'Till the End

Chapter Three: My First Kill

[Chapter Three: My First Kill]

"But you don't have any weapons!" Duane cried, throwing his arms up at me. "You'll die..." His voice got quiet, and my epression soffented. I crowched down in front of him and hugged him.

"I'll be okay, I promise." I whispered, trying to ease his worrying. His warm, salty tears fell onto my neck, and tears started to well in te bak of my eyes. "I know where I can get some guns, but I want you ad your father to come with me." We had boned quickly, seeing as how he is just like me when I was his age. He nodded, not speaking, and I Iet go of him. The sunrise was warm, and a lot o the snow had melted durring the two days of my conciousness.

"Where are you going to get guns?" Morgan sked, looking away from his son and I. He close his eyes, taking a deep breath in.

"My father was - is, a police officer. You said the apocalypse started not too long ago, right? People would have been in such a panic, that they would never think to look at the police station." I explained and tucked a piece of stray hair behind my ear.

"And how old are you?" Morgan asked me, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. I laughed sheepishly, and scratched the nape of my neck.

"15," I muttered. "But age doesn't matter now!"

"I seriously thought you were older than that. Now I will be responsible if you die! I will be blamed, because I am letting you leave." Morgan grumbled, turning on his heels. Gee, thanks. I thought, giving him a did-you-really-just-say-that-outloud face. Duane followed his father ouside, pulling my along by my wrist. Morgan shoved a baseball bat in my hands, and I clenched it tightly, almost dropping it. He walked back outside, and Duane followed him like a little puppy waiting for a treat. I hesitantly walked outside and groaned, sheilding the sun out of my eyes with my hand. 'You need to learn how to protect yourself." He stared at a man who was slouching against a planter box. His skin was dirty; almost grey, and his clothes were ripped and stained red.

"'Are you sure he is dead?" I asked with a hiss. I felt my stomach start to get all tight from the thoughts of killing a man.

"Yes, I am sure. You know, he isnt like we are anymore. He is a walker. There may be a part of the brain that is still alive, but its so fried it doesnt even matter." As Morgan spoke, we inched a little closer to the 'man'. His head twitched, and he craned his stiff neck. I almost puked from the sight. His throat was torn out, and his jaw was only hanging from his head by some skin. I looked away with a gulp, but he climed to his feet. He reached out for us, moaning and grumbling. I brought my arms up over my head and snapped my eyes shut. Once the walker was close enough, I swung my arms down, the hard baseball bat crushing it's soft skull. I wacked him repeteadly, and he fell to the ground. My heart was still racing, but I knew that this was something I had to do.

They are no longer who they use to be. They died. They're gone...