They say that blood is thicker than water; it is the building blocks of humanity, it binds us together, and it also drives us. Drives us hungry, that is. The windows were greased with prints of plastered faces that were just hungry to get in. Literally.
The things pressed their dry, cracking lips against the glass; their eyes were wild and hungry--hungry for us. Hungry for human flesh; the warm, chewy zest of blood and skin mashing together beneath their cracked teeth. They starved for the crunch of bone and marrow. They thirsted for the quench of our blood, and it was a thirst that would never alleviate. They would yearn for years, long after we would be gone. We called them Stillwalkers. They were creatures, once human, who had been turned by one inaccurate mistake. They were turned by an accident that was so small, yet so life-changing, that none of us had anticipated an outbreak like such.
The Stillwalkers were rash and malevolent creatures who were more monster than man. They had powder-white flesh that was bruising and fading and wearing down beneath their impatient nature. Dark circles hung around their eyes--eyes that were no longer human. The eyes grew wild and menacing; angry as they hungered for warm blood.
The Stillwalkers were an imprudent race, all of which had lost their contact to who they once were when they were alive. I had once had some faith that they were still normal, still human, after they had changed. That somewhere deep inside that hollow shell of a body, there were remnants of a human soul, but the StillWalkers had proved that there was nothing left. The Survivors were all that were left to coexist with these monsters-- who had retained control for four years over the the remains of the human race.
The Survivors were the few who had endured the remorselessness of the terrorizing monsters, who would prey on any Survivor who was willing to take a chance outside. That's how many of the Survivors died--stupid, reckless, and foolish. The Stillwalkers were not to be tested. No, they were smart. They expanded and developed, as did their capabilities in the mind and the body.
It only took three weeks for the infection to spread, and four years I had lived on my own, until I met a group of Survivors,like myself, who were all too reckless and irresponsible and mindless. It only took three weeks for it to go downhill from there, and all because of us few incautious teenagers. I looked to my fear-stricken companions and everything I knew about life and surviving and keeping safe had changed. I realized in that moment that we were dead--that nothing we could have done before would have prevented this moment. I could have easily been eaten when out searching for food, and nothing of my preparation would have sufficed. In my final moments, I had to question whether we--the Survivors--were any better than the Stillwalkers, who lurked in the shallow places in the dark. Were we any more human, or they any less? What distinguished us from them? Yet I realized something else--I would not have traded my experience for anything else, as it had brought me to a new family--four teenagers who had been scared and just as lost as I was, but were stronger now. Stronger together. Nevertheless, in our inevitable final moments together, little did any of us know, the world surrounding us was changing as we knew it. Do you want to know the last thought that crossed my mind as I savored my ending moments? It wasn't about what would happen after I died, who would survive, if we were any more human; no, it wasn't about any of that. The last thing I thought was: are we worth saving at all?
YOU ARE READING
The Shallow Places (ON HOLD)
Teen FictionGabrielle Mackie is a Survivor; sixteen years old and alone in the world. She lives in a world full of Stillwalkers, where every step could be dangerous and unsafe. Gabrielle's only companion is her dog Juno, a black lab that has been by her side fo...
