The Last Survivors

Chapter 1-3

It was a hot sunny day. The birds were singing and the sun was shining, beating down on my skin.

I was wearing my black sports bra and ripped stained bikers shorts that looked more like torn men's boxers. They were grey and stained with dried blood but looked more brown than red. I dragged my baseball bat behind me as I tasted my own salty sweat run down my scarred up face. You'd think I was in a fight with a razor.

But even if that were the case, a razor would have been my least concern. I had to fight to survive. Nobody could live if they couldn't fight. My baseball bat was stained with old, dried blood and fresh, new blood. But it was anything but fresh, to say the least.

My pocket knife was in a little pouch in my shorts as I carried my green camouflage backpack over my shoulder. Damn, was it heavy. I decided that I'd walk a little farther just to make sure I was out of sight before I'd take a break. I wish I could say set up camp, but staying in one place for too long is how you die. If you can't fight; you die. As long as you're able to understand what you need to do in order to survive, there's that tiny chance that yes, you will be able to live on.

I haven't seen any living thing in days. By a 'thing', I mean people. I have seen the dead walking aimlessly through neighborhoods, the streets, and obviously cemeteries. Yes, you heard me right; the dead. The deceased. You won't know fear until you've been attacked by a zombie. I should know because I was attacked. The scars on my face were caused by being thrown through glass as it'd shatter along my body, cutting myself by accident when trying to stab a zombie with my pocket knife, and even being clawed at by their long, lifeless talons for nails.

The virus has been getting worse now, if only we could've vaccinated everybody - or at least enough to keep the virus from spreading. But being in Florida, it was highly unlikely that even at least 15% of Florida had been vaccinated. Seeing that they all thought that the government was trying to control them and have their 'rights' revoked. Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?

I'm obviously vaccinated. My two sisters, mother, and grandmother have all been vaccinated. The four of them found somewhere away from the zombie hoards - far enough not to be tracked down by scent. I decided to leave so I could try to find other survivors. Maybe a boy my age - hopefully. But little did I know that they would find me.

The virus has only mutated, nothing had gotten better. It's been almost five years since the start of the outbreak in December 2019. Not only has the virus mutated to extreme measures, but it caused its victims to resurrect themselves. It doesn't matter how badly they've decayed. They've found a way to infect others.

You cannot go anywhere without a weapon. Nothing, no one, and nowhere is safe. They will find you. Luckily, if their brains had rotted enough, they couldn't figure out how to climb up walls. If they were fresh victims (fresh being new victims; people who had been infected at least a few months prior), they'd be able to climb walls. I'm thankful to not have run into any of the fresh victims yet.

Anyway, it was midday. Like I'd already said, it was a hot sunny day as the warm sun beat down on my skin.

More of my salty sweat trickled down my neck to my collarbone which slowly made its way to my chest and between the little bit of cleavage I was showing. I wasn't trying to look good or sexy when I mean cleavage because hot and sunny days mean you're gonna need to wear as little amount of clothes as possible. So, it was maybe around 94 degrees outside.

I'm here, walking out in the open with my baseball bat dragging behind me on the disheveled cobblestone road with my green camouflage backpack hanging over my shoulder.

I wanted to sit down and rest but in order to rest, I'd have to continue walking for another several more miles before knowing I'm safe from the walking dead.