Hopping Down the Bunny Trail

The Group - Chapter 1

Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans.

Or at least...that's what John Lennon said.

Honestly, I wouldn't care whether or not plans had taken up my daily routine and life. Plans are the safety instructions of keeping us alive. A way of living, perhaps.
It was a sort of closure and control I had during these trying times. The walkers never seem to stop roaming nor leave. They either stood like statues and slept, or they'd run after the nearest living thing to quench their hunger.

Me, on the other hand, hid inside the walls of my own home like a prisoner. Though it sometimes never felt like prison. Sometimes when the walkers found new prey, they'd all scurry to whatever they could get their cold hands on.
It would give me a small window of time to scavenge for small herbs or plants. Sometimes just to sit so I can breathe in the fresh air. It was risky, but at this point, anything you do is a risk given, whether you take it or not.

It's been months since the outbreak; it happened almost immediately overnight. It reminded me of the last virus we had two years ago and I honestly thought we were cursed again by some dimwits who wanted to open up another sacred relic.
It can't be helped. We were doomed from the start of this very decade. It came crashing down, like a series of unfortunate events. Except you don't have Count Olaf and The Baudelaire's wacky, close call mystery adventures.
Instead, you have life, death, and ruin. Chaos and despair. That's all it was.

Today wasn't the same as always, however. Despite living inside the confines of my safe home, I knew I couldn't live here forever. The last time I ever saw mom was two weeks ago. My grandparents disappeared not long after to find her. By then, I wanted to accept that they were dead or turned, but deep down...I just couldn't.

There was a car right outside the house, parked just a lil near the porch steps. Supplies were added beforehand, in case we needed to leave to another location. In case we got overrun by walkers.
Of course, it'll be taken for another reason.

The house was still and silent, with only the sounds of birds twittering, a river near by rushing and the runner hoard groaning and moaning just outside.
I grabbed the essentials and stuffed them into my hiking bag. I had few extra clothes, water bottles, and supplies here 'n there.

Last but not least, I took my white katana from the corner and placed it on the side of the bag. The sleeping bag was strapped on top and I tied the strings from my sword to one of the straps.
I'd practiced a bit with my sword more than my mom's gun. It was smart to use something quieter to avoid walkers coming your way.

'Wished I learned more before she left...," I thought.

The room blurred and I stared into my backpack intently. Memories flooded of mom and I practicing on walkers, the smell, the blood....the guts.
It was the most disgusting and revolting experience I've been in ever and I definitely know it won't be the last.

I snapped out of it when I heard Kitkat meow. Looking over, I smiled, scratching behind her ear. "Alright, alright. I'll get a move on, hun."

My outfit was somewhat simple, nothing like what'd you see in movies or comic books. A simple light orange-yellow tee, tucked into a pair of very high-waisted mom jeans and a pair of hiking boots. I wore a copper baseball cap and nothing else. It was comfy, but of course, not safe. I placed a mental note to add duct tape onto my arms, legs and shoulders later on.

The backpack was heavy, but it didn't matter. Seeing as I'll be driving, I don't have to carry this for the long run....hopefully.