The Ruins Of Indianapolis

The Ruins

We're kids, cool kids. There was a zombie apocalypse, Jeremiah is a fearless hero of survivors, Elijah is rugged and strong, Maddie is mean and generous. Elijah and Maddie are sweet on each other, and with the power of love, they overcome all challenges. Manuel was a saint, no survior. He helped the wounded, and cleaned up dirty work. Everyone played an essential role, all the pieces were put together, and they went on to adapt, fight, and be awesome hero's.

Yeah, that would've been nice. A world where Maddie wasn't caught by a horde, and bellowed until she was torn out of her skinsuit.
Jeremiah sacrificed himself for maddie early on, got his cheek bitten off, and shot himself to avoid the complications of the infection, just like mostly eveyone else who was bit. He didn't have his goodbyes written.
He will be forgotten.

Manuel. We never saw him since the invasion, but we found him hanging from a swingset in Garfield Park. Unlike the others, he had his final thoughts in mind. Sitting on the swing on the far right, read a mud stained letter, essentially just a memoir of his life. He was a coward, a coward who will now swing forever at his favorite park.

I got away, but, I couldn't even call it that if I was honest to myself. No, I was a liar. A fucking liar.
I told a woman and her children I was going towards salvation, a place the military had set up, and they followed me. If only...
I feel bad, but there was no other way past the horde downtown. I led them to their shreds, and while the horde was distracted, snarling and slobbing over the bodies, I silenty stepped pass to the marriott.

1st floor, 2nd floor, 10th floor, 24th floor, the power wasnt out yet, and the elevator was safe. Wouldn'tve minded if it fell, either. The elevator opened to the roof and the snowy air almost paralyzed me. I felt weak in the knees

My breakfast came up, and the reality of the situation forced me down.

I fell onto my hands and knees, and my hands planted into the vomit I produced. Its mixed with blood, and came with a headache. I killed those people.
I wipe my dirty, bloody, vomit covered hands onto my hoodie, and took off my hoodie, tossing it onto the vomit without thinking. I don't need it.

Wind chills burned my face and hands, snowflakes bit my arms.
I stepped onto the rim of the building, and I looked over the city. All in ruin, all in disgusting, flesh filled ruin. I see it now, buildings covered in vines, flesh rotting into the pavement, undisturbed saplings filling the city. Life would be even better than where we left it. Who were the REAL parasites to this world? Us, or them?

I deserve to live right? Even though this isn't my life. That woman, crying for her babies, as she reached her torn up, outstretched arm towards them, and watched helplessly as blood poured from their throats, and their limbs were torn to the bone.
Her skin was picked clean, her bones left where she lie, wet and scattered.
I can see it now.
This is her life.

I watched the city lights die infront of me. Not simultaneously, but each one died in slow wave. Dying lights, spreading like an infection.

I'm a parasite. Parasites don't belong. Parasites need to be eliminated.

And as the last light as far as I could see faded,
I stepped off the marriott.
And the city never looked so awful.