Lance walked alone down the long deserted road, adjusting the straps on his backpack. It was awfully hot out, and Lance was so damn tired of walking. He hadn't slept in three whole days, and hadn't eaten in about a day and a half, since he had no food left anymore. It had been about 34 days since the whole apocalypse started. At least, that had been how long it had been since the disease spread into his city. The apocalypse had started sooner than that.
The only reason why Lance knew how long it had been since the whole thing started, was because he kept track of the days in his journal. Thinking about his journal, Lance stops walking to pull off his backpack to grab his small, brown and faded journal, along with a black pen he kept in his back jean pocket. He put his bag back on, and began to write as he continued walking down the cracked and empty road.
"Day 34
No sign of anyone in the past few days, except for the occasional zombie that comes my way. The last people that I had seen had pretty much taken everything from me, and I really hope the next people I come across aren't as cruel. Sucks for them though, since I didn't really have much on me anyways. But now I have no food, and barely any ammo for my gun anymore. And to top it all off, I haven't slept or ate anything in the past few days, and it's really starting to affect me. I'm not able to focus that well, and it almost got me killed yesterday. I swear that zombie hadn't been there before.
But what should I even call those things? They're obviously zombies, but I feel like I need to give them a name that isn't 'zombie,' because then it sounds really..dumb? I don't know. But, god, I need to find some place to eat and rest for a bit. I really need it.
I wish my older brother Marco was here. He'd cheer me up and convince me that I'm going to be alright. I really miss everybody. I wonder where my family is right now. I really need to find them. I know they're alive, they gotta be out there somewhere.
Lance put his journal away and kept walking in complete silence. He looked to his left, seeing a small gas station in the distance. If he squinted hard enough, he could see that the windows were shattered, and the door was practically off of its hinges. It was probably already raided, but his hunger was only continuing to grow, so it was worth a shot. Lance walked for another minute, picking up his pace.
Once he had finally reached the gas station, he entered it slowly, holding his gun at his side in case there was anybody - or anything - in there. His gun was a Beretta M9 which he had found at an already raided gun shop a few miles back down the road. It was the only gun there that actually had bullets, so he had taken it.
He didn't know too much about guns, but his father had taught a fair amount of stuff to him when he was younger, in his preteens. He remembered that his dad would sometimes take him out to the woods on weekends to go hunting. Though Lance never had the guts to actually shoot any animals, he had a good time firing at targets that they would set up.
Lance hadn't seen anybody inside the gas station, so he began to relax a bit. He took his hand off of his gun, but he still kept his guard up as he began searching for literally anything for him to eat. Lance looked down an aisle to his right, seeing a few small candy bars.
"Food!" Lance gasped, running over. He pulled his backpack off and stuffed two of the candy bars in his backpack. He quickly stuffed the third one in his mouth after taking off the wrapper, and throwing the wrapper in the garbage can. Even if it was the end of the world, Lance wasn't about to start littering. It was so good to finally eat some food after what felt like forever.
He searched for a few minutes, going down most of the aisles and finding absolutely nothing. 'Maybe I should just leave. It seems this store is empty..' Lance thought as he went down yet another empty aisle.
