Don't Talk To Strangers | BOOK 1

fourty five

Elle McBriar
August 5th, 5 months and 25 days after the first zombie report

The sun was setting as I rushed around Los Angeles.

Gage had stopped his seizure after 10 minutes of none stop shaking. Alex was breathing and alive but Paxton showed no sign of communication other than the quick short breaths coming from his mouth.

I had pulled out the single mattress Paxton and I slept on and put Gage on that. In case he had another seizure he didn't hurt himself.

I cleared out the van. I literally threw everything out and placed pieces of cloth down. Alex lay down on the van, a small pillow supporting his head.

Paxton was next to Alex. Thankfully the van was big enough for both of them.

I checked their pulses every few minutes to see if anything changed. I timed it, counted and relaxed.

Every now and then, one of them would stir in their sleep and I'd get scared. But it's okay.

I made Riley up a bottle of formula from day old milk. Hopefully he doesn't get sick. It's all I can do at the moment until we find somewhere cold to store it.

He's down for his nap so hopefully I can get through the night without him waking
up. Although, I don't want to get through the night without the boys by my side.

I'm tending to their wounds. Starting with Paxton. He has a giant gash on his arm that I stitched. Pulling the needle and thread through with shaky hands, finishing it off with tape.

Then the bruises on his back and legs. The scratches on his neck and chest. I had to cut his shirt off. I don't mind but I also don't want him to get cold.

Once Paxton looked like a mummy, I went to the other boys.

Gage had a fractured wrist and many, many cuts and bruises. They were easy to tend too, just tile consuming.

I know I should be thinking about myself as well but the truth is I don't care. I'm so done worrying about me and my health when I get myself into situations like this where I face life or death. Again.

There is no point.

I'm so sick of surviving. I feel like it's draining all of me. I'm completely done.

After Alex and I fell 50 feet in that elevator shaft, we didn't talk about it. We were both in major shock, and pain. He said he was fine but I saw him limping.

I placed a cold cloth around his ankles, looking at his chest and back for anything I may have missed. I feel terrible that these boys got injured.

It was my fault to come to Los Angeles. If I had kept my goddamn mouth shut, we wouldn't be here right now.

I wouldn't be alone, in this battle. I wouldn't be tending to the boys who saved my life, again. I wouldn't be feeling sorry for myself or wished that I had just died in that fucking fire!

All the pent up rage and anxiety finally burst and I cried. I sat on the drivers side with the door open and cried. Ahead between my knees, messy hair cried.

It felt so good but so bad. You almost killed them, Elle.

It's probably better if I just disappear.

* * *

Hours passed and still no sign of life from the boys. The sun had gone down and I was using the headlights and torches as my form of light.

I locked the car where Riley was sleeping just in case. I don't actually know if we completed the task at hand - eliminating all zombies before the fire.

I put a thin sheet over Paxton and Alex, making sure it wasn't too hot or cold. I sat on the edge of the mattress where Gage lay and put a blanket over him.

What am I supposed to do?

I feel my eyelids closing every second and they feel even heavier. But I have to stay awake. For their sake. And the fact that there could still be zombies.

Pulling out my journal, I decided it's time for an entry.

So, I'm the worst person ever.

I told the boys that we should go to Los Angeles to see if we can stop the whole 'zombie attacks'.

Well, the University of California caught on fire. Alex and I fell 50 feet down an elevator shaft and survived. And now Alex, Gage and Paxton aren't waking up.

I literally led them into a death trap. I don't know how the fire started, what caused it or anything. All I know is that we barely made it out alive.

I don't know how I survived. I really wished I had just died in that fire. Then I wouldn't be carrying bad luck around with the boys for the rest of my life...

Everything hurts. My body, my head, my heart. I feel like this is all my fault.

The pages of my journal were growing closer and closer to the end as I flipped the flimsy paperback shut, sliding it onto the passenger seat of the car.

Checking their pulses again, it was steady.

Maybe I should become a doctor. In another life maybe. A life with no zombies, fires, disease or anything bad. So basically an alternate universe.

I closed my eyes for a second, breathing in the air as the tiniest, faint smell of burning wood entered my nose.

Normally, I would think it's a nice smell. But now it takes me back and gives me PTSD.

Sighing, I get up. Closing the sliding door of the van shut. Maybe I should slide Gage in with the boys? There's enough room, and then he wouldn't be by himself.

How did I end up looking after 3 giant men? Oh yeah, you almost killed them, Elle. Dumbass.

I frowned at my own inner thoughts calling me a dumbass as I slipped into the drivers seat. It felt so good to sit and let my legs relax for a second.

The breeze was slightly cold as I shivered a little bit, dragging my hands up and down my bare arms.

There's a little voice in the back of my head, the one I'm trying to ignore.

You can't do this.

Not on my own.

* * *

hii
i know there's not a lot of dialogue, but there will be soon :)