Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
FUCK YOU, GEORGE romero. She said it every morning like a prayer, but there was no hope or desperation within those words. It was made of frustration and vexation, a rebuking to the man that birthed the undead genre.
Go to hell, George Romero.
It had been a week since the world had gone silent, but that's all it took. A week for society to crumble.
It was a sick joke to Samantha Walsh, a dark comedy that her life has been made into. It had taken humans - a species that had evolved for thousands of years to build up a society obsessed with law and order - only a few days for humanity to succumb to their end and abandon what they spilled blood for so vainly.
It might as well be as pointless as the Vietnam war was.
But in all honestly, the world had been already ending long before; The society humans created; the wars; global warming.
The virus was just the push that triggered the already ticking bomb.
Samantha stuck her head out of the tent, the Georgia sun baking down on her ebony head and she glared.
"Eat shit, George Romero."
Lori was heading her way with Carl and Sophia on her tail, her eyebrows furrowing at the younger Walsh's attitude. Samantha turned to her, and immediately tensed up.
"The kids want to go play near the quarry, but me and Carol are busy with the laundry."
Samantha rose a brow at her. "At twelve I didn't need a babysitter," She stated, before her eyes fell onto her godson and Sophia. Her soft spot for children basically scolded at her, and she sighed. "Just don't get me wet."
The two preteens rejoiced, and Lori sent Samantha a grateful smile, but the brunette didn't feel any towards the mother. In fact, she felt quite the opposite.
It was a no brainer that there was deep, rocky tension between the two, who would've considered one another best friends once.
"Hey! Wait up!"
When Samantha saw Glenn rushing down the hill she felt a genuine smile reach her lips, happy that he wasn't avoiding her anymore. The two adults sat near the quarry as the children played in the water.
A week Samantha kept repeating, disappointed in the human race. A week.
Glenn looked at her with one eyes closed as the late summer sun glared down at her "I'm sorry about what happened." His voice was shaken with guilt, and Samantha frowned.
Resources had started to run out, and Glenn knowing Atlanta like the back of his hand, he led supply groups in and out of the city. It was a dangerous trek, a suicide mission for all those who volunteered, yet Samantha had been the first to do so.
