The wind was a biting cold on her bare face as she trudged through the snow, the ground crunching beneath her boots.
Her blonde hair blew into her face again, and she brushed it aside. Her body ached with the cold, and her lungs burned from the frigid air, but she pushed on. She had to get there. He was the only person she knew, and hoped that maybe he would help her, though he didn't seem much like the hospitable type.
Eventually she reached the hill where his house sat, and in the distance she saw a warm glow through the swirling snowflakes, the light from his window, and with a new surge of energy she rushed forward.
A snarl caught her ear and she whipped around. One of the undead corpses was making its way toward her, its jaw hanging open limply as its limbs swung back and forth.
With a yelp she hurried onward, nearing his house, constantly looking over her shoulder as the thing gained on her bit by bit.
She clamored onto the wooden porch and threw herself upon the door, pounding on it with frozen fists and screaming at him to let her in.
There was a crash from inside and the sound of footsteps before the door was opened, and she fell over the threshold, shivering and panting.
His gray eyes studied her for a moment before focusing on the danger at hand - the monster that approached.
Drawing a knife from his belt, he stepped into the porch in his bare feet and waited as the thing drew nearer, grunting and snarling at the smell of living, breathing man.
She watched apprehensively, clinging to the doorframe to keep her hands from trembling and her knees from buckling beneath her.
The corpse lunged at him, and with one sweep of his arm he drove the blade of his knife into the back of its skull, and it fell face first onto the steps of the porch.
He withdrew his blade, wiped the blood from it on the welcome mat and returned to the indoors, closing the door behind him and walking past her.
She followed him into the kitchen, where he began picking up scattered macaroni noodles and replacing them in the pot that sat upon the floor.
"I'm sorry I scared you," she said, sinking into one of the wooden chairs at the table.
He didn't reply, but finished his task, refilling the pot with water and replacing it upon the stove.
"My uncle is dead," she said, her voice trembling. She hadn't said it aloud before. It made it all the more real. But she was tired of crying.
He turned to look at her, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "My father is dead."
She gasped. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
He shrugged. "He had it coming."
Her eyes widened in surprise. How could he talk about his father in such a way? Though, she had met the man a few times, and recalled him being a vulgar and short-tempered sort, so perhaps he had done something to cause his own death.
He turned back to the noodles that were beginning to boil. "You hungry?"
"Yes," She said, rising to her feet.
"Good. Food'll be ready soon."
+++++
Guess who these two people are.....😋
YOU ARE READING
3 | We Who Survive the Apocalypse | ✅
Adventure***Sequel to "We Are Survivors of the Zombie Apocalypse"*** The late-January cold is seeping into the bones of Wynne, Seth, Izzy, Mara, and newcomer Hudson as they wait for a seemingly impossible reunion with Doyle, Rogan, an...
