I grip my crowbar tight in my hands, and bash the zombies head in. I've been living on my own for a while. No one to talk to or walk with. No parents. No friends. No nothing. I shove my hands into the zombie's pocket, $10. Come to think, this man died with ten dollars in his pocket.
I stand back up and wipe my hands on my jeans, stained with blood. I push the zombie to the tree line, and keep making my way forward.
Sweat beads drop off my forehead. I wipe them away, only for them to come back.
•••
I sit down on a tree stump after a while. I look to my left, trees as far as the eye can see. To my right, huge plains, filled with weeds and tall grass. I haven't seen anybody, that's alive, in months. Last time I did, they tried to kill me. I won't be making friends with anybody for a while. I made a checklist in my head of what not to do. Don't take people in, don't get stuck, don't cry, don't die.
Simple as that.
I put my elbows on my knees and rest my chin in my hands. Now what? I just, sit here and wait? No, I can't, I have to keep moving, keep killing, keep killing.
It's starting to get dark, so I slip my backpack off and throw it up onto a big oak tree, my crowbar still in my hands. I look around me, to see if any zombies are around. I don't see any, so I hoist my crowbar and myself up into the tree. My foot slips and I scrape my leg on the bark, but I get back up into the tree, and try not to slip. I lay on the tree and close my eyes, falling asleep, under the moonlight and stars.
YOU ARE READING
Alone
Mystery / Thriller"Firess! Wake up!" My mother's screams echo down the hall, but I'm to late, the monster has engulfed her flesh. I cry in silence, wondering when this will all be over.
