As I stand barefoot in the forest, the sun is coming up over the horizon. This is my favourite time of day; the moist cool air prickles against my skin, and I feel the damp moss between my toes. I close my eyes and focus on the wind blowing lazily through the trees. The birds start to sing their morning songs, unaware of the dangers lurking in the depths of the forest. I take a deep breath and hold it, savouring the fresh forest smell, letting it fill my lungs and not wanting to let it go. This is my true home; this is where I feel at peace. I breathe out, smile and relax. I could stay in this moment forever.
In the distance, interrupting the orchestra of nature echoing through the forest, is the unmistakable shuffling of feet. Instantly alert, my eyes spring open, and I feel as though I have been shaken from a dream. As I frantically search the tree-line, I strain to hear above the deafening sound of blood pumping in my ears. Flanked at my side is my best friend Will, standing there poised and deadly, staring at me with his unblinking green eyes. He gently nods at me and confirms that he heard it too. A boyish smile creeps across his face as he slowly draws his sword from its sheath; this is one of Will's favourite past-times.
I stand there frozen, as that familiar sinking feeling gnaws in the pit of my stomach: the anticipation of what lies ahead. Will points in the direction of the sound, and my fears are quickly confirmed by the resonant moaning of the Dead. Without hesitating, he runs fearlessly towards them with his sword drawn; his feet barely touch the forest floor. I start running and desperately try to keep up as my long hair stings my bare shoulders. I quicken my pace and lengthen my stride, being careful not to trip on tree roots. I'm glad that we are barefoot; hopefully they haven't heard us coming.
The birds have stopped singing, and for a moment, the forest is deathly silent. The putrid smell of rotting flesh consumes the both of us, even before we can see them clearly. My eyes begin to water, as the usual wave of nausea rolls over me. Even after all this time, I clutch my mouth to stop myself from retching. Swallowing hard, I focus all of my senses on the five Infected dragging their rancid bodies through the thick density of the trees. Out the corner of my eye, Will holds up three fingers, silently confirming that he will take the three Infected on his right. Holding myself centred, I give Will a curt nod, confirming that I know the plan.
In unison, we silently circle our prey on opposite sides, taking cover behind the trees and never taking our eyes off the Dead. Swords are raised, muscles tensed; they are only a few metres away now. My pulse quickens, and then in one heart sinking moment, an Infected spots me. A moan gurgles deep inside its chest as it slowly staggers towards me. With outstretched arms and snarling face, it reaches for me hungrily and closes the distance between us.
Clutching my sword tightly, I grit my teeth, and in one swift motion, slice through its neck, decapitating it. Its head thuds on the forest floor, flicking black congealed blood in every direction. The wretched thing is still chomping, rabid for human flesh. I spin around, confronted by the other Infected and shove it with the hilt of my sword. It crashes to the ground, with arms and legs flailing. Before it can climb to its feet, I mercilessly slam the end of my sword down, ending its dismal existence.
To my right Will is standing triumphantly among the bodies, covered in gore and rotten flesh. He walks up to the decapitated head, finishes it off and swiftly chucks away his spoiled jacket. I look away, feeling shameful with the familiar guilt rising; they were once human like us.
Will, knowing what I was thinking, says, "Its better off this way, Alyx."
He reaches out to me and reassuringly places his hand on my shoulder, staring at me with concerned eyes. I know he's right of course, they are no longer human; they are monsters trapped in a human shell, but it still doesn't make it easy. Will has always maintained that if he was ever turned, he would rely on me to end the suffering and assures me that he would do the same.
In this messed up world that we live in, most folks have similar pacts with their loved ones, which is the bleak reality that we have to survive in. To that end, we have to tell ourselves that someone somewhere is thankful that we have ended the eternal pain of their loved ones today, that they can now rest in peace and the never-ending hunger for human flesh is finally over. I hope with all my heart and soul that I never have to carry through with this promise to Will, for as long as we both live.
I try to swallow, but my mouth has become incredibly dry. "Let's get the yarrow and get out of here. When Joe realises that I'm gone, he's gonna go nuts!"
Will looks at me steadily. His face shines with sweat in the morning sun as he tenses his angular jaw. Using the back of his hand, he wipes away the grime from his forehead and pushes his sandy hair out of his eyes. With a solemn expression, he gently nods his head, a reminder of why we were here in the first place.
My twelve year old brother Tommy, became sick five days ago with some kind of flu virus. Some folks in town are panicking that it's the Infection, the one that brings you back to life and makes you want to eat your own family, but they are wrong, way wrong. They have to be, and that's the end of it. I know it looks similar: the high fever and the sickness, but it could be anything, and when he gets better, they will all be pretty embarrassed for not having any faith.
Feeling a little shaky, I quickly scout around the forest floor and tuck my hair behind my ears, searching for this infamous yarrow flower. I heard that it's supposed to reduce fever, and right now I'm willing to try anything. Will points to a bunch of tiny white flowers at the base of a tree and starts pulling at its roots.
"How much do we need?" he asks.
I shrug my shoulders when I realise that I have no idea. "Let's get as much as we can. Let's face it, when Joe finds out that I have been outside the walls... I'll be on lock down."
In the distance, I hear the bone-chilling shriek of the Dead echoing through the forest. My eyes instantly meet Will's as he confirms, "That's fine, but let's do it quickly."
We scrabble around on our hands and knees, stuffing as much yarrow as we can find into our pockets. I hope this stuff is as good as they say it is. If it doesn't work, I don't know what we are going to do. I grind my teeth with frustration at the thought of failure and angrily rip the tiny flowers from their roots.
As I dig my fingers into the dirt, ramming mud and stones painfully under my nails, my inner voice prattles with irritation at the injustice of Tommy's sickness. The never-ending chorus of "why us?" reverberates in my head, making me want to scream. In this new world, I bet millions of others have asked the exact same question at some point in their too short lives.
As I become more and more consumed in my own angry thoughts, another moan resonates through the trees but much closer this time. We are pushing our luck now; a small group we can handle, but a horde of Infected is a different story. That's the difference between surviving and being torn to pieces by the mouths of the dead.
Knowing that we are running out of time, Will stops me in my tracks. With glazed eyes I exhale loudly, swallowing back the quivering lump that's threatening to rise in my throat. Without making eye contact with Will, I stiffly climb from my knees and start to jog back to the town wall in silence.
As I find my stride, I focus on the cool morning air blowing against my skin in an attempt to dispel the images of my sick little brother. But the more I try, the more I see them. Images of his rosy, youthful appearance replaced with a grey ghost of his former self. Images of his now skeletal frame with eyes that are red, raw and swollen.
I stifle a sob from my chest, not wanting to appear vulnerable in front of Will. I have to stay strong and keep it together, for myself and for Tommy. I have to remind myself he can't be Infected because he hasn't been bitten. Hell, he hasn't even been outside the walls, which is the only way he could have been bitten. It's just some weird flu virus, and in a few days he'll be back to normal, driving me nuts again. He has to get better and that's the end of it.
We quickly reach the town wall and survey the area for any soldiers in the surrounding watch towers. The town's defence is stationed at five posts at the edge of the compound. If one of the guards spot us out here unauthorised, we would be in serious trouble. As I take cover, the soldiers appear to be occupied by something. I smirk when I realise they're actually tucking-in to their breakfasts. Another day of sloppy porridge out of old cans.
Will quickly seizes the opportunity and automatically goes down on one knee, interlinks his hands and offers me a leg-up. Unlike Will, who could give a Viking a run for his money, I am vertically challenged, even for a girl. He looks up at me and grins mischievously, clearly waiting for his moment to tease me.
Before he can open his mouth, I take pleasure in slapping my dirty foot in his hand and then deliberately flick some mud directly into his face. His smile drops momentarily, as he gives me a withering look. Catching me off guard, he suddenly launches me into the air. I grab the edge of the wall with my fingertips and slowly struggle to pull myself up, being careful not to graze my exposed elbows against the solid stones.
At the top, I turn to face Will and sit on the edge of the towering wall feeling drained; I haven't slept much since Tommy became sick. Noting my expression, he doesn't waste any time. Will walks a few paces away from the wall, eyeing it steadily. Taking a deep breath, he runs hard and explosively leaps for the top edge. With muscles straining, he only just grabs it and manages to pull himself up after a few grunts and some cursing.
Trying to lighten the mood, he digs me in the ribs. "Thanks for the assistance. Your enthusiasm was overwhelming!"
Feeling completely distracted, I can't find the words to retort. I open my mouth to give him my usual quippy response, but I frankly don't have the energy.
Studying my face he exhales loudly and puts his arms around my shoulders. "I know Tommy's unwell right now, but he's going to get better. He's not Infected, Ally."
I nod my head in agreement. "I know he's not, but I don't know what I would do without..."
My voice fades as the image of an Infected Tommy flashes to the forefront of my mind again. Feeling agitated, I realise I need to get back home to my family. With that thought, I drop off the wall into the town compound and grab my boots, quickly followed by Will.
The wide streets are eerily quiet, but as the morning sun rises higher in the sky, the town will shortly burst into life. The hunters will leave the town compound in search of edible meat, and the harvesters will gather vegetables from the fields. Each and every one of us has an important role to play to keep our society safe from the Dead that haunt us.
Will's home is at the edge of town, one of the original houses that existed in Merope before the spread of the Infection. His two-storey house is one of a few homes made from bricks. Most folks had to construct their houses from wood from the forest, so the homes tend to be single storey cabins with a tiny plot of land out back. This mishmash of housing is a stark reminder of what life used to be like pre-infection; a life where monsters only existed in stories and when humans were at the top of the food chain.
Will starts to walk even slower, almost dragging his feet. I know that he is dreading the wrath of his mum. She can be pretty scary at times, and when she learns that he snuck out this morning, she will be mad for sure.
With his house in view, he empties the yarrow he collected from his pockets and smiles at me lopsidedly. "Wish me luck!"
Smirking at him as I start to walk away, "I think you're going to need a miracle...not luck!"
Will walks up the path and approaches the front door. Before he enters the threshold, I call out, "Thanks for coming with me today."
He smiles at me with his twinkling green eyes and then quickly disappears into his home. I swear I can faintly hear his mum shouting.
Eager to get home myself, I stealthily make my way through the empty streets and approach the "newer" part of Merope where cabins are crammed in closely together, leaving no room for growth or privacy. Here, no-one can even fart without their neighbours knowing about it. Some of these so-called cabins were skilfully crafted and look like tiny homes; others look downright shabby with corrugated roofs that are barely secure and have serious potential of collapsing. Luckily ours isn't that bad. Joe is pretty handy when it comes to construction and resourceful during the raids.
I eventually arrive at the street where my own cabin is, and Joe is sitting in his usual spot on the porch, smoking a cigarette and looking exhausted. Joe is my uncle and unofficially adopted us when we were kids after my folks died during the first spread of the Infection. Even though he's my uncle, he looks like he could be my dad; Joe, Tommy and I all have the same signature light brown eyes that we all inherited from my grandpa, but where Tommy and Joe have my grandpa's square jaw, I have the same round face and button nose as my mum. Joe has no wife or his own kids. It's just the three of us left.
Over the years, Joe has sacrificed a lot for us. He used to be a soldier in the government's army, but after he discovered that the town that we lived in had been overrun by Infected, he left the squad to look after us. After all this time, Joe still has a 'soldier' look about him. He always maintains his short brown hair, a habit from his army days. His face and arms are deeply tanned from sitting out on the front porch, and his eyes have wrinkles around them from too much sun. Even though he's only forty-one years old, his far away eyes hide years of torment from his tour in the military, which makes him seem older than he actually is. I've asked him to tell me about the early days, when the Infection first spread, but he refuses to speak of them.
Since we came here, he has sold weapons in the market that he's either crafted himself or found during the raids. We don't have much these days, but we have enough to survive. Since the spread of the Infection, that's all anyone wants to do.
As soon as he sees me coming, he stands up with a serious expression on his face. "Please tell me, Ally, that you ain't been outside the damn walls this morning...have you kid?"
He stares at me angrily; he knows that I have been outside the walls, so there's no point lying. I nod my head steadily and reach for the yarrow stuffed in my pockets. I hold out the tiny, wiry flowers and present them to him.
"Look, please don't be mad. I wanted to get some yarrow for Tommy to see if we can get the fever down. I'm sorry. I just can't stand here and do nothing!"
His face flushes with anger. "So you thought that putting your own life at risk was worth trying to get some herb that probably won't even do anything? Jeez, Alyx, you're seventeen years old! Too young to be out there by yourself taking on Infected."
I open my mouth to justify myself further but quickly realise that I'm better off keeping quiet.
Joe exhales loudly before sitting back down on the top step and takes a deep drag on his cigarette. "I know you're trying to help kid, but there are other ways, okay! Don't make me tell you again."
He leans over and grabs a knife from the huge pile that needs to be sharpened, shoving the hilt straight into my hand. "Make yourself useful by sharpening these up. I'll be inside with Tommy."
I stare at the pile, feeling deflated. I was hoping to spend some time with Tommy this morning.
As Joe gets up to leave, he hesitates by the front door, wavering uncertainly. His shoulders slump forwards as he exhales loudly. "Give me the damn yarrow, and tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do with it!"
I turn and look at his sad eyes; he's clearly as fraught as I am. He usually wouldn't even entertain the idea of using herbal medicine, but I guess it shows just how desperate he really is. Without saying anything, I walk past him into our make-shift kitchen at the back of our house to brew the flowers, hoping with all my heart that Joe is wrong.