Take Me Home • h. styles ✔

4 | A Helping Hand

     

     One step at a time. That's the first rule that I must follow.

     There should be nothing but slow and cautious strides. These Creatures' sense of hearing was far more profound than I could've ever imagined. One snap of a twig, and they would come out running after you in a split second. Like what I had always witnessed, there was something that made them more unusual than the typical zombies depicted in movies and television shows. They had a mind of their own. They could think and plan out how they would get their lethal, sharp daggers to the flesh of their prey within seconds.

     Running would always be a second option. It would be my next preference if the first rule failed, and They were bothered with that simple snap of anything on the ground. I could say that I was a good runner, for I had my exercise routine every day. I never failed to keep up with my physical health because I knew that it would help my survival. I needed to be as fit as possible.

     My eyes turned warily in all directions, and I could see about four of them doing what they usually do. A balding, overweight man, probably in his late forties, dressed in a tattered pale blue shirt, white tie, and black shoes, was walking limply towards a car with a dead woman inside. I decided to turn my gaze away, for I knew what would happen next. They would eat virtually anything, even the toughest, oldest rotten meat that they could find. I didn't want to hear the gruesome sound when they would have contact with their prey, dead or alive.

     Then on my left side was a young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, in her ragged clothing, which I believed was once modest-looking. She had a large skull fracture, and all of her limbs appeared to have broken bones. She was dragging herself slowly along the pavement, leaving a trail of blood simultaneously. I wondered what she looked like before all of this. She might have been someone I could date or like, and I would never know. There were lots of possibilities. Sometimes, my mind has these absurd thoughts, especially whenever I see female ones on the road. I haven't had any contact with a girl for a long time, let alone another 'normal' living person.

     Girls. Women. I'd do anything to meet even just one. I needed someone to talk to. I wanted to give my love to someone, to anyone actually. I needed a friend.

     It's funny that the other two Creatures not far away neither had pants nor underwear with them. I could imagine that they were the crazy old blokes who were once lying on the streets of London, whistling idiotically at random times to get a beautiful girl's attention. I had seen people like that taking significant measures in urgent need to get attention. Too bad that people in the past didn't get the chance to appreciate the time. Ordinary people thought merely of spending time on things full of nonsense, and now, those who somehow survived this Armageddon would regret the things they hadn't done. Everything came to a perfect waste, and life was ravaged into this oblivion. As for me, life must go on, so I walked on forward.

     The road didn't really exist anymore. London had been forgotten from maps and covered with blood-stained marks. It was early morning, and I could hear nothing but their faint moans and the whispering wind. The feeling of isolation was becoming more unbearable every day. It was like a path leading to another realm, with the orange glow of daylight casting a numinous air. But I was glad that there was still light because that's where I was heading. I wanted to go home. Not until I survive this day of searching for supplies, and soon, I'd leave my house here for good.

     As I moved forward, bodies were lying on the ground. I couldn't deny that I would get scared that I might find a body of someone I knew. I always had that feeling that I wanted to look at each body just to see if one of them would be my mum or my sister, but at the same time, I wouldn't want to see them there. That feeling that you wanted to have an assurance that it was over for them and simultaneously not seeing them would ignite a spark of hope that they're still alive. It was not a comfortable feeling.