The head. That's how they are stopped.

When I was done with the house I left. I didn't even look back at what was once a little boy. As much as I wanted to be sad, I reminded myself of everything that I had witnessed. That they don't feel anything. I never thought that I could kill, or at least thought I couldn't. One thing's for sure though. I really wanted to live. It wasn't at all conflicting. Perhaps with the memory loss or head trauma I don't really know myself anymore.

Yet in the back of my mind, what if there is something that I never should've forgotten?

I reached my home, well my destination just a little before nightfall. By what has become instinct to me already, I check all around the house and the yard and double tap the window to see if anyone or anything is inside. After being greeted with only silence, I go inside. I take a deep breath and open the door. Becoming a habit of mine apparently. There's still enough light in here that I don't need a flashlight.

The first thing I go to is the kitchen. There I find a small toolbox under the sink. New items to the inventory is a hammer and for some reason, a screwdriver as well.

Nothing of use to me in the living room. There were some movies and books on a rack but that's about it. I don't think it would be ideal to watch anything or read given the circumstances. There were also no pictures.

Walking upstairs and into the main bedroom, it looked relatively undisturbed and almost clean. As I go through my things, I find some knives that aren't from the kitchen. Like a lot of them, at least seven. Nope. Eight, one was underneath my pillow. Something tells me that I have a slight thing for knives. I put five of them in my pack but easy to get to if need be and the other two attached to my pants on the little things that your belt goes through.

I grab two or three changes of clothes which I rearrange into the pack as well. Another room is filled with more books but nothing else. I still didn't find any pictures.

It only took me an hour to go though what was my home. After my tiring journey, I decided to stay here for the night and rest up. Seemed like the better option since nothing appeared to be touched since the last time I was here. This time it was much harder for me to fall asleep. It felt more of a stranger's house than it did my own despite that the night before I did actually sleep in a stranger's house.

Thankfully I did manage to drift off until I was awoken in the middle of the night from noises coming from outside. Going back to sleep wasn't an option since the ruckus continued. Eventually curiosity got the better of me and I went looking to one of the windows. I saw a raccoon running through the legs of those things. Either they aren't interested or they can't see it.

I get my answer when another raccoon falls from a tree near one of them. In an instant, they all begin to snarl and try to find the little furry creature but failed to see him already up the same tree.

So, they can't see in the dark. Well neither can I. I can't exactly be waving a flashlight around without the risk of them finding me. But it looks like their sight at night might be worst so I may have a chance.

I have to take advantage of this in some way. Going back to my bed I gather up my things, and when I go to the downstairs window, I throw one of the vases from the shelves outside and onto the street. They snarl again, surrounding the area in which I threw it in hopes of finding the source of the noise. With the distraction, I go to the other side and exit through the back door.

Walking up the street, my feet freeze for a moment making me stop. I take a quick glance back to the house I just left. My heart kind of hurts because I found no pictures, not of me or anyone. Was I alone? I don't mean living alone because it's obvious that I was, but did I not have any friends or family?

How can a person be that alone in a world full of people?

I almost start to cry at the thought but immediately my mind makes me see another perspective. I have less to be concerned with. I don't have to worry about looking for someone. I don't have to be worried about if I never found them. Or what if I did find them and it wasn't ideal? Such as finding them and then finding out that they are one of those things. It's almost a relief. All I have to do is focus on my own survival.

Does that make me cruel?

It doesn't matter. Turning back around again, I keep moving. It's all I have to do. Survive and keep moving. So that's exactly what I plan on doing. First things first though, I need to figure out exactly what those things are. I know their weakness is their head, but that can't be the only one. I also know from watching that couple that they will most certainly eat you. Given how the woman died and the numerous bite marks the others had it's safe to conclude that if you got bitten by them then within the night you will become one of them.

I wonder what else there is.

Forgetting the ApocalypseNơi câu chuyện tồn tại. Hãy khám phá bây giờ