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It almost felt like that day. Almost.
With the greening, algae covered ravine and each stray rock littered along the edges unrecognizable in layers of moss, she could have sworn she was back home in King County. Even the branches on the unusually large oak tree sprouted in all the right places, the one where she would spend her evenings lounging fitting under her just right, her back against the main trunk and her legs supported along the length of the bark. It sat above the raging stream, thick and sturdy as the leaves tumbled from the trees just like they had three years prior. Yet, the looming pines had an ominous feel to them, unlike back in her hometown when she would travel freely through the forested areas. It was something different. It sent chills from the nape of her neck down the back of her spine, and made the hairs stand erect on her honey colored arm.
Maybe it was the walker clawing at her tattered shoes. It emitted and unearthly groan from the back of it's throat, it's long and yellowing fingernails doing it's best to latch onto her leg. She remembered the first time she'd ever seen one of the dead. Her eighteenth birthday on the news station. It's face was peeling and bloodied, his eyes a sickly color, but it was nothing compared to what she'd witnessed the three years since that day. They continued getting worse, their flesh rotting and smelling absolutely vile as time passed on. She couldn't imagine what they'd look like if she happened to live another three years.
She'd let it claw and snap it's jaw for five minutes before she sent a powerful kick to it's temple. It stumbled back and fell to the ground, just enough time to let her climb down the large dense trunk. Wiping her hands on her pants, she decided if she'd have to listen to another minute of the walker's moans and groans, she'd end up throwing herself at it just to make it stop. Gripping onto the hilt of her knife, she pulled it from the waistband of her pants and plunged it deep into the walker's skull. Its ungodly noises immediately stopped as its movements faltered and it fell to the ground. She figured it must have been a redneck of some sort. Although it's remaining hair was sparse, she could still make out a mullet to accompany it's tattered and worn down red plaid, buttoned to the top.
She tried to repress the painful and acidic vomit that pushed it's way up her throat. It was quick as she hunched against the thick tree. She'd never get used to the sight of a corrupt decomposing body, especially when they still had the ability to roam on two feet and snap their jaws. Although most times she could hold herself together, it was something about the disease bearing, decaying creatures lurking the woods that looked eerily similar to her childhood hang out spot. It was a sacred area to her, and to have it ruined by a bloodied, dead monster was her worst nightmare. Literally. Had she been a few years younger, she would have plunged into the ravine trying to get away.
Twisting back to the thick oak, she traced the tip of her finger gently against the rough bark. It ripped easier than the one in her hometown. It was also smaller, she noticed, as she took a step back and really sized it up. She could tell the difference. If she was in King County, her initials would have been neatly etched into the side of the trunk. There would have been ribbons scattered in the dirt and ropes swinging from the trees. The ravine wouldn't have the distasteful aroma of death and there wouldn't be a flesh eating creature sprawled at her feet.
