Surviving for each other

Chapter 2: A heavy burden to bear

That night lives on in your mind, in your dreams. You wake up in a cold sweat like everyday. It has been an entire year since that night and you nor the world has recovered. You recently celebrated your 21st birthday. And a year since the T-virus was accidentally released by the former pharmaceutical giant. Over the years everyone in your subdivision has fallen under the T-virus except you. You have been alone for 6 months. After the first few months you started to get your bearings in this new world. You started to build a fence around the border of your property. being quite large you salvaged stakes and old chicken wire to make a stable fence. The grass grew out of control as you built in the smoldering heat. It took 4 weeks to build up a fence to keep the strays out, but it's worth it to feel that much more secure. The first 3 months you went door to door taking out any infected that may have made residents in your neighbors homes. Picking an empty lot at the end of the sub you buried the old residents and the members you used to call loved ones. Makeshift crosses littler the field with planted flowers by each grave. Some smaller than others made the pain of the funeral even worse. You yearned for someone to help you carry this heavy burden. Your house was a practical bunker of safety. A sturdy fence hugged the property, windows were securely boarded up, and doors were fortified. While gathering up neighbors and such you also gathered the food that was left behind. You thought since you had to ration food you would finally lose that weight. To your dismay you kept your plush physique. Although the disheartening news of you continued looks you where very well off if you did say so yourself. You made a safe room in the basement full of nonperishables and other supplies gathered. Since the apocalypse fresh food was rare. You were smart and composted the fruit and vegetables making a small garden for fresh foods. Your neighbors had chickens so you moved their coops to your backyard. Chicken poop makes excellent fertilizer and not to mention fresh eggs. Each room was left as it was except for the candle stands newly installed in each room. In the storage section of your basement you found plenty of old pieces that don't require energy. One of your favorites is an old wind up record player. Your grandma kept one of the biggest record collections you had ever seen. With your new found enjoyment of music you took it upstairs and set it in the living room. You cleaned out the house of electronics since they were virtually useless. Relying on batteries and candles your house was sufficient. You decided to take the player outside to listen as you worked. You cranked and cranked till the crank tightened letting you know it's ready to play. Putting a record on you enjoyed the soothing music turning it up louder. "Everybody Loves Somebody" by Dean Martin played loud and clear even with the age of both the record and player. Laying in your hammock in the front yard you sang along to the tune you learned to love. "Everybody loves somebody sometime" you sang beautifully and loud, not worried about anything but the shoes tapping down the road. "Shoes tapping, that's never good" you thought to yourself. You reached behind the tree where the hammock was situated and pulled out a 9mm handgun. You slowly made your way to the tall figure making its way down the road. The silhouette was broad wearing a large backpack. "What was a wanderer doing all the way out here" you said as you neared the person. Music still playing in the background pulled the attention of the figure. You pulled your gun and approached carefully. You made out a man with dirty blond hair and a police uniform on wandering in the street. You noticed the bullet hole in his right shoulder as you carefully approached. He was in a daze but what you could see he was not infected. The wound started bleeding more profusely.  Lowering your gun you spoke "hey hey can you hear me. You look hurt, don't shoot. I want to help." He looks at you, his eyes blue and beautiful yet tired and hurt. About to speak he collapses on the hard hot cement. You lift his head onto your lap as you brush the hair from his face. You tried to wake him but to no avail. You had to act fast; this might be his only chance.