Ripples

Present company excluded, this moment might actually be nice. Long blades of grass dance in the evening breeze, silhouetted by the last of the day’s light as it fades behind a distant hill. Taking a rest from my journey is rare, but sitting here, overlooking a vast filed of grass, I take pride in knowing I’ve reached what is known as the first hill. Well, it’s actually more like a long mound, but it stretches far. Looking from above, this mound would form a perfect ring, the first of twelve concentric circles. At its centre, an impact site that has become myth.

People from my hometown would tell ghost stories of a large stone that came from the heavens and struck the planet. Everyone would gather by the fires to hear Pa tell the tale, captivating his audience with how silently it approached, how bright it was to witness, and how all who heard its roar perished. Now, however, the stone lies dormant, only killing those who dare enter its domain within the centre of the twelve circles. It’s unclear who will continue these stories now. Pa was found dead, covered in bites with flesh torn out. The town blamed me, or more precisely, the creature who stalks me like a shadowy companion.

I tried everything I could to rid myself of his presence, but nothing worked. With no other options, the people felt exile was the only safe solution. Our population was low enough without a murderer.

Four days of walking, jogging and running to try and lose him. Yet somehow, he continues to find me. I can hear him now, lumbering up behind me as I close my eyes and focus on the calming breeze that continues to wash over me. As he grows closer, I pull my hood up with one hand to avoid making any form contact. With my other, I grip my gun.

Even before my exile, I was the only one with a working handgun. Rummaging through my new dwellings at the edge of town, I found it hidden in a dusty box. No one knew what it was when I first discovered it, but when it fired, I knew I had found something special.

Since then, I feel like I’ve become somewhat of an expert with my weapon. But with limited ammunition, I’ve had to save my shots.

To compensate this shortage, the town people gifted me a sword. With the freshly sharpened relic from the town’s founding, as well as a cloak made from scraps of cloth, I was sent on my way.

Despite pulling my hood far over my eyes, I still see his patchy pants and skin as he plonks down next to me. His stench catches on the breeze and all of my calming thoughts fade as the last of the light descends completely. I close my eyes trying not to acknowledge him, but still, I can smell him and now I can hear his pathetic attempts at what sounds like breathing. My hand firmly clasped on my gun, I begin to shake in frustration.

Oh how I hate you. With all of my being, I hate you. You have been a plague on my life for as long as I can remember. Always holding me back, always making me second guess myself. Never a moment’s rest from your curse, and now I am alone, because of you.

Even with my eyes closed I can feel his dead eyes staring at me. I force myself to meet his gaze. With his jaw slack, I see him attempt to say something, but with lightning speed I whip out my gun and plant it hard under his chin. A look of apathy passes between us before the ear-splitting sound of a gunshot echoes across the open field. Seconds later, blood rains from above as large chunks of flesh and bone bounce off my hood. Eyes still locked, he blinks before moving his head off my gun. “Ouch”, he responds as the last of the reverberations die out. “Shouldn’t you be saving your shots?” A grin crosses my face as I let my impulses take over. “Maybe”, I reply, firing two more rounds for fun.

This is my journey to the centre of the crater, to kill my oldest acquaintance. My Zombie.

-Three hundred thirty-three bullets remain-