A Diffrent Kind of Dead

Chapter 2

2 years later

I Woke up out of breath.

"Bad dream." I whispered to my self. I'm so tired of being alone. It's my birthday and no one to celebrate with. I'm 16 now and I only really been in one group. I was afraid of them finding out my secret. I made it out right before the dead found a way in. I don't trust anyone after the one group. They tried to kill me because they thought I was Satan or something like that. Even my best friend Ashley, went along with it.

I just want someone to talk to, I'm so desperate, I'm starting to talk to my guns. I was hiding out in a studio apartment somewhere in Washington. I got up and looked out the window and saw a guy.

An actual person.

I got my sun glasses on, I took my hand gun out and pointed it at the door. You never know who's going to walk in. He could be a psychopath, I don't need a Michael Myers in the zombie Apocalypse.

I heard footsteps, I hope its him, I hope hes nice, I don't want to kill living people anymore.

The door slowly opened. I got ready to pull the trigger.

"Whoa!" He said, "I'm not here for trouble."

"Then what are you up to then?" I asked.

"I'm just looking for food for my group I didn't know you were here."

"Oh, a group." ugh, he just ruined it, "Theirs nothing left in this building I picked it clean."

"Oh okay, I'll guess i'll leave."

I put my gun down as he closed the door. He stopped.

"I actually don't have a group, I say that to scare people so the don't fuck with me."

"Are you going anywhere in particular?" I asked.

"No."

"You can stay. If you want."

He walked in and closed the door quietly.

"Your not gonna kill me, are you?" he asked.

"No, are you?"

"No."

I smiled and sat in a chair next to the window.

"You can sit. If you want." I said.

He smiled and sat on the couch that I was sleeping on before he came in.

"It's my birthday." I looked over at him.

"How old are you?" He asked.

"16. How old are you?"

"I dunno around 17 or 18. I lost count."

"That sucks, forgetting how old you are, not knowing what day it is."

"It's the worst."

"It's Tuesday, November 1st, 2016."

"How do you keep track?"

"I keep a journal."

His eyes are greenish blue. His hair was dark all over the place in a sexy kind of way. He had a scar in his eyebrow where no hair grew.

"I never got your name." He said.

"You can call me... Red." I faced the window.

He probably knew the woman's name the that started this hell.

"I'm Nat." He smiled.

"It's nice to meet you Nat."

"Same to you."