Afterlife

1: Loneliness

So, I sort of got lucky. Sort of.

Fortunately, my family had been wealthy enough to have a fence around their house. Unfortunately, by the time I got back to my parents' house, they had died, or been bitten, or had run off. I'm hoping they simply ran off, and that they are alive, somewhere.

But that's highly unlikely.

"Fucking pineapple? Really?" Making a face at the can, I put it back on its little shelf in the basement pantry. "Motherfucking pineapple. Of all the things you guys could have kept down here..."

Of course, I'm talking to myself, because no one else is here. In fact, I may be the only living human for blocks, maybe even in the whole city. Though, I really hope not. Loneliness is rather lonely. Plus, if something happens while I have no backup, I'm screwed. I don't even have a gun. Which, apparently, is a bit of an asset in a zombie apocolypse.

I sigh, trying to block out the gnawing feeling of despair at having more or less lost my family. Though, perhaps it's best if I don't have to watch them suffer and die. Or not die.

My stomach rumbles audibly. I settle for a can of corn, bringing it up to the kitchen. I rummage around for a can opener, finding it exactly where we used to keep it when I still lived at home. With it, I cut open the can, drain the corn, then dig in with a clean spoon.

"Foooooood," I practically moan, my mouth full as I lean back against the chrome fridge. As I've learned, it's kind of difficult to walk into McDonald's, expect food, and walk out alive.

Though, I suppose it's always been that way, sort of.

Too soon, my excuse for a dinner is finished. I toss the empty can into the chrome garbage bin and wash the spoon, thankful that the water still runs. I suppose, since both the water and electricity are working, there has to be someone in the city who's still alive. I mean, unless the zombies are running things, but I doubt that.

Finished with dinner, I take my old hockey stick upstairs with me, intending to sleep in my old room with it as a weapon, just in case. I may as well get some sleep while there is still some light; night time is a dangerous time to be vulnerable.

Taking a quick walk through the rooms upstairs, I check them and out the windows for any sign of the undead, not intending to become one of them, myself. I'd rather not smell like rotting flesh, thanks.

"Welp," I say to myself cheerfully, leaning to one side as if actually talking to a person. "Goodnight, Savannah."

Leaning to the other side, I reply mockingly, "Goodnight, Savannah. I'll just be in this room, if you need me. Just scream, okay?"

"Sure thing, Savannah," I respond, leaning the other way. "I'll just wake up the whole fuckin' undead world by screaming for you. No problem. Will do."

Glancing in the mirror at myself, I chuckle, shaking my head. "God, you're weird, Sav..." Turning away, I enter my old bedroom and contemplate over whether or not to close the door. I either risk the chance of being attacked in my sleep, or being faced with my imminent doom as soon as I open the door.

Choices in life. Not to be taken lightly.

"Fuck it." The door shuts quietly, and I crawl into bed with lights on after changing into PJs.