Not Dead Yet (Sample Only, Now on KU)

Florida

Dear Jon,

How long has it been? Far too long now. So much has happened, I don't even know where to begin. There's so much I want to ask you too, like where were you when all of this happened? What did you think? Did you instantly think of me, the way I did you...or was your head somewhere else entirely?

Why did I have to be on holiday when this happened? Why couldn't I have been in Michigan with you, then I'd know exactly what happened, and I wouldn't have to write this stupid letter? And in Florida too, of all places. A seven-hour flight away, probably a day or more by car. I'm stuck here and all I want to do is get back to you. You and the rest of my family.

I tried you know, I really did. As soon as the Lockdown was announced, as soon as the quarantine was set up, I headed to the airport and tried my best to get back. The only problem was everyone else was doing exactly the same thing, it was like a freaking nightmare. Maybe it would've been funny, had it not been so tragic. Millions of people, cramped into one place, yelling, screaming, panicking. I couldn't stand it, you know how I hate big crowds as it is, but I stuck it out, I stayed with it because I wanted to get home, I wanted to be with you all again.

But then the virus hit there too, really bad and fast. Luckily I escaped, but only just, and I raced back to the hotel while I waited to find out what would happen next. I was alone by then, I'd lost all my friends. I assumed they wouldn't be far behind me, that soon enough we'd all be back together, but I was wrong. No one came, nothing good happened, things just spiraled further down and down into the state I'm in right now.

The dead are wandering the streets, killing anyone that crosses their path, there is no other solution, everything seems to have collapsed, and I'm stuck here thousands of miles away from everyone I love all by myself.

What's the point?

I want to survive, I really want to be a survivor, but what's the point if this is all there is? Do you think it'll ever get better? I'm not so sure. How can we ever come back from this? How can we kill off all the monsters roaming the streets when there are more of them than us? Their numbers grow every single day, whereas ours diminish. This actually could be the end for humans forever...

Sorry, I sound really morbid, don't I? I'm going on like I'm about to die myself. I do want to remain positive, I do want to think that I'll see everyone again, it's just hard. I even miss my job at the office, how mad is that? All I ever did was make snarky remarks about sign making, now I'd give literally anything to see that stupid printing machine that jammed every single day. The thing that used to give me nightmares now features in my dreams.

I don't know why I'm writing to you really, I can't imagine that the postal service is up and running in among this insanity, but I guess I need a way to get some of this madness out, I need to feel close to you somehow. I just...I miss you so much.

Damn it, I'm sorry. Let me just sort myself out...

Love you,

Jen.

Hey again, Jon,

There, much better. Sorry about that, I don't know what came over me. Although that silly mini breakdown—where only a few things got broken, honest—did make me realize that it's time for a change. I've been sitting up here on the fifth floor of this hotel for weeks, surveying the nightmare unravelling below. Sure, I've left this room to search for other people, and to steal food and drinks, but that can't last much longer.

If I remain here, nothing will ever change, except maybe for the worst. If I go 'out there', yes I might die (I write bravely, whilst screaming inside) but at least things could be okay. If I focus on the 'could' part, on the tiny, minuscule chance that I'll see your face again, then I might just about be able to work up the bravery to actually do it.