All That's Left (The Walking Dead FanFiction)

Chapter 1

I’ve been watching them for days.

Every morning the pregnant woman is the first one to rise. She typically leaves the house as soon as she wakes, to begin washing clothes in a bin that’s close to the porch. Crossbow is always the last one to sleep. I only call him that because I've never see him without it. Sometimes, he stays up so late I pass out waiting for him to turn in for the night. Every night he peeks out the front window before he finally decides to sleep. Sometimes I wonder what it is that keeps him up or what it is he’s looking for.

I’ve decided tonight is the night.

I can’t go on much longer without food. I make a promise I’ll only take one can because I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I took more. One can. That’s all I need. I’ve never been one to steal, especially from people who appear to be good. But that’s the thing: people appear to be good just to take things from you. Especially now, when almost everything is gone.

But I promised Jayson I’d do whatever it took to survive.

Before I go through with my plan, I’ll give Crossbow twenty minutes after he looks out the front window. I feel for my knife, just to make sure it’s still there. I had more-a lot more- until they took everything. The memory makes my knees goes weak. I struggle to keep my balance and force myself to lean against the nearest tree until I calm down. When my breathing regulates, I take my usual position in the woods where I can see the entire front of the farmhouse and most of the back.

I lay there for hours, waiting for Crossbow to glance out the window. He finally does, and I swear for a moment he sees me.

It’s pitch black.

 It has to be past one in the morning. Not that time matters anymore. There’s no way he can see me. My heart drums in my chest. He’s going to come after me. He’s going to take his crossbow and drive an arrow through my head before I have any time to explain. With my rampant thoughts clouding my mind, I vaguely notice him close the window and blow out the last candle in the house.

He didn’t see me.

I manage to breathe even though my lungs feeling like cinder blocks. Despite the sick feeling in my stomach, the adrenaline feels good. I need to get in that house. If I go any longer without food I won’t be able to move. I’ll collapse. And the infected will find me. I won’t be able to put up a fight. I’ll feel everything. I’ll feel their teeth as they sink into my flesh. I’ll feel it as they tear through every layer of my skin. And if the infected don’t find me then the living will. I haven’t decided which of the two I fear most.

I give Crossbow what feels like close to twenty minutes, maybe more, maybe less. He has to be asleep by now. I sling my backpack across my shoulders and make my way to the backdoor of the old farmhouse. They lock all the doors at night, but they keep a spare key under one of the rocks in the back. I saw the Asian use it when he locked himself out two nights ago.

I grab the key and stare into the window on the door. It’s too dark for me to see anything, but I don’t see any figures moving around. The door creaks slightly when I open it. The sound makes me cringe. My heartbeat vibrates in my skull and my hands start to shake. I love the feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins; it makes me feel alive. It makes me alive when almost everything around me is dead.

 I push past my feelings and enter the house. I saw the police officer bring a crate of cans into the kitchen on the first day I started watching them. Almost immediately, I locate the blue crate next to the fridge. There’s at least twenty cans of peaches. I’m tempted to steal more than just the one I promised myself I’d take. My instinct to survive begs me to take the crate and run. I could probably carry the crate and manage to keep a decent pace without any of them hearing me take it. Kids live here. I need to stick to the plan. I’m wasting time trying to decide what to do. I unzip my backpack and grab the one can I allotted myself.