Road To Ruin

The End of the Fucking World

~ 2 months after the outbreak ~

     The sun beats down on me as I trek my way through the loosely dense trees. They offer some cover from the sunlight, but nowhere near the amount I'd like. It has to be nearly 100°F today, I can practically hear my skin sizzling. Sweat pours down my face, my back, my neck. I know I'm dehydrated but I'm on my last bottle of water and I'm nowhere near civilization. I have been walking for days without any real destination. Just trying to get far away from where I came from, I suppose.
    
     After another few hours of torturous heat and miles of walking, I can feel myself wearing down and thankfully the sun is beginning to set. As good a time as any to stop and find a tree to set up a camp for the night in. About 20 feet in front of me I spot a large pine tree that I'm pretty sure I'll be able to climb. It's incredibly dangerous to sleep on the ground by yourself and although it's not the most comfortable situation in the world, I opt for trees. As much as I've gathered, zombies can't climb them.
    
     I make my way up the tree slowly, testing the sturdiness of each branch as I go. I stop about 15 feet above the ground and situate  myself in a small fork made by two branches with my back pressed against the base of the tree. This should be a safe height so long as I don't fall out of it.
    
     I remove my bag from my shoulders which contains the entirety of my belongings and do my daily inventory check. It's not necessary being as I own very little stuff, but it gives me something to do every night to take my mind off of things for a short while. It's not much, but it's enough to survive. Aside from the clothes I'm wearing which are just a form fitted black tank top, light denim skinny jeans turned almost brown from sweat and dirt, a black belt, and a pair of worn in black boots, I don't have much clothes. Just an extra grey t shirt and long sleeve, an extra pair of socks and underwear, and a thin waterproof windbreaker.
    
     Along with the clothes I have a few things I've managed to scavenge from old stores and abandoned houses. There's a very thin but insulating sleeping bag that rolls up small enough to fit into your pocket, a few lighters courtesy of my parents old smoking habit, a flashlight and spare batteries, a Swiss army knife, a compass and a small first aid kit. In addition to my more essential supplies, I have a picture of me and my family that I keep in my journal as a book mark, some hair ties, a hair brush, toothbrush and toothpaste, and some tampons. My food and water supply is starting to run dangerously low. I'm down to a can of soup, a pack of crackers, and half a bag of beef jerky with my one remaining water bottle. Tomorrow's focus will be finding food and water. I won't make it much longer out here without something to drink.
    
     And of course I have my weapons. A pocket knife and pistol, both used to be my dad's. I've got roughly 50 rounds for my pistol which seems like a lot until you consider the fact that I could run into a large hoard of zombies at any time. I've been searching for a larger gun or possibly a sword, but my luck hasn't been great and lately I've avoided any houses or stores. The closer you are to civilization, the more likely you are to encounter trouble. Even out here in the woods there's the occasional straggler that I've had to take out which is why I never take my chances on the ground.
    
     A trick I've learned over the past 2 months by myself, is to buckle yourself into the tree to insure you don't fall out if it. The sun has just about completely set when I wrap my belt around the tree limb and buckle myself in, throwing my bag back over my shoulders. I take a deep breath and lean my head back against the tree, shutting my eyes. Even if I wasn't so tired, it's too dangerous to travel at night anyways so I might as well try to sleep and get as well rested as possible for another long day tomorrow.
    
     I know I'm lucky to have made it this far on my own. My family wasn't nearly as lucky. Neither was about 90% of the world's population. It all happened pretty fast, no one had time to prepare. It was like one day we just woke up and the world had gone to complete shit. No one even knows what really started this whole thing. The CDC was overrun before they could figure out what was causing the virus that was making people go mad. The only thing they managed to tell us was that we should avoid the infected at all costs; don't get bit. That's what transmits the virus. Once you're bit, you're overcome by fever and infection and it slowly makes it's way through your body and kills you. But you don't just die. Within an hour to 24 hours of your death, you come back. But you're not you anymore. You're something entirely different. You don't think, you don't feel, you have no emotions. The people that come back are driven by only one thing.
    
     Hunger.
    
     Welcome to the end of the fucking world.