Love, Lust and Zombie Guts.

15

Here you go. (:

It was early, yet it was still dark in the living room due to the drawn curtains. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I stood up and peeked through the curtains, checking outside for any sign of walkers.

None.

I sighed, and went through to the kitchen to look for any food that may be of use to the group and me.

I wonder if they worried about me, being gone the whole night. Then my thoughts turned to Daryl, did he care that I was gone? Maybe he would still be angry that I took his bike. Maybe he had just lost interest in me because I took off without telling him. It’s only been a day, but in these crazy times anything can happen, right?

The cupboards were packed with food, cans, dried fruit and nuts, the works. It was almost as if they’d planned for this, yet they couldn’t cope when it actually hit. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fit all of this in the bags on the bike, so I picked up an old backpack that was hanging by the front door and filled it with all of the food.

Opening another cupboard I found alcohol, and lots of it. My hand wavered over the bottles, I knew that drinking wouldn’t be good for me after the phase I went through after Jack died, especially with Dylan around, though it might be good for the rest of the group to be able to let go, even if just for the night. Settling the mental discussion I was having I decided to take the lot.

By now the bag was becoming hard to carry so I left the rest, who knows, other survivors may come by this place and have the same idea as I did. In a way, I’d helped them out, although any survivor would get a shock if they opened the bedroom.

My hand hovered over the front door as I was about to leave, but then I had second thoughts. Going back through to the kitchen I picked up a blank piece of paper and a felt tip as I went and set them on the counter.

I took a step back and ran my hands through my hair, breathing in deeply. Stepping forwards again I picked up the pen and scrawled a note onto the paper. It read:

This world sucks, and I’m sure God will forgive you. Though I didn’t ask permission, thank you for allowing me to stay in your home and eat your food.

It wasn’t much, and I’ve never been good at writing something meaningful, but this helped to ease my conscience. Made me feel better about stealing.

My hand hovered over the door handle about to go out to the bike.

“Aren’t you going to check outside first?” A voice that I haven’t heard in a long time said. I didn’t understand how I was hearing it now though. He was dead but his voice sounded so alive.

“I already did, there’s nothing out there.”

“Check again, Emilia.” Jack demanded.

So I did.

There were walkers everywhere, all over the road and the garden in front of the house. They all seemed to be moving with such purpose, following one another.

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands, searching the empty house desperately for a place to hide until they’re gone.

“Follow me.” Jack said and I turned to him, I could clearly see him. He wasn’t translucent like ghosts are portrayed, it was like he was here, still alive.

But he couldn’t be, his body is buried back in England, he’s six feet under the ground. Dead and Gone.

“You’re not real, you died.” I stammered, finally saying my thoughts of his impossible existence out loud.