Shades Of Styles

Apocalypse

I wake up, the bright sun shining through the cracks of the small fort I've built for shelter.
It must be sunrise now, I have to get moving before they come.
2 years ago, something happened, no one knows what but it started the zombie apocalypse. A crazy thing, yet but it happened. Since then, nearly had the population of earth has been knocked out. Since then, I've been trying to find my way to the only family member I have left, my aunt Yasmine. She lives in South Asia. She built a bomb shelter a year before it all went down. She invited me to come live with her there. But in the last 2 years I've seen a lot and done a lot. I killed my own boyfriend, brother and parents. It was hard but I did it.
My boyfriend was the last to go, just 11 months ago. He stupidly tried to fight off a corpse when his gun jammed and they bit him. I shot him instantly. It was tough to do but we promised each other, if either one of us got infected, we would just do it.
We were together for a year before the apocalypse happened. Now it's just me. I pretty much refuse to get attached to anyone. Everyone I know dies. I've made friends of course but they either, betrayed me or died. So I decided to move forward. It hasn't been easy, traveling through countries hasn't either.
So far, I've made it to England. Not the most well preserved country in the world but I can't blame them.

I stand up and dismantle my wood shelter, destroying any evidence that I've been here. They've gotten smarter, tracking the habits of the living. Figuring out how to find a human by places that look freshly put together. I learned that the hard way. That's how I lost my companion, Charles. My last companion. He defended me and lost the fight.

I pack my things, check my gun and begin on my way.  It's hard to get from Northern California to South Asia on foot. I've tried cars but they were more trouble then they're worth. I'll get there when I can, is all I can tell myself. It gets lonely on the road. I have 18 hours a day with my thoughts and 6 hours to dream of those thoughts.
I eventually stop at a stream and wash my face. I haven't seen water in a day or so, so this is refreshing. I take a few sips and fill my canister. It's not so bad but I rather be drinking stream water then a corpse. I continue to wash the corpse blood off of my body and clothes and wash the mud from my hair before deciding to be on my way.

I come to a bridge and begin to walk towards it when I see a group of corpses, 3 or 4. This should be easy, target practice mostly. I put my gun up and aim at one of their heads but the corpse gets taken down before I pull the trigger and then soon enough the other 3 are down. Where did that come from? I look around and my eyes fall on a man with brown curls, in a torn, black t-shirt, boots and ripped jeans, a backpack similar to mine and two guns across his back, one in his hands.

"You shouldn't be out here alone." He states, his British accent is deep and soothing almost.

"I've been doing that 6 months now, I should be fine." I explain to him.

"6 months." He shorts as he gets close to me, putting his gun on his shoulder. "Try 4 years mate."

"The apocalypse has only been around for 2." I point out.

"That doesn't mean I haven't been alone." He shrugs. "Harry." He puts his hand out for me to shake. I shake it.

"(Y/N)." I tell him.

"Well, (Y/N). What's an American doing out in here in the middle of England?" He asks.

"Trying to get to South Asia." I tell him. This is dumb. He killed the corpses, great. I saved 4 bullets. He can go back where he was now.

"Seems a bit far." He looks around, checking for more corpses.

"Listen, I don't have time. I've been going for 2 years now. I don't need the status update alright. Thanks." I snap and begin to walk away.