Any chances
Ever since the apocalypse began, it's been nothing but turmoil for me. Constantly on the move my energy was almost always depleted.
I never feel rested constantly on the move.
I knew I needed to find somewhere I could settle down for a bit.
I didn't mind being on the run all the time; as strange as it sounds, I preferred to be alone.
I didn't have to worry about anyone else but myself. After my family had all been bitten, only I remained.
I would survive for them for as long as possible.
My travel seems aimless; there is no reason for the way I travel.
I soon discovered that the zombies couldn't smell you if you had zombie blood on you, as you had the smell of death on you.
I tried to stay out of the city, as hordes were most present in the city.
However, I have seen some groups up on the back roads.
I slowly walk, my gun tucked in my waistband. My knife is in the sheath on my belt.
The gravel crunches lightly below my feet. I heard some groans in the distance, but there were only two—nothing I couldn't handle or should waste the energy killing.
I had to go and explore some of the houses I found down some county roads.
I haven't eaten in two days, and I felt it.
My energy is being depleted slowly, like a leech.
I open the gate and close it behind me as I approach the house.
I knocked, listening closely, to see if I could hear any zombies inside the house lying and waiting for me.
I was thankful the zombies were dumb as rocks.
I put my ear against the door, listening carefully.
"What the hell did you hear that?" I hear a voice say:
My eyes widen, and I scurry from the door quickly.
It was a man's voice, and to be honest, I didn't trust men, especially at the end of the world.
He was clearly talking to someone, and I didn't plan on finding out who that was.
I open the gate quickly, killing the two zombies with a knife as they drop to the ground.
I hear the door opening as I run off into the woods.
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
I say mumbling hoping they didn't see where I went. I don't bother to look behind me as I run off in the woods, the resent rain leaving my feet muddy.
I look behind me after a while of running.
Seeming perfect trail as through Hansel and Gretel, but with my muddy footprints.
I didn't hear them, so hopefully they would leave it alone that I went to their house.
I pulled out my map, trying to gaze at where I was as I tried to make my way back to the road.
Off in the distance away from them.
I study the map, hoping I'm going in the right direction, as I shove it back into my bag. Pulling my water bottle almost empty and sipping a bit to conserve it.
I finally see a road, breathing a breath of relief as the fallen leaves continue to crunch under my weight.
I snuggle in my jacket, the cold air chilling.
I needed to find somewhere to rest tonight; it was practically freezing, and I shouldn't be out in these conditions; it was a surefire way to get ill.
I pull out the map again.
Studying the road and hoping to go in a new direction.
I rubbed my feet on the rocks to get the mud off my boots, as I couldn't be tracked any further by someone. Granted, if they were an actual tracker, they probably could, but for someone like me, no.
I didn't know if those voices I heard would attempt to follow me, but I definitely didn't plan on finding out.
I see a house about 2 miles up the road.
I'd hopefully stay there tonight.
I walk slowly, keeping my eyes and ears glued to any possible threat.
I repeated the same process, opening and closing the gate, waking up the long gravel driveway.
I step up the small steps.
Looking through the window, not seeing anything, I lightly knock and hear a zombie in the house.
I walk slowly to the back, sliding up a window I climb in.
Walking quietly in the house, I kill the one zombie, keeping it propped against the door.
I slide the window back down, locking it.
I walk to each window, locking it, and to each door as well. I couldn't take any chance being a woman in a world like this.
I searched the cabinets; there wasn't any food. I fight back tears of frustration and anguish over my current situation.
I pushed down on the bed.
Sighing while keeping my bag on, I lay down on the pillow.
Closing my eyes, I was shivering as the coldness began to creep in the sun no longer in the sky.
Only the moonlight illuminates the room.
I wake up in the morning, stretching my aching muscles.
I feel slightly better, but my stomach is rumbling.
I feel my feet shuffling on the wooden floor as I unlock the back door. I walk out and close it behind me.
I hear the horrifying noise of a gun hammer singling. I wasn't alone.
I reach for the door handle; my eyes haven't even met who it was.
"Ah, ah, ah, now where do you think you're going?" He asked beside me.
I gulped, retracting my hand.
"I'm going to be taking this." He says he is taking my gun from my waistband. Sliding it on his own.
"I don't have any food or anything else; just take the gun," I say, holding my hands up.
He takes my knife too.
"Can we take any chances now?" He says it with a smirk.
I clench my jaw.
"Fine, you can have the knife too, I guess. Just take the gun off my temple." I say my voice is strong and confident.
Though I was actually terrified.
"Mason!" He yells.
This other man walks into my view.
"Told you, Lincoln, those footprints were too small to be a man's." The man I know as Mason says:.
"Well, aren't you just a detective? Congratulations! I'll be leaving now." I say trying to mask my fear with sarcasm as I attempt to leave.
"Give me your bag." Mason says he wasn't holding a gun to my head, but I see one on him as well. I was outmanned and outgunned.
I toss him my bag, angry.
"I have nothing in there." I am annoyed.
