To Be A Runner

Chapter 11: A Voice In The Dark

Running. It became my life after the apocalypse. It saved lives, so many lives, but now it won't be able to save mine.

The coolness of the autumn night causes the constant sweat that my body releases to chill my skin and leave my teeth rattling together. I clench my jaw in hopes to keep the zoms from hearing, and I feel the regret of leaving that jacket lying there on the table.

My hands and fingers are cramping from the tight grip I have on my axe. I haven't lessened it from my grip since I fled New Canton, which feels to be an eternity ago.

My feet are numb from pain. It took about an hour of running for them to beginning aching, another two to make the pain unbelievable, and now, however long it's been seeing as I've lost count, there's no pain at all. No feeling.

I guess I should get used to it, since I know the truth-what's going to happen to me.

I'm going to die tonight.

Denying it would be pointless. I know. The chances of me making it unbitten by sunrise are slim to none. I hate the thought of me becoming one of those things, but it's most likely going to happen. I'm most likely going to die.

I raise my axe over my head before bringing it down on another zombie, effectively ending it and keeping myself alive for a little longer. I can't stand the thought of someone doing the same for me, but I know I can't run forever, and there's no shelter for miles.

I start going again, pushing my weakening body to go faster when I hear the groaning of the undead in the otherwise silent night. I know soon enough exhaustion will take over, and I'll pass out to become the meal of whichever zom that happens to shamble by.

I swallow down the bitter taste of bile as the thoughts swirl around my head like a tornado. I've never actually thought about dying by a zombie. I thought it would be something like a sickness or maybe-if I got lucky-old age. I never imaged I'd die at the young age of fifteen and... what, three fifths? Something like that. The thought itself nearly brings tears to my eyes.

No! I think to myself angrily, squeezing my eyes shut. I'm not going to become one of them! If I'm going to die I'm going to stay dead. I know where I'm going afterwards...

But still I feel like I could have done so much more. That I could've helped and eased my guilty conscience a bit more before leaving this world to head towards heaven.

Guess I'll get to see Wes again. I smile tightly. I come to a stop, my breathing labored but quiet to keep from drawing extra attention. This is the first time in a while I've been away from any zombies. And I know I'll use my time wisely.

I look down at my bloodied axe. I'll have to do the same thing to myself as I have with zoms if I don't want to get infected, but even if I did do that, my corpse would still be lying around to be eaten. I don't want that. I'd rather give Abel a chance to find my body-to know I'm gone.

Then it hits me.

The rope.

I quickly shrug off my backpack and pull the coil of rope from my bag, cringing when the electrical supplies clink together noisily.

Janine's lucky I didn't just scatter them along as I ran.

The thought came to me more that once, but I refrained from doing so because the Township needs these, not just Janine. I think of the few people in Abel that I'll miss as I run to a nearby tree. Willis and Milo, seeing as they stayed eager to get to know me even after the new started wearing off, and Penelope too, even with her shyness.

Caleb. I'll miss him even if I have only known him for about a week or so. He's funny, and kind, although he did tease me about liking Sam.

Which I don't...