A Story To Tell: Season 1| A Zombie Apocalypse Story (Completed)

Day 32.0

"About earlier, man- I'm sorry about your family. I'm sure you'll find them," he says, taking a sip straight out of his bottle. "Want some?"

"This is where you're wrong, Trevon. I'm not gettin' them back. Why does everyone lie about this? Someone says that I will find my loved ones if I keep searching and if I have hope. I haven't had enough time to see them. Before this... I was in Afghanistan. I got sent home a couple of months ago. It was late January. They kept the Christmas tree up for me just so I could have Christmas with them. Christmas is now just a faint memory. A dream. I don't think we'll ever see a Christmas again." I rub my forehead, looking down. I take the now half-empty bottle and take a small sip of it. "This is some strong stuff. Some smooth sipping too."

"I thought you said you weren't gonna drink any." He sits up, staring at me obnoxiously close to me.

"Shut up."

"Weren't you saying how we should keep our guard up? That we shouldn't be drinking on the job? That we need to be all big and mighty to protect people?" He steals the flask back.

"I said shut it up," I articulate, balling up my fist. I glance sharply in the other direction.

"We should be protecting others instead of getting drunk," he says mockingly, trying to sound sober.

"Shut up!" I blow up at him completely, screaming into his face. I shove him, and he almost stumbles off of the top of the truck. I sigh out. "You need to go and get some water. You're gonna end up throwing up your own breakfast if you don't." I snatch the whiskey out of his hand.

"Alright, man. Will do." He almost falls as he tries to climb down. I see another one come through the trees. I lock my eyesight on it and aim. I hit the shoulder the first time but make the head second time around. "Ahh!" I hear a deep shout. "Ff-Hell. Bloody Hell." I take a handgun from my holster and jump off the truck. I see one of those things tear the flesh of his arm off and in that very same moment, I shoot.

The body falls onto Trevon. "No-no. Trevon. Oh, God. Please help me." I push off the I take off the top half of my uniform and tie it right above the wound. I lift up his heavy figure and take him to the passenger side of the truck. I slam the door shut and take the automatic off the roof. I start the truck and hit the gas, turning the truck around and leaving tread marks in the grass.

"Hang in there, Tre. We're gonna get back there safely. Don't you worry. Here... drink some more." Sweat forms on the temples of my forehead, slowly dripping down my face. Dust picks up behind the vehicle as we near the end of the dirt road. I turn to a paved road where I speed up. "Come on man, stay with me. Aw, hell. I've been around you too long." I smile, but it is short-lived. "I'm startin' to pick up on your awful habit of sayin' man."

"Teh-tell me about your wife. Your kih-kid," he says, short of breath. He closes his eyes, breathing rapidly.

"Weh-well okay. I've known my wife since-since high school, but we did-didn't date till community college. We-we finished community college together, an-and then I joined the military. After a few months, I came back and w-we got married and we found out Sandra was pregnant four months later. A month after that, I was deployed again. Luckily I was able to make it back in time for the last three and a half months of her pregnancy. I was able to stay home for a while after, but seven months after Weston was born, I was deployed yet again. Then present day. Christmas and then this." I glance at Trevon.

"I-I can't imagine hav-having a kid. What-what does he look like?" His whole face is saturated with his own sweat.

"Green eyes. Brown hair that's just like mine. Freckles like his momma." I rub my mouth before speaking again. "I love them. I love them with my whole heart." My voice falters more as I think of them longer.

"You-you know, that-that's nice. I wish I could get th-the chance," he whispers, his voice weaker than ever. "I-I'm only nineteen, man. I went straight to the military after high school." The sky grows even darker, and some rumbling shakes the ground. Thunderstorm.

"You stop talking, now. You're only getting weaker. We'll be there soon." Eventually, I feel relieved when I see the facility near, being surprised that I was even able to get back. "Let us in, quickly!" I scream. The gates open and I speed up to the building as promptly as I can. I speed down the dirt road until I reach the building with blue garage doors.

"There's a casualty! Trevon was bit in the arm!" I go to the passenger side and wrap his good arm around my neck. A group of the men runs out, guns in hands. "We need some medical attention. Pronto!"

"Thank you. For telling me about Weston." A gunshot rings through the air and Trevon's body weight is brought down on my shoulder. I look at one of the men with the nastiest glare I can execute.

"I did what was necessary. We can't have this place become a damn three-ring circus around here," the man with black hair says. "Come on, let's throw him into the open field. Before his blood stains the concrete more." He spits into the ground and gestures a couple of men to collect his body. Rain starts falling and pattering on the concrete.

"No! Don't you dare touch that body. We are not just throwing him in the field with the others. He is one of our men- we bury our own men," I bark, spit flying out of my mouth. "Anyone gonna help me dig for him? At least give me a shovel." One of the other men comes back out with a shovel for me. I snatch it with my available arm and drag his limp body to behind the small white buildings. There is a small opening, surrounded by a cemented path behind the building.

I lay the body down carefully and find a spot to dig a grave. I shove the shovel into the grass and uproot it. I continue to dig, barely making a dent in the ground. I grunt angrily and shovel up some more dirt. The rain loosens up the solid soil but also makes the soil turn muddy, causing it to become heavier. I dig for what feels like the whole day. I check my watch and see that it is nearing six pm. Almost six hours I've been digging. I lift myself with as much of my upper body strength that I can. I push his eyelids closed, his dull, brown eyes lifeless. I take his body and place it into the deep hole. I spend around an hour and a half filling the whole and then another half an hour creating a cross with his name carved in it. I hammer down the cross into the saturated soil.

I walk back inside with all of the tools and go into the kitchen. I take a few of the MRE's with water bottles and walk to the dungeon room that we call the holding room. The two tired looking men look up at me and I shake the packaged meals. "I'm gonna help you get out of here... tonight."