It's been a while since the zombie apocalypse started. I lost track of how long it had actually been, but once you start losing people the number of days isn't what consumes your mind; it's the number of people you've lost. The number I've lost has been burned into my brain since the day I lost my sister; she was number six. We were traveling with a small group since the beginning, and it ended up being just my sister, my two year old son named Cooper, and me. Having a toddler with you while trying to fight off the dead was not an easy task. One day when I was walking the road with my son, looking for shelter, we came across a heard that was just too big for one person to fight. I tried running to get Cooper to safety, but it was no use. Saying my last I love you to him and holding him tightly I excepted the inevitable. When I realized our time on earth was coming to an end that was when the man with the crossbow saved our lives, changing them forever.