Whispers Of The Dead

Chapter One: Restricted

A/N ~ Hello, I hope you like my zombie apocalypse based story :)

Would like to hear feed back, hope you enjoy.

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 Chapter One: Restricted

 Date: June 5th

The bible had said that the deceased would come back. Come back to the living. I thought Christ had a different way for our loved ones to come back. A better way.

 They come back as monsters, not the ones we love. Their soul and their minds are dead, yet their bodies move, hunt, and kill. Their skin rotten, maggots falling from their insides. Black blood staining their clothes. Their hair a tangled mess. Their eyes a dull, lifeless grey. That’s what they are, lifeless. Just the carcasses of the living rising from the dirt to eat, destroy, and expand. Their purpose no more than to kill.

 Father, Harrison and I have made the ranch safe. Many of our horses and animals are dead, because of the lifeless monsters. Three horses left, two cattle and a bull. Five or so chickens and two roosters, two sheep. Father’s australian shepherd, Riley, and my doberman, Mercello, guard the house. Both of their strong hearts still beating. Albert and Disselie are both gone, may god keep those two dear mutts safe.

 Father turns away all travelers, saying that anyone on the outside is just another monster who’s heart still beats. Three groups have tried to join us on the ranch, but father told them off. The crops are doing well, but we fear they will not survive the up coming winter. The walls around the ranch are strong, built of broken cars, boards, trees, whatever we can find. The gate at the front of the ranch holds two dead beats, their rotting carcasses skewered on sharpened sticks. Set up on the sticks as a ‘keep out’ sign. Hopefully when people see the two dead on the sticks, they’ll leave us alone.

 Father is slowly losing his mind to immense loss and hell rising up around our little ranch. Harrison and I fear we are not far behind.

 ~ Alice Johnson

 ~*~*~

 The muddy leaves and sticks squish and squirt as Jonathan Williams follows the deer tracks. His rifle strapped over his shoulder, and various sized knives hanging from his belt. He needed a walk to get away from the group, the walkers, and just.. everything. No one worried when he went on his walks, for they all knew he would come back. Most often he came with food or supplies. The first few times he had left, no one wanted him to go. But now, people most commonly wanted him to leave. 

 No one knew what he did on his walks, no one needed to know. His walks were his escape. Where he forgot about the hell bubbling up around everyone, he forgot about everything he had lost. Johnny bends down on one knee and looks around. “Cam, why are you following me?” Johnny asks, turning around to see the twelve year old blonde girl standing from afar. 

 “I’m not following you,” Camille says suddenly, peeking from the tree she stood behind. 

 “Well, why’re you here?” he asks, putting his hand on his hips. Camille sighs and steps towards him slowly.

 “I wanted to know what you do on your walks, where you go, what you say,” she says, looking at the ground awkwardly.

 “Leave, now,” Johnny says sternly, “You don’t need to know any of that shit, so go back to the camp. You are going to get hurt out here, go back to your mother,” he grumbles, turning his back to her and continuing to follow the deer tracks. 

 “I don’t know the way back,” Camille says quietly. Johnny turns to her and glares.

 “Seriously? I know these woods by the back of my hand, and you get lost after a ten minuet walk?” he scowls, crossing his arms. Camille stares at him, her eyes welling with tears. “You frigging drama queen,” he sighs, walking towards Camille and grabbing her wrist gently. “Come on,” he grumbles as he pulls Camille towards camp. “Never follow me again,” he hisses over his shoulder.