First Steps | A Zombie Apocalypse Story (Completed)

Day 13.1

Jerry

The road is barren of anything other than the occasional piece of litter. Nothing helpful. It felt bizarre last night, crashing in a random little home right off the country road. No trace of who lived there. They may return, they may not. They could be dead. And the craziest thing about this is that I will never meet them.

The truck only got me but so far. I was forced to go on foot after a while.

It was nice when I passed through the small town of Mineral. Passing by the old antique shop I used to take my kids to when they were little girls. Now, one is in high school, and one in middle. They don't really care for the little things like that anymore. One day I can hope that they will be able to look back on that and think, damn, I'm so glad my daddy brought me there when I was a kid. Maybe they can get married and bring their kids there, just for the cycle to continue.

There I see it. My small little town. Montpelier. I find myself picking up the pace at the site, despite the weight of my bag. Exhausted, dirty, and bloody. I hope I don't get mistaken for a walker when my family sees me. Imagine the luck, I'm almost home, and I make my way onto the property. I see it now. My wife would stick the nose of the rifle outside the window, so subtly that only a keen eye would notice. And in her moment of hesitation, I would scream "wait, it's me!" When she will see that it is me, I'll run to her and we will meet halfway, a large kiss planted on her lips. She'll call the kids and then they will be so happy to see me. We'd all hug.

That is at least how I imagine things going.

Thinking of how things will go sends a wave of energy through me, causing me to pick up my pace. My feet burn against the pavement until I reach the freshly green grass. Before approaching my house, I go to the little creek in the woods to wash up so I wouldn't look and smell dead.

The cold water flowing brings a soothing rhythm to my ears. When the cold water comes in contact with my face, I feel exalted with energy. I scrub my face as well as I am able. I turn around, straining my eyes at the sight of an individual in the distance. I can't tell whether it is a dead person or an alive person. I stand up and raise the AR slowly, which was almost out of bullets. Fortunately, I have more bullets and a couple of extra magazines at my house.

"Stop where you are, or I'll shoot!" I yell, sweat dribbling down my forehead. It feels as if the sun is beating down on me where the light shines through the canopy of trees.

"Jerry?" I hear a man respond faintly. The voice sounds familiar. "Is that you?"

"Your name first," I reply, not wanting to share who I am.

"It's Elijah, Elijah Vargas." I drop the gun.

"Elijah? Eli! It's Jerry!" I shout with joy filling my tone. I swing the gun over my shoulder as we convene. I give him a quick look before joining in for a hug.

"Man, it is so good to see you, brother," I say after we pull away. I rest a sturdy hand on his shoulder. He looks much better than I do. He looks at me with dark, serious eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Let's get you to a shower first. You smell like mierda," he replies, a low chuckle sounding.

"Yeah, wouldn't wanna scare away the kids." We make our way to his mom's country home. We grew up together, but he moved after high school. I inherited my parent's old house after they passed.