Days Left Behind

Chapter one: The Will of a Survivor

The apocalypse is a funny thing.
In the old world, I lived on 1397 Buck road In a small ranch in a quiet suburb of Texas. Its been 5 years but I still remember day one like it was yesterday. I was at school when the outbreak happened, I was ten. I was sitting in my desk drawing when the principal came over the loudspeaker calling for a lockdown, but it was too late. The infected were already in the building. Our teacher herded us out of the back door ensuring everything was ok, it was not. When her voice stopped calming us and started yelling and screaming for her beloved students to run I turned around and there she was, being devoured by walkers. They opened her up chewing and gnawing on her battered corpse. I ran all the way home which was about a mile and when I got there I locked all the doors and tried to call my mom from the home phone, no answer. Next, I tried my dad, no answer. There I was ten years old on 1397 Buck road In a small ranch in a quiet suburb of Texas, alone and afraid.

I never went outside for a fear of being eaten. This worked until I ran out of food which took only two years. I had gone hunting with my dad so I already knew how to shoot, he owned two guns a hunting rifle and a p90 luckily enough ammo for both guns to take out a small army. I ran out of food so I had two options leave or starve. I packed up what little I had and all the ammo and left, I never saw that house again. The open road was now my home.

I looked up the and the welcome to Georga road sign was about ten feet in front of me glimmering in the noon sunlight. A walker stumbled out into the open road I drew my knife and plundged it into its head its body went limp and slumped to the ground with a moist thud. "Mercy" I sighed. My walker-kill count had to be close to five-thousand but I stopped counting after the zombie crocodiles. 

    I came to a small gas station the shelves were basically empty but still had a few energy bars and a snack-size bag of chips. I started filling my backpack when I heard a low growl from the back and a walker came shuffling out of the dark and into the daylight. I let it get just out of reach then with one swift swing of my knife it was dead "mercy" I muttered. His body went limp and fell to the floor with a soft thud. Just as I was about to leave a white truck came to a screeching stop in the gas station driveway. Two men got out, the driver was older, about sixty wearing a dirty white shirt and blue overalls,  the other man was about sixteen and was wearing a red torn baseball cap. The younger man opened the truck bed hopped up and picked up a girl of about twenty who was gagged and hogtied, he threw her over his shoulder and laid her face down in the dirt. The girl kicked and tried to get up and away but the bounds were too tight. The older man flipped her over and removed the gag "why did you steal from us" He shouted about five inches from her face. No response. He shouted again but this time she spits in his face. He slapped her with the back of his hand and told the other man "Dutch, mercy this thief." Dutch unsheathed his knife put it to her thought but hesitated. The older man who was watching from about a foot away got a bit closer and said: "what are you waiting for?"  "I'm sorry paw" he responded, "I just can't kill like you." I grabbed my 1888 Mosin Nagant hunting rifle from my back looked through the scope at the older man, slid the bolt into place and pulled the trigger. The man was screaming at dutch "you stupid...." his words trailed off and he looked down, a dime-sized hole in his chest and blood covering his overalls and his shirt. I slid the bolt back ejecting the empty case and pushed the bolt back into place loading another shot. I looked through the scope at Dutch who was now running toward the truck leaving his dead father and the tied up woman behind. Just as he reached the driver door I pulled the trigger the 7.62 caliber round landed at the base of his skull.