Everybody Dies In Their Nightmares

Our Love is Six Feet Under

When the virus struck, it took people out in waves. Hundreds of people dropping like flies, only to get back up as mindless, brain-dead monsters. Those who weren't killed in the initial outbreak were hard pressed to survive. The old fell first, and then the sick. It spread uncontrollably throughout the population until seemingly nothing was left.

Jasper Oakland and his father had survived together for twenty-three days before Jasper found himself alone.

Now, fifty-seven days later, he still wonders what went wrong that night. It was supposed to be a simple supply run, just down the street to the gas station, in and out in a jiffy, his father had said. His father was wrong. Jasper waited for him to return to him for exactly three days before he went looking. He wished he hadn't.

He had entered the gas station quietly and slowly. His body had seemed to be on autopilot as he followed the small trail of blood to the back. His hands had shook as he opened the backroom door. He wished he hadn't. On the floor in front of him sat his father's body. He didn't seem to have any wounds other than entry point of his .45 right in the center of his forehead.

Jasper had cried, and cried, and cried until he felt empty. He hadn't seen another living person since. He was starting to lose hope. His life was nothing more than a constant fight for survival with no one to survive for. He was completely and utterly alone.

"Twenty more days. If I am still alone in twenty days, I'll end it." He whispered to himself.

The days passed slowly, one day turned to three, and three to six. Jasper aimlessly wandered what used to be his beloved childhood home and town, now only just a wasteland belonging to the dead.

It was on the eighth day of his mental pact when it happened.

Jasper was dragging his tired body back home after another day of doing nothing useful when he heard it, the sound of gunshots. His eyes lit up in a way they hadn't in a long, long time, and his tired body was suddenly thrumming with energy. He took off towards the shots, not a thought in his head about the danger he could be sprinting into.

He had one thing on his mind, and that was that he couldn't stand being alone any longer.

He finally came to a stop a little ways back from where he could see a man, barely older than him, on top of a semi, surrounded by the dead. Jasper watched him in silent awe, his body trembling at being so close to another living person after so, so long.

The man himself was magnificent. He moved fluidly through the motions of aiming and firing his weapon, he showed no fear, nor did he show any panic. Only when the last shot popped off and the man jumped down did Jasper realize his opportunity was going to slip through his fingers.

"Wait!" He called out to the man, wincing as his voice cracked and seemed to be swallowed by the silence.

The man paused and turned to look at Jasper. His eyes widened in shock before he began making his way slowly, and warily towards Jasper. Tears slipped down Jaspers dirt stained cheeks and he prayed this wasn't a dream, that someone was finally there, that he was no longer alone.

The man stopped a few feet away from Jaspers slight form with a perplexed look on his handsome face.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, examining Jaspers face. He documents the most prominent things, the dull, faded, sad eyes, the thin lips, his upturned nose. He found himself thinking that this stranger was quite beautiful.

"I'm sorry," Jasper said, breaking the stranger from his examination, "Its just...its just been so, so long since I've seen anyone other than the dead. I've been alone for so long...I..."