Z-Nation Imagines

Another Life

They closed in, spitting rotten, bloody saliva and grasping out with decaying hands.

"You go first and I'll hold them off!"

He picked me up and nearly threw me up the unstable row of shelves, giving me a jump start to safety. I barely grasped it, nails pulling back and scraping the dusty top. My knee knocked off a dented jug of bleach and a huff of breath left me as my ribs slammed against one of the lower shelves. Gritting my teeth, I ignored the throbbing in my ribs and scrambled the rest of the way up. Pushing through starvation and dehydration was an impossible task, but I still flattened my body down to the shelves and flung my arms down to Damien. The dead started to close in on him and then his arms interlocked with mine.

I pulled with every ounce of strength I could muster, shouting out in pain when my shoulders started to pull from their sockets. Damien looked up at me, and a terrifying resolution took over his expression. He let my arms go and dropped back down, throwing one last glance at me...and turned to face the Zs. Horror slammed into my chest and crushed my hammering heart as the realization that he wasn't coming with me dawned.

I barely had time to shriek in agony before they overtook him. They started to tear him apart, his blood spattering my face.

His screams rattled my brain and I jerked awake. I threw a trembling hand over my clammy face. Nearly nine months later, and memories of my boyfriend's death still haunted my nightmares. We had managed to survive three years of the apocalypse before a herd caught us. Since the night I lost Damien, I'd slept on the tops of shelves in the grocery store two towns over. It's the only place I felt safe, and of course I didn't just have to worry about myself anymore. I had another life to worry about.

The one growing inside me. The one Damien helped create.

It was all I had left of him. We were stupid to think that the one time we had been together wouldn't come to this. I was terrified, naturally, especially for the small life I carried. I was only 17, with Damien being 19, and it was too late to take care of it when I found out. And don't even get me started on the thoughts of being torn apart from the inside if the baby turned Z.

The obnoxious creak the front door of the store made echoed throughout the building, ripping me away from my thoughts. I flipped to my stomach as well as I could manage and stilled my body as I watched a small group of people walk through the door. They were lead by two women, one with bright red hair that was holding what appeared to be a modified baseball bat. A tall, lanky boy with a sniper rifle flanked them, sweeping the building with a sharp gaze.

I struggled into a sitting position. "Uh, hey, excuse me! Trying to get some shuteye here? Do you even understand how hard it is to sleep during a zombie apocalypse?"

The redhead smirked. "I think we can sympathize."

The corners of my mouth lifted in response. "I'm Zoe, by the way." She nodded and grinned lightly.

I caught a glance of the boy as he took me in, gaze lingering on my swollen abdomen. He nudged the darker woman who I had decided must be the leader, then jerked his chin toward the bump.

"So you're....-". Her eyes softened considerably, but there was a new, guarded expression on her face.

I nodded, my hand lifting to touch my warm stomach.

"It could happen any day now. I've been keeping track."

The long, lean boy shifted, averting his gaze awkwardly.

"Well, you should probably get going. You were probably looking for supplies, right? I have plenty to share. Here, take some," I gestured out to where I consolidated the food and medicines. These people had more mouths to feed than I did...and that's considering I survived the whole birthing process.