Reason Why

2. New Life

I guess everyone figured out that after a year or two the world wasn't going back to normal anytime soon. The Lost still roam. They're still greater than we are, more of them. It's hard to explain what the Lost are exactly. But they are not zombies. They don't die and come back craving zombies. At first nobody knew how it worked. Over time we all began to figure it out piece by piece. We learned that the disease, or whatever it was that spread this crazy thing-started through internal contact. For example if their blood or spit or such got into you somehow..well there is no cure. You were going to become one of them. Lost.

First you will slowly get sick, with blisters beginning to form everywhere. Your skin will also turn yellow to a grayish and even begin to peel away in some cases. But through it all you won't die. No, you'll slowly suffer. The disease will make you feel everything that is happening and there's not a thing anyone can do about it. Every urge and terrible thing. Your mind isn't completely lost until you've suffered far beyond insanity.

The thing is, it's not always easy to tell when someone has it. These days the soon to be Lost can still walk with you, talk to you. The cycle lasts from either a month to 2. And the middle of it is when it begins to get unbearable. I've seen enough shotgun cartridges to know it's the worst pain you can go through. And giving up will end up seeming like the best, the only option. Then I've seen the ones who don't give up. Who couldn't. By the third or so way through the cycle they'll start behaving differently. Their hands will itch to touch anything alive. To attack, but never eat. It's the need to spread the disease to others. Sometimes the attacks will kill their victims and most of the time not. It's the ones that don't survive the attacks who are most lucky.

Once a women attached and scratched at her husband's face so bad he was mauled practically to death. His skin was scratched off like an orange peel. The look in her eye was frantic and overall insane as he screamed a horrible blood curdling sound. I could never forget the look she had when she turned to see me in the doorway, a short 5'3 figure in a white hood. It was like a flicker, and a clearness was turned on. His screams long ago stopped to a choking silence. I stood there when her own sobs began. She shrieked and cried, and I knew I could never forget that moment. What the disease does. I was 12.

The Lost and the Changing. In the end all your humanity is taken from you and all that's left is a soulless, mindless body. A body that will attack anything living that lives to see life end. This is how things are now.

*******

We've walked a good mile or two and by the rasping of the kids breathing I know they can't keep going like this for long. Scanning the wooded green surroundings I bounce the little girl up farther on my back and let out a deep sigh of relief. We're there. The faintest sound of running water is my map now. I don't quicken my pace but watch the kids more keenly for a minute. The eldest boy still holds the girl's hand firmly with a tired look of exhaustion and determination. The six year old girl on my back is limp, but I can hear her soft breathing by my ear. It should be the younger girl, but the boy refused. His responsibility, he had told me strongly. And I nodded.

     Just a little bit in front of me are the other two boys. Eight and six. They carefully lean on each other for support. Their dusty shoes drag against the harsh earth, but they keep going. Slow and steady, but we all go slow together. One stops, we all do. It's a silent agreement among us and they know it. My small temporary group. Five more kids I'll save and give an actual life. I'm the Ghost after all.

     Sparkling blue water reflects the light and suddenly everything gets so brighter. So much more hopeful. The kids' faces lighten up and I feel my lips curling up as well.

     "It's clean water," I tell them. And just like that ten thin legs push themselves to the limit. Knees drop to the sandy bank that revealed itself from the never ending forest. Dusty pale, boney bodies so incongruous to the vibrant colors and life around them. I can feel my heart break a little.

     I lower myself to the ground and watch them bring fresh cold water to their trembling lips. The whole air around them suddenly feels cleaner and filled with so much more..freedom.

I tear away my watchful eyes and pull my legs out from underneath me, taking this moment to regroup. I stretch, black legging covered legs sprawl in from of me. I then reach for one of the hand sewn pockets on the side, above my knee. I pat it and sure enough I can feel 3 outlined shapes of my throwing knives. On my left knee; another patch holds bandages, a piece of fabric held down by two buttons. Wedged into my knee high combat boots are another 4 sharp knives in leather sheathes. And at my waist is a belt. This contains a flashlight, bottle of antibacterial disinfecting spray, my Swiss army pocket knife and dangling in it's leather sheath is my long dagger. My main weapon of choice. The daggers rigged edge barely allows my fingers to run along its sharp edge without drawing blood.

     A splash attracts my attention, causing my head to snap up immediately. The youngest little girl must've tried walking on her own, but her body is now planted into water only a few inches deep. Her dirty pale clothes seem to cling to every bone in her body. Her brother jumps up on unsteady legs, arms outstretched. I can spot the alarm he feels just by the way his body moves. But something remarkable happens. The little girl throws her hands into the water intentionally and giggles. Her brother stops stunned, as do the others and I can't help but smile. This is why. This is why I risk my life daily.

     I gather myself up and walk over to the kids, careful not to alarm them. Still cautious around me they barely take their eyes away, yet I know they still feel safer than they ever have. We still have miles to travel. Maybe a few days to a week tops. But I know they'll make it.

     "Thank you," the boy mouths to me when I look in his directions. I nod. He knows it'll be okay too.

     "I think it's about time to find a place to rest for the night," I gently say to the kids. I know they heard me and I can see the reluctance in their movement toward me. But their trust is growing and the little girl who hours ago looked like and empty lost soul-reaches for my hand with tired dark eyes. This time they hold something. I squeeze her hand gently to reassure her. I almost don't believe it when she replies with the lightest squeeze in return. But I feel it.

     Re-energized we begin to embark farther through the darkening woods. The light leaves the sky but I watch it transfer into five sets of eyes. Just a glimmer, but then again. That's all it takes. New life starts out as just a small sprout.