When August Ends

Running With Andrew

Five days later

     I slip out of the kitchen quietly, I'm not in a cooking mood. Things have been smoother, granted, since everything has started. But all we've done is stay inside. We cleaned out the YC entirely, rid it of the foul corpses that littered the place, cleaned the blood and gore. We boarded everything up, and blocked the doors. Ony the back kitchen door hasn't been blocked. It's fortified but our one entrnce and exit. I walk through the thick wood kitchen doors silently and sigh. Everything that has happened has been very hard to adjust too. I'm still so worried about my family and the others who could still be uninfected on campus, but i'm so glad to have my friends to help me through this. I wouldn't wish any others beside me to face an apocalypse. But I miss the sky. I miss fresh air. Troy and Adam are co-leading us and insist we stay indoors but I'm getting restless. After the nn-stop action I went through the first few days i should be glad for the rest but I'm not. I want out. I walk up to the tables in the dining hall where we keep all our things. Troy, Mace, and Stevo made runs three days ago to get all our things. Along the way they found Morgan Glosson. A tall, strong boy with an extreme sense of sarcasm and a really kind heart. He holds very strong conflicting emotions but that's what makes him fun to be around. But I don't like seeing him now. I'm glad he's alive but I see him and feel guilty. His best friend was Andrew, who I basically killed. Grace told him that Andrew was gone, but left put that I crushed him with my own body. Troy took the blame, claiming he shot him, and Morgan took it stonefacedly. He is very grave from time to time and I know that's when he is thinking about Andrew. He doesn't know my part in it all but I don't have the heart to tell him. He handles the news though as if he knows it was necessary for Andrew to die. I suppose it was but I can't make myself see it that way. I see people I truly care about who are infected but could hopefully be cured. I'm foolish but it's what I believe. I'm certain there is some form of cure.

        When I reach the table with my things I unzip the black duffel bag that contains my clothes. I slide my black t-shirt off and quickly put a black tank top in it's place. Then I slide the white, black, and light blue plaid shirt dear Grace gave me on. It is a soft material that brings me comfort, and I don't know why. Next I roll up my jean shorts, and then slip my darling black boots on. I put a small knife in one of the boots, and a pistol in my black belt. I need to get out of here for a while. Take a break from this building. I check back in the kitchen to be sure everyone's occupied, and then I run back out to the dining hall. I go to the side door and force it open. I slide out the doors but put it back in place so nothing can get in unless it's me. I turn around to survey the destruction. The vivid green grass glistening red with blood in certain patches, the sun dimly shining through the light grey clouds. The rock wall still stands tall and untouched, and everything is still aside from the rustling leaves that dance in the chilly wind. The empty scene is so forlorn and... beautiful. I don't understand my appreciation of the solitary and unhappy scene but it makes me feel alive. The wind invigorates me. The trees make my heart skip. The blood gets my heart racing. I feel like running for miles and miles. Moving with the wind. I walk to the lonely street and step on it heavily. Something drops at my feet, having been carried from the wind. It's a bloody piece of fabric that I recognize. It's black, white, and red plaid. A piece of Andrews favorite shirt. I smile as tears swim across my cheeks, and then I run.

     The wind whips my face as I run. I don't know where I'm running to, I have no place in mind, but I keep going. Every breath I take is a struggle, because it hurts to breathe as I run and cry simultaneously. My heart is pounding in my chest. Bang. Bang. Bang. I run until I reach the security shack at the mouth of the campus. I stop and look around. The CC to my left looks condemned. The land ahead however, looks untouched by the brutality taking place in my world. I look at the ground, breathing hard and notice I am still clutching the fabric from Andrews shirt. I smile, but an agonized smile. I remember one time when some friends and I were picking him up earlier in the summer to go to Dunkin and he was taking too long so he ran. I video taped him running and for some reason it never ceased to make me laugh. He was a lively guy. A good friend. What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to live in this apocalypse? I don't adapt well. At least not environmentally, not in the ways of a violent life. It's too much to settle into. I look at the CC. I wonder if there's anyone in there. The place is probably just full of infecteds. But there may be some useful supplies I can bring back for the others.  I decide to go in. I walk through the doors boldly. I honestly have no fear when I am by myself. I don't have anyone else to worry about. Thta's the thing about outbreaks like this. If you're like me, it's not your head you worry about. It's those closest to you. So in a way, a lone fight is easiest because you don't have anything holding you back. It could be more of a lack of self appreciation thing, or not really being happy. But I know enough to know that wether it's I just don't appreciate the life I posess or not,  I value my friends lives enough to lay my own down for them. Call it bravery or foolishness, take your pick. I think it's madly ridiculous love. With a hint of idiocy, but hey, life would be so dull withut idiocy. It's those who act idiotically who have motives and what is idiocy to one is the utmost wisdom to another.

     I walk through the lobby and find the furniture upturned and blood smeared walls. There is a rotting limb by the sideways couch in a dried pool of brown blood. The smell in here is sickening. I hop behind the service counter and rummage through lost and found. I find a rather lage pocket knife with a curiously thick blade that I pocket quickly along with a crystal bracelet. I've still got an eye for shiney things. Nothing else is worth taking so I instead look through the supply closet. In here I find some back packs and bags along with towels and soaps and such for hotel guests. I fill a back pack with them because let's be real. None of us have really showered since this apocalypse and someone needs to say it so I will: We smell awful. There are also some packaged snacks that I toss in the bag. Lastly I stuff several towels in. There is still plenty of room in my bag so I decide to see what's in the kitchen. I cautiously enter the SDR to see a surprising sight. Troy prying open the side door of the room and bursting inside. He is standing infront of the swinging wood kitchen doors. We make eye contact and his gaze hardens. "I'm getting really tired of you slipping off like no one else will notice." he snaps. I roll my eyes. "Newsflash Maya. Ready for this? WE NOTICED." he snaps.

"I just needed-" I begin but before I can finish my retort the wood doors burst open and an infected comes crashin out at Troy. But not just any infected, it's Jon. And he's sinking his teeth into Troys hand.