Making Friends Out of Strangers

Once upon a time, the world had room for simple things such as friendships, comfort, and happy lives. After the epidemic, however, such luxuries disappeared. People lot everything - Their homes, their food, even their own humanity. Some died and became monsters, some fought and became nightmares. There wasn't a single shred of good left in anyone, not even children. There was no room to be, not for those who wanted to survive against the madmen and undead cannibals that came in greater abundance than decent human beings.

Louissa Sherman had never viewed the world as a perfect place full of people who sought to do good without expecting something in return. There had always been a storm around every corner, wolves in sheep's clothing hunting down anyone incapable of protecting themselves. Such was the way of life. Being the wolf had always made Louissa's life easier. Safer, even. And since the world fell into anarchy it had been the only way she managed to survive. There was no such thing as stealing anymore, making her life even easier than before. Laws and expectations were gone. There wasn't even any shame in leaving someone to die or the sake of your own life, so long as you could come up with an excuse to tell yourself every time you started to feel bad about it. You didn't know them, for example. They gave you a funny look and now you don't trust them. You thought they were infected. You didn't hear them scream. As long as it helped you sleep a little bit easier, it worked.

The only life Louissa was worried about saving was her sister's. It had been four months since she and Anna got separated, but Louissa still had hope that one day they would find each other again despite the thousands of places she could have been, one of which very likely being six feet underground. Or in the stomachs and between the teeth of several walking corpses. But she would never lose hope, not unless she found Anna's body. Even that in itself was highly unlikely and she knew it, but until she had some form of proof she would never let herself believe that she was dead and give up on her. Nothing in this world mattered more to Louissa than her little sister. It had been that way since they were kids, and that would never change. That she knew for certain. In fact, it was likely the only thing she was certain about these days.

As she wandered aimlessly in one direction and then another, she wondered if she was even in Alabama anymore. She'd been passing through the states like a strong summer breeze since the beginning of the epidemic, and she moved even quicker after losing her sister in a desperate attempt to "catch up" with her. But since the three of them - Louissa, Anna, and Anna's husband, Bobby - had been moving around in no particular direction, the idea of "catching up" was a little far-fetched and she knew it. Still, there was always that little flicker of hope among all that doubt.

Louissa's navigational skills had always been horrible, which was why she had never planned to leave New Orleans before the world transformed into a giant rock populated by rotten corpses. She wasn't even sure she was in Alabama anymore. Everything just looked the same - Bare and ruined and completely unfamiliar. The only difference between the town she was currently passing through and all the other towns before it was the sign at the entrance that read, "WELCOME TO HELL." Beneath the bright red spray paint of the last word, Louissa thought she could make out something like Ranburne. The sign looked like it had been made after the apocalypse, which didn't make a lot sense to her, but she didn't think much of it. The only thing that struck her as odd, in fact, was the lack of the undead; she hadn't seen a single one since she arrived, except for the occasional resident of a locked house or maybe a few crawlers. It would have been bliss if Louissa hadn't known that places like this were the results of mysterious forces that were never good, from heavily armed groups to one single horde sitting in one spot. Either was possible, especially since this Hell-Ranburne seemed pretty spread out; there probably hadn't been a very big population here in the first place, and it would have been easy to eradicate most of the undead unless they grouped together and decided to die in the same place, like a church or something else that was equally cliche.