Amelia

I stand in an empty field. The only sounds to be heard are my heavy breathing and the quiet, raspy moans of the decapitated zombie at my feet. I slide my bloody machete back into its sheath. Staring out at this blank abyss of a field, my mind goes to the only place it goes nowadays: Amelia. Her long, dark hair and her shimmering, hazel eyes; the way she walked with a skip in her step and the way she talked about her prized comic book collection. Her annoying habit of singing in the shower and her love of Jesse McCartney all seem like a dream now. I shake myself back to reality and start walking.

The sun is setting out in the field, creating a picturesque view of the purple, hazy sky. I walk to the treeline and set up camp: an old, tattered tarp swung across a few, low-hanging branches and a small blanket I used for my bed. I fell asleep quickly.

It has been three months since the first zombie outbreak. It was quick and sudden, but not painless. The outbreaks started in the cities and spread all across the country, the world. Everyone panicked, and I lost contact with everyone I once knew: high school friends, college buddies, coworkers, even my own family. I have no idea where they are, all I know is that I am alone.

For all I know, I could be the last human on Earth.

~

Rated: PG-13 for language and violence