been ransacked. I rolled my eyes at the fact that all of the candy is gone from the counters. Good luck on chocolate and sugar idiots! The pharmacy has been raided. Bandages and disinfectant are surprisingly easy to find in all the chaos. I flinch after I run the disinfectant over my hand. I wrap it in bandages and decide that I might as well stock up on food.

Walking down an isle I freeze when I hear growling, deep growling.