When August Ends

Are We Losing Our Edge?

"Anything can be gotten back except time wasted."

- Kevin Gates

Troy's P.O.V

       It's been two  weeks in this place and it's nice. It's been peaceful. Restful. No  killing, no loss. I toss and turn less at night. There's always food and  something peaceable to do. Almost feels like the apocalypse never  happened.

     But then I step outside of my nice new little house and I see  the infected's through the fence and I remember that we are still in  danger. And that it may be dangerous for us to be becoming so content here. I'm afraid we are getting weaker in this setting. It's easier for  us to relax and forget that there is a battle we will have to face once  again eventually. This place is wonderful, just we are growing slow  witted. While the sentiment of a permanent home here is enticing, it's  unrealistic, and will prohibit our survival in the future that we WILL  have to face again. But I don't have the heart to pull my people back  into that thought process when they are so content. They deserve a  little peace, and I suppose there's no harm in allowing it for a period.  I just fear what would happen if an event presented itself and we were  slow because of this peace. There seems to be no balance between  peaceful living and survival.

      My mind wanders to Jack and where he may be, and why we keep losing people. I'm standing here contemplating peace but who am I kidding? Is it really peace if we're missing one of ours at this very moment? I'm not at all optimistic of his survival if I'm honest. Of course I'd never voice that, I wouldn't want to show my people the attitude of hopelessness. And I don't mean that in a way of pride. I used to be prideful. I used to adore myself. But now I recognize my influence and I recognize that I have other people looking to me and it doesn't make me feel prideful it makes me feel responsible. Responsible to provide an image of hope. Even when I have none within me. So I pretend. And maybe, at the end of the day that's still pride, hiding my fear so I appear strong for everyone to see. But I don't think of it that way. I think of it as a small way to provide my friends comfort. And at least I try to do that. No one does it for me. Maya used too. But it seems I'm supposed to just do it all alone now.

     I'm walking alongside the fence now, looking at the ground as I listen to the fence rustle as the dead thrash against it and scream for my flesh and the flesh of those here with me. Flesh in general really. They aren't picky. I can't bring myself to hate them anymore. They just make me sad. It is necessary to kill them but I don't hate them. They were us once. They were more than uncaring gluttons once. As I approach the corner of the fence I stop and look up at the sky. The sun is shining extremely bright and when I look back down at eye level, past the dim dead at the fence I see green grass flecked with red and yellow flowers. How pretty. Maybe everyone else isn't losing their edge. Maybe it's just me.