Being a Part of the Few

Running

Run. That's what they told me. To run and don't look back. Where to? I ask myself the same thing.

•Joey's Perspective•

My name is Joey, it's been 2 years since the apocalypse started. I try not to make human interaction because of what-happened-when it first started. Come to think of it, I haven't had human interaction in 4 months, 13 days, and 48 minutes.

I have no where else to run, no where else to hide, no one else to go to.

I hear a twig snap from behind me. I grad my katana from its sheath. I then hear it's groaning and growls. They're close. I finally see it, it sees me, only one lives. And that one, must be me, and I will. It starts walking-limping-towards me. I get in my stance, ready. It gets closer, closer, almost-I swing my katana in one swift move. The head of the zombie falls with a thud. The body soon falls with it.

I take the handkerchief out of my pocket to wipe the blood of my face and katana. The blood reeks. Who knows how long this guy has been dead. Few months at least. I put the katana back in its sheath. The sheath is engraved with my husband's name. He made it for me on our anniversary... I fall to the ground, sobbing, I clutch the sheath tightly, afraid it'll grow wings and leave.

Forget it, forget them. They're dead. They're not here. Just. Keep. Running.

I get up fast, dry my tears, and start to find a place to sleep. I walk quietly, so they don't hear me, I forgot to cover myself in the zombies blood earlier, so they'll probably smell me.

I see a house, no boards, and no lights. I get close enough to the door, and listen. No groaning. No other signs of life. I pick the lock and walk inside. I grab the flashlight from my bag and turn it on.

I see a couch and crash on it. I look around and see a family, a happy and alive husband, two happy and alive children, and finally a happy, alive wife. Probably all dead by now. I close my eyes, clear my thoughts, and try to find peace.
~~~~
I wake up, the sun shining through the window, and a gun pointed to my face. Shit.

"Who the hell are you?" His voice was stern, no hint of fear.

"My name is Joey. I thought this house was abandoned but, clearly I see it's not." He looks at me, then behind me. "It's my bag with a few supplies and my katana."

He points the gun down, "My name is Howard," he reaches for a handshake. You can't do it again. You've lost too much. I shake it. "Where you bit, or any way you could get infected by them?" I shake my head. "Good. Would you like to stay for breakfast?"