a/n: each chapter will feature a song i think goes well with the chapter's overall theme...so without further ado, welcome to the jungle ;)
song: welcome to the jungle by Guns N' Roses
VICTORIA'S POV:
Have you ever looked outside your window, and I mean, seriously looked outside, and tried to take in absolutely everything you can see?
And I'm not talking about simple things like how sunny it is, or how blue the sky is. I'm talking about the tiniest possible details that we as humans can almost barely manage to observe.
Feeling your cheek resting against the cool glass of the windowpane.
Seeing the exact directions the sun's rays hit the grass and where they reflect.
Smelling the flowers only steps from your window in your mind and breathing their scent deep into your lungs, as if to savor the memory.
Tasting the bitter air-conditioned air around you and trying to imagine what the air outside tastes like instead. Is it sweet, is it heavy, is it flavorless?
Listening to the different sounds the wind manages to produce as it whips and snaps the branches of the nearby trees.
And if you have ever actually tried to do this, you know that the feeling is nothing less than intoxicating.
That feeling of completely watching the world as some kind of outsider looking in.
And as that outsider, I always saw the world as beautiful.
And while it was broken, and filled with so much hatred, it was also brimming with life and humans and emotions and pain and all these stupidly beautiful things we never stopped taking for granted.
And I guess we took it for granted a little too much.
Because the world got angry.
And instead of giving us a slap on the wrist or shaking its finger at us in warning, it simply tried to kill us. To murder each and every one of us. To wipe out the entire human population.
With zombies of all things.
~~~~~
"SAM!!" I yell as my fist connects with the door in front of me and I begin to bang on it repeatedly. "Can you hurry your ass up?!"
"WHAT?" I hear her shout over the sound of the shower spray and I shake my head. Looking down at my digital watch, I realize it's almost 10:30 in the morning, meaning she's been in the bathhouse for what feels like an hour now. Which, she knows can get her in all kinds of trouble for overusing her allotted water rations.
"WE HAVE PATROLS TO DO," I yell again as I continue to bang on the door. We need to be checking in for patrols no later than 11 and the walk across camp takes 15 minutes at least.
I am not going to be late for the third time this week because she feels she deserves to treat the bathhouse as her own personal spa.
"WHAT?" She asks again over the noise.
"I SAID WE HAVE PATROLS!!" I yell even louder as I feel myself starting to get seriously annoyed.
And as if by some miracle, I hear the water shut off and moments later, Sam opens the door and emerges from the small stall in only a towel. Blissfully unaware, she saunters past me and makes her way to the nearby locker room, beginning to change into one of the many work uniforms we're given and mandated to wear.
I watch as she tosses the clothes on one of the benches scattered throughout the room and she begins to slip on a pair of simple black leggings. She then props her foot up on one of the benches and starts to tug her sneakers on at a painstakingly slow pace, as if we have all the time in the world on our hands.
"Um...hellooooo?" I say to her as I wave my hand in front of her face in urgency. "Can you maybe move a little faster?"
But instead of listening to me, she only sighs and rolls her eyes. "Oh Tori, chill out. We have plenty of time."
We, in fact, are very much out of time.
I'm frantic now as I glance down at my watch and back up at her, my mouth hanging open in pure frustration. "I don't know what fantasy world you're living in, but I'm pretty sure there's about to be a pretty pissed-off captain waiting for us at patrols check-in if you don't hurry your ass up!"
I hear her scoff as she reaches behind her head to gather her wet hair into one of her signature long, blonde ponytails. "Yeah because big, bad Anderson is totally going to be the one to absolutely destroy us." I hear her scoff again and mumble a 'yeah right' under her breath that I can barely make out.
"Yeah." I shoot back at her. "Anderson could very well be the person that gives us the boot straight out of camp if we can't manage to follow the few rules we're given." I turn and walk towards the bathhouse door, beginning to make my way out of the building, signaling to Sam that I'm about to leave her if she doesn't hurry up.
"No friggin' way," Sam says as she finally follows beside me, adjusting her shirt over her sports bra, trying to smooth out all the wrinkles. "Anderson's such a pussy he's probably never even gotten within ten feet of a zombie, let alone manage to shoot one. In fact, I'd be willing to bet you five bucks camp cash that he's never killed a thing in his life."
"Yeah, I don't know about that one," I respond, as we make our way down the steps leading out and down one of the many dirt pathways that connect the camp. "And to be honest, there's no way in hell I'm making another bet with you. Not after that stunt you pulled with Josh last week."
Automatically, Sam bursts out laughing and I roll my eyes, my irritation with her growing even stronger.
Sam's ultimate vice was gambling. She was constantly using her weekly allowance that everyone in the camp referred to as 'camp cash', to start mostly rigged bets she knew she could win to pocket some extra dollars on the side. Just the previous week, I had been dumb enough to fall for one of her little stunts and had bet her ten dollars that this younger kid Josh, would at one point manage to misfire his gun during the weapons training sessions for kids we often helped out in.
Josh had told me he had never shot a gun before in his life and me being an idiot, believed him. He managed to get through the entire session without firing a single stray bullet and when I had praised him after the class ended, he simply turned his back away from one of the targets set up at the end of the range and shot it directly in its bulls-eye, not even batting an eyelash. Sam had almost peed herself laughing as she high-fived Josh and slipped him a five on his way out. Turns out they had been in cahoots the whole time.
"Now that shit was funny." She laughs as we make our way past the dining hall and recreation room that is located across from one another. "I still can't believe you fell for that one. Like seriously, Josh was a floater for like a year at least while only being ten goddamn years old. You seriously thought he survived a full floater year without shooting a gun?"
"Whatever," I mumble and look at the ground below me, focusing back on the path to the compound gym that doubles as a check-in point for patrol groups.
Floater. I think to myself. So weird.
Even after over four years in our new world, I still can never seem to get used to some of the new vocabulary we've created. One word in particular, floater, refers to the unknown number of humans left in this world who survive on their own, outside of the survivor camps. And I say 'unknown number' simply because we have no idea how many people are even left in this world.
More times than not, floaters come to find us rather than us finding them. Our mission as a survivor camp is simply to live to see another day while only killing zombies if they pose a direct threat to us. Some people greatly oppose this practice and decide not to become members because they want to kill as much as possible.
Another big reason people often decide not to assimilate into camps like ours is the huge amount of rules we're given to follow. In exchange for a somewhat normal life in the camp, you pretty much give up your individuality to serve the greater good of the community.
Which, after being a floater myself for over two years, I was fine with.
Because that life, that loneliness, that starvation for not just food but also human touch and any kind of emotion, was a hell I would never wish on anyone.
And every night, I still wake up screaming as the memories from those two years force themselves back in my head and warp themselves into the most painful nightmares.
"What corner do you think we'll be posted at today?" Sam asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I look up back from the ground and realize that we've arrived outside the large, brick building that houses the gym and training facilities we're allowed to use in the small amount of free time we're given.
Needless to say, I have a huge problem with randomly zoning out in the middle of conversations.
"In your head again?" Sam questions as she tries to read my face for emotion.
I nod and offer her an apologetic smile. "Sorry," I say, reaching to open the pair of glass doors in front of us.
She only shrugs and smiles. "Don't worry about it."
As my best friend, Sam knows all about the horrors and trauma I experienced before arriving at the camp. She knows I suffer from some severe form of PTSD and even though she hasn't gotten a full night's rest the entire year I've been here because of my nightly screaming, she's never complained once.
She's truly the most amazing friend I could ask for.
Sam and I head into the gym and have to quickly adjust our eyes to the lower lighting. Since many resources like water and electricity are scarce now, we have to preserve as much as possible which results in a lot of dirty, dimly lit places and recycled water.
Yeah, the apocalypse isn't so glamorous now, is it?
"JOHNSON. BECKETT." I hear Anderson bark from one of the corners of the large room. "You're fucking late again."
I can almost feel Sam roll her eyes as she quickly snaps back, "Yeah what about it?"
"You're absolute idiots! That's what's 'about it'." He counters back, putting air quotes around the words as we approach the table he's standing behind. I see he's holding his infamous clipboard that seems to always be attached to his hip and
"Yeah well, I was dealing with some girl issues." She says, smirking.
Even in the low light, I can see Anderson's body go rigid. He's only a couple years older than us and definitely still gets nervous around girls, let alone girls talking about things like periods.
"I'm sure you get it." She says, watching him get more and more uncomfortable with every word. "You know, how difficult it can be sometimes to find a tampon in the apocalypse."
Anderson automatically coughs at the use of the word 'tampon' and buries his head back into the clipboard he's holding in his hands.
"Oh- well, erm, uh," He stammers as Sam continues to smirk, watching him squirm.
"So if you could just go ahead and check us off of that pretty little list of yours, Jason, it would be much appreciated." She says, reaching over the table and jabbing her finger onto the stack of papers clipped on the board.
Anderson seems to get even more flustered at the use of his first name and he hurries to find our names on the papers, eager to end the interaction with Sam and me.
In only a few seconds, he's crossed off our names and handed us the guns we're issued during each patrol shift. After each shift, we're required to turn the guns back in, which leaves us somewhat defenseless on our off-time, which is another reason some people choose not to join camps like ours.
And if you thought people loved the second amendment before, just imagine what some people are like now with zombies running around.
After loading our guns and using the leather straps to swing them around so they lay flat across our backs, Anderson tells us that we've been assigned to patrol a portion of the Northern quadrant with Daniel and Matt, two other guys around our age.
"Ooooooo..." Sam coos turning to face me. "Danielllll...."
Instinctively, I reach to smack her on the arm, feeling a slight heat spread to my cheeks. "Shut UP!" I whisper yell but Anderson has already heard Sam's comment and I see him roll his eyes.
"You loooooove him," Sam responds back to annoy me more before I reach out to hit her again.
"Can you two maybe stop dicking around for five seconds and get your asses to the border to do the job you're already fucking late for?" Anderson snaps at us.
Sam barks out a short laugh and still reveling in her little lie from earlier, she smirks again at Anderson and jokingly thanks him before she and I jog off to meet up with the boys. Our portion of the Northern quadrant is only about a half a mile from the gym but I'm still sweating from the quick run when we arrive.
To make a long story short, I'm somewhat involved with Daniel. He's lived on base with his entire family since the initial outbreak began and, even before Sam, he was the first person I met who was my age when I woke up in the medical wing after finding the camp.
I've never been quite sure why he took such an interest in me from the second I arrived but I assume it had something to do with his dad being the leader of the camp. He probably was forcing Daniel to hang out with the 'new girl' to show me there was a strong sense of leadership in the camp but even if it was forced, I didn't mind.
And even though I still wasn't even conscious when I was still receiving around-the-clock medical care in the hospital wing for my starved and dehydrated state, he never left my side, eager to meet someone new.
I remember waking up from my weak state three days later and thinking I was simply hallucinating this handsome guy with long black hair who was passed out in a chair by my bed.
Right off the bat, he took me under his wing and declared himself my official 'tour guide', showing me the basics of how life worked at the camp and helping me acclimate. He had even been the one who introduced me to Sam.
For the first few months I had known him, he was nothing short of an incredibly sweet guy who was always willing to be woken up in the middle of the night to spend time with me after the nightmares kept me awake.
Multiple times a week I would creep into his cabin and stir him awake before he wrapped me in one of his blankets and walked me outside to do nothing but talk.
I was eternally grateful for him and the genuine kindness he had shown me in the first few months, but recently, things felt off.
Lately, he seemed more angry and violent at random things and had repeatedly brought up the topic of sex and how we hadn't had it yet.
It was such a cliche but I was still this wide-eyed virgin when it came to sex, whereas he had previously had sex with random girls in high school, as he liked to tell me all the time.
We had kissed and done other stuff a few times before but every time he had reached under his bunk to grab a condom in the few moments we managed to have alone in the shared cabins, I had freaked out a little and decided against it.
It wasn't like the act of sex really scared me since I had sucked his dick multiple times, but to be honest, I wasn't quite sure how much I actually enjoy it.
However, every single time I said no, he would visibly get upset with me and we would get into these large, explosive fights that always entailed him yelling some pretty awful stuff at me before I would run out crying and he would chase after me, taking me into his arms, talking about how continuing to not have sex would hurt our relationship. Oftentimes, I would also get the silent treatment for a few days after but he told me that was only because my nightmares were often too draining for him to deal with multiple days in a row.
And I couldn't help but agree with him.
Sure, I realized it wasn't the healthiest relationship but deep down, I knew he was still the same guy who slept by my hospital bed for three days just because he cared for me.
In fact, one of these 'denying sex' instances had happened only two days prior to today so I was little nervous to be paired back with him on patrols.
But I'm sure everything would be fine.
Once at our quadrant, I see that Daniel and Matt have already relieved the groups watching this area before us and they greet us enthusiastically, probably happy to not be paired with any adult groups who take patrols way too seriously.
And yes, while the threat of literally being eaten alive and turned into a monster looms over our heads every minute of every day, the threat of attacks on camps as big as ours is incredibly low, meaning that a majority of patrol shifts aren't taken very seriously. Especially by teenagers.
But before I can even think about our little fight from before, Daniel is walking up to me and reaches to engulf me into a huge hug, burying his head into my neck.
It seems that all has been forgiven.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to him before he starts to grip me tighter.
I wait for a response or apology from him but I only feel him nod.
"Okay, okay break that nasty shit up," Sam shouts over to us from the fence she's leaning up against. "We got zombies we need to fuck up."
I try to pull back from Daniel's hug around me but he moves his hands down to my wrists, grasping them a little too tightly and I feel him hiss into my ear a short, "We'll talk later." before releasing me.
It's such a simple sentence but it still manages to send a chill down my spine.
"You know," I hear Matt shout from a few feet away. "I wish there would be something we need to shoot." He's lying face-up in the grass by the fence with his defined arms propped behind his head and motions for Daniel to join him.
I've been working patrols for almost a year now and never have I, or anyone close to me, had to shoot anything like a pack of zombies or even a single stray, simply because
Patrols are really meant to make people feel a little safer and sleep better at night, knowing that on the other side of the ten-foot walls that surround us, are people armed and ready to shoot at a moment's notice. But, attacks are still very rare.
"Anderson pissed at you for being late?" I hear Daniel ask as he distances himself from me and takes a seat on a rock next to Matt, kicking his long legs out in front of him. Physically, he's always been fit and stronger than me but he knows I can be somewhat of a runner when I want to be. He's also pretty tall for someone our age and even at all of my five-foot-eight height, he still has a good four inches on me.
Sam scoffs as she slides herself down the back of the fence, sitting herself down in the grass so her back is leaning against it. "Nah. He was only pissed because he couldn't challenge me on my 'girl problems' excuse."
Daniel and Matt both snicker in response as I join Sam in leaning against the fence.
"He was also probably pissed because you know he's into you," I interject as I adjust my gun to sit low on my hip instead of my back.
Sam chuckles at this comment too as Daniel and Matt both begin to settle into telling us about some rumor going around that one of their cabin mates is sleeping with some older woman whose name I don't recognize.
For two grown and insanely masculine boys, Daniel and Matt always seem to have the best camp gossip. Probably because Daniel's dad does run this place.
"Nah. I call bullshit." I hear Sam say but I don't hear the boy's response as my mind retreats in on itself.
My constant habit of zoning out is usually a pain to deal with but on patrols, it often comes in handy. Patrols can last anywhere from six to eight hours, depending on where people are needed in other jobs in the camp, and as I said before, there's nothing to do in those hours except sit and wait for zombies who never actually appear, to magically show up.
Yet again, another reason some people decide not to join survivor camps.
All in all, I get it.
I really do.
I know that giving up the freedom to choose how and when you live your life sounds anything less than ideal, but if you had seen what I had seen for the two years I was left alone in the woods, starving, emotionless, and lonely, you would take living here over absolutely anything.
Because at the end of the day, I still have a bed to sleep in, food in my stomach, and a loving boyfriend and friends by my side.
Which is more than I can say for my family.