I miss my mother. I miss her warm home-cooked meals during the harshness of winter. But, what I miss the most from her is her motherly smile. I know I will not see her again. I will never see that comforting smile I've grown to love with each passing day, every single moment of my youth drowning with the loss. Using a pipe, I move the wood around in the pit before me. The fire was warm and blazing. I slide my gloves off and slowly hover my hands over the warm glow. It would most likely snow again in a few days. I dug my hand into my bag nearby, taking out a can and a map. I was slowly getting closer and closer to the promised compound. How I got the map? It was about a week and a half ago or longer, and I was walking down the road with my knife tightly gripped in my fist. Slowly behind me, there was a car with tinted windows. It was impossible to see through them. Without any hesitation, I had quickly dove for cover in the bushes, as silent as a cold night in the tundra. I waited patiently to see what would happen. Then, the car had stopped, and the door had opened slowly. The only thing I had saw was a bag being lowered to the ground, the door closing, then the car driving off, faster than before. Of course my curiosity took over, and I emerged from the bushes to view what was dropped. I crouched down and opened the bag, seeing a rolled up map with a note. A note. The writing told me to follow the map to a safe-haven with guns. Walls. Food. I swallowed and stared down at the map, placing my finger upon the markings. The fire in front of me crackled and I looked up, noticing it was slowly dying down. Besides me I had a few sticks for fuel. They were the fuel for the fire, much like the fuel of my hope was making it to safety.
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Dead Men Walking
FanfictionWhen the world falls into an apocalypse after a zombie virus spreads, people are now fighting for their lives to survive. This follows the lives of Alfred Jones, Arthur Kirkland, and Ivan Braginski.
