Hope II

Hush

The pounding got louder and the shouts more abrupt and violent. Brad hurried to the open window, ready to move as I kept my hand grasped on his shoulder as he asked me the one favour. 

'The Ripper' he muttered in his dying breaths 'Kill that son of a bitch' 

The pounding against the door got louder and deeper and Kyle pushed me away to leave him, the grenade in his right hand. We all moved to the window. 

Before I left I looked back to see Kyle nodding in my direction, and with it he pulled the pin of the grenade, hitting the ground like a raindrop so silent and barren, echoing out all other sounds in the room. 

But suddenly the door burst open and the guards flooded in, guns raised and instantly without hesitation they shot Kyle clean in the head with a single bullet. 

'NO!' I shouted, a gun then aimed towards me and then a bang. 

'KYLE!' I shouted, shooting my entire body up into the darkness, rustling the old and torn sleeping bag under which I was resting, my breaths heavy and my face dripping with intense sweat, wiped clean by the fabric of the bag. 

It must be the middle of the night. The place is dark, the only light coming into the tent was from what I presumed to be the moon shining in, but then the opening of the tent was pulled apart and Aaron perked his head inside, shedding morning light onto my face, blinding my eyes momentarily. 

'You alright?' he asked. 

I could barely see him, the sudden contrast to the bright light had me slightly blinded, so I nodded slowly as my eyes adjusted to the bright morning light 'Yeah' I replied 'Bad dream is all' 

Aaron nodded and stepped away from the tent, closing it again to leave me in the silence aside from the chatter I heard from outside the tent. 

We've been on the road for about a week now, putting us somewhere in the month of November. I like to keep track of the months, just so we can still celebrate when the new year comes, and pray it will be better than the one gone by. I consider ourselves extremely lucky to have found the campsite a few days back. We scavenged food, matches, and two tents we folded up and fitted into a large backpack alongside the campsite. 

We must be nearing the southern side of Georgia at this stage, the border can't be too far away. We left Atlanta city a good four, maybe five weeks back. Been walking on foot for the better part of three to four weeks... it seems like we could hit Orlando at this stage, there's no sure indication to tell us we are still even in the state, we could have walked right past Vertuga and not even known it. South is our only indication, and the vague directions that the group can remember from the radio broadcast they heard before we even met them back in the town.

I pulled the sheets off of my cold capsule and got to my feet, unable to stand up straight without my head hitting off the roof of the age old two man tent. 

Upon stepping outside I was met with a breeze of bitter morning air sweeping past my beard. The air penetrated by the blazing campfire set up in the centre of the secure area surrounded with a perimeter of rope with empty cans and tins attached, any activity will have them rustle and alert us immediately. 

There's light snow on the ground. Such a thing would be common to the eye in north Georgia, but down south it was always much less common. The climate has changed drastically since this whole thing started. Even in 2019 there was freezing temperatures and snowfall down in Miami. Twenty years later it's getting worse, no matter where you are in the world, it always seems to be cold come winter... climates just as fucked as the world it lives in. 

The majority of the group were crowded around the fire, protection against the harsh winter coming cold that threatened us just as greatly as the infection.