[0.4] ▸ THE BOY

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[ Vision by Hucci x Dom Sebastian ]
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                               Madison
       I'm going to need something to drink, and soon. A mere seven minutes of treading through desolate forest drains me of almost every last drop of energy, and I stop to catch my breath more often than what I'm sure is healthy.

       Perhaps there is some way I can quench my thirst out here without having to scour through another town? I learned once in the sixth grade that you can extract water from trees using a tap, but that's only if you have one. Otherwise, the only other thing that can help you is a stream. Or the rain. Judging by the clear sky and blistering air that engulfs me, I'm doubtful of coming across either. I suppose the most practical thing I can do right now is to seek out some sort of house around here, similar to one of those cabins lodged in the middle of nowhere that you see in horror films. One of those would most likely have something that can aid me in my dire need for water.

       As my feet drag me along, I start to perspire even more, and my breath begins to stagger out in sharp, staccato bursts. I need to sit down again.  I lug myself over to a nearby tree stump and try to lower my body gently to the ground, when all of a sudden a pinching sensation shoots up the backs of my knees, and I double over. I wince as a horrible plunging feeling washes over my heart, my tailbone soon being met by the firm dirt. Shit. How the hell am I supposed to make it any further?

       I can't keep going on like this. My body is becoming more feeble, notably so, and I don't know how much further my calloused feet will be able to support me in my journey. I station my hands on either side of me in a futile attempt to stabilize myself, the weather-beaten dirt enveloping them like a balmy embrace. That's when a slight movement catches my eye.

       At first, I am unsure as to where to pinpoint what I think I just witnessed. It was swift, but it was there. Somewhere. That's it. The barn. Weaning my head slightly to the left brings the rickety old building into view, the sweet salvation I didn't notice before. I have to make it over there. It seems to be situated a good half-mile away, but I am still able to interpret the rusty red color that lies interrupted in some areas by sections of plain, splintered wood -- places where the paint had chipped right off.

    The movement, though. Now that everything is in perspective, I am quick to decipher it must have have come from the lower-left corner of the place, the hasty flash of what might have been a leg. A walker? Another human? Whatever it was, I only noticed one of them, and I doubt I'm going to find anywhere else to stay, maybe even to get a sip of water. I have to get there.

     Trying to ignore the pounding against my skull and the slight amount of discomfort coming from my bruised rear, I hoist myself up off of the dead earth beneath me.

       One foot after the other. Keep it steady. As I tread towards the building, my thoughts begin to disengage from my body and I can no longer feel the affliction pulsing through my veins and tugging at my heartstrings, but instead a great sense of relief. Though I am not aware how, I continue to move almost robotically, the promise of some sort of shelter guiding me.

I'll live.

       I can't help but to picture my probable resemblance to a biter, dragging my limbs behind me like this, stumbling hungrily through sharp grass and over tall weeds in an insane effort to rob another living creature of its every breath. Is this what Alanna has become? A brainless, emotionless heap of death, eating away at the already dwindling population?

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