Chapter 1

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-2 months later-

Amber was running as fast as she could from two of the infected. They seemed to be newly bitten, as their skin had only just started to turn grey.

She jumped up and onto a car before running over the hood and leaping off the other side.

Rolling onto the concrete, something in her just wanted it all to end, but she knew she couldn't think like that. She continued to run and hid in an alley before reaching out her machete and watching as the two zombies ran into the blade, slicing open their necks.

She wiped the blood onto her jeans, and continued to walk down through the alley. She checked her watch, and sighed when she saw it was already 7 pm. Amber needed to find shelter soon, or she wouldn't be able to see the zombies ahead of her. The building to her right seemed to suffice, as it wasn't littered with infected people.

She found a quiet spot to lay her head, and soon fell asleep.

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-Amber's POV-

My watch beeped to let me know the sky was illuminating. I sighed, and wrapped my jacket around my waist, as I usually used it as a pillow when there was no bed around.

Searching the building, not only did I find a few bitten individuals, I found food, something I realized I haven't eaten in a day or two.

I stuffed the cans into my bag, and even left one out to eat before I exited the unlit factory.

The world was silent as I walked, the sound of my worn-out shoes scuffing the pavement deafening. It was lonely without Max, him being my only solace. Max was my brother, basically my twin. He was only a year older than I was, and much smarter, too. He was brilliant to say the least, always getting straight A's in school, taking up art on the side.

His art was a little dark for my taste, focusing on the beauty of murder. He honestly wasn't a psychopath, he was just good at capturing how blood dripped down a knife or someone's arm.

He was always talented, the only one in the family. My mother was a dentist, and my father, well, he abandoned us when we were younger, but I viewed him as a celebrity, maybe even dabbing in a little science.

I think I got his traits, as I look nothing like my family. I have jet black hair, with unnatural light blue eyes. The rest of them had brown hair and green eyes, but I'm okay with that. I like having something different about me, not always fitting in the box society used to push the world into.

As I'm walking here, there is no society to tell me how to live, or how to eat, not even telling me how to speak. I can do whatever I want, but it's not all that fun.

Its dark, and scary. Lonely. The only living things are the dust bunnies that scurry the homes, and the dreadful walking nightmares themselves.

The bitten, the infected, zombies, whatever you choose to call them, they're terrifying, and you're lucky if you never come across one of them. They have  dripping  skin, and a retched death-like smell to them, if you get too close, you'll be too occupied with vomiting before you can actually kill them.

There have been too many times where I've come close to being eaten alive, that I shouldn't be alive at all.

I walked down the street, listening to the world around me, mostly in search for zombies, but maybe even a hint that this is just a dream. There just needs to be something out of place, a glitch in the sidewalk, or a house with no roof. No such luck.

I turn down the street, and I stop. I take in the scenery before me, and continue down the avenue. I always do this, making sure there's nothing dangerous about crossing.

I hear scuffling feet behind me, and I duck out of place, watching as a bitten soul grabs at the air I once occupied. I grab for the machete I had earlier only to realize it was still back at the factory.

"Shit." I whisper. I needed out of there, a way to get rid of him, and then I heard a gun shot.

Not mine.

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