Z-Nation Imagines

JJ

I was four years old when I started to lose my hearing. My parents started to notice that I didn't respond to quiet voices anymore. The doctors said all the tiny bones in my ears were underdeveloped and would not grow with me past what they had already. The loss got worse and worse as I got older, and now, at 19, I barely hear anything.

I was lucky enough to have been able to learn to speak aloud. My parents also made the effort to learn sign language with me. They could not afford any surgeries to correct my problem, but I didn't mind. Being hard of hearing had just become who I was, and being a part of deaf culture was an honor. It became a part of who I was.

I was homeschooled until I was fifteen, when the apocalypse began. There wasn't much use or time for furthering my education after that...I was just trying to stay alive. And I was alone. My parents were older folks, and serious hippies. They refused to kill any of the Zs when they came to our small cottage in the desert. They died quickly. I mercied them and wandered through the desert alone for several days before I found civilization.

I was severely dehydrated and had only an old crowbar as a weapon. The only people I found...weren't people anymore. That was four years ago. I encountered a few people here and there while I wandered, but it just didn't seem right to go with any of them. My being hard of hearing seemed to freak people out when I met them. They saw my hearing loss as dangerous and a burden. After all, how could I know when a zombie was coming if I couldn't hear it?

What I never told them was the extra sense I seemed to develop during my time alone. Whenever a zombie was near, the hairs on the back of my neck bristled like the hair on the back of an angry dog. I could smell the dead too. The rest of the senses tend to heighten when one is lost. I just never had a problem avoiding or killing Zs after a while.

I was in a small suburban neighborhood near one of the larger cities in the area, going through the different houses for supplies. I got lucky and there were only a few Zs wandering around. I took them out easily, using a slightly more modified version of my crowbar. I had gotten weirdly attached to it and couldn't bear to get rid of it in favor of a fancier weapon. It got the job done, anyway. When I came out of a house and saw the red and orange streaks across the sky, I cursed under my breath and went across the sticky pavement to the next house.

I'll just stay here tonight.

I glanced around quickly, scanning my surroundings, before creeping up to the wide front door. My hand was light on the knob and shook as it turned. I prayed that the door wasn't squeaking as it opened. A sigh of relief emptied from my chest when there were no Zs in the house. I laid on the couch in the living room and quickly drifted off, cuddling my crowbar close to my chest.

My eyelids snapped open as I felt the shift of air in the room on my bare arms and I was to my feet in an instant, crowbar ready. The door crept open. My heart thrummed out an unsteady rhythm and my fingertips pulsed around the tight grip on the rough metal of my crowbar. At last, the intruder showed themselves...in the form of a tall boy that couldn't have been much older than I was.

Both of our weapons were raised and ready to strike. His would absolutely win. A high-powered rifle was grasped in his gloved hands. A small group of people crowded behind him, all staring at me with wide eyes. Their eyes weren't nearly as wide as the boy's, though. His were the size of two pale moons, and dark in the fading light of the late sunset.

For a moment, we all just stared at each other. I didn't even dare let out a breath. At long last, someone's lips moved. The woman was dark, and I could barely make out the words on her lips in the dim light.

"Easy, we aren't here to hurt you. We are just looking for some shelter for the night." She lowered her weapon slowly, motioning for the others to do the same.