Just north of Whitesburg, Georgia was a cemetery. This cemetery was like any other, dead people, tombstones, the whole lot. What was of particular interest in this cemetery were the pair of humans running for their lives from a horde of diseased corpses. The absurdity of this would've baffled any normal human being before the outbreak but this was not some horror book nor was it some sick mind fuckery by some screwed alien race that used our despair for entertainment. No. This was real life. And look at how fucked up it is. Jonas Soberano was having a bad day. It might've been an understatement but to keep it simple, it was bad. It had been bad for several days beforehand. Really, if we were to be realistic, the last two years have been bad.
But, for the sake of the narrative, the last week has sucked. Balls. Hairy, veiny sweaty testicles. The ground was wet with blood, the walking dead were chasing them in their walking manner and they had minimal supplies and ammo. The Filipino checked his rifle, two bullets in the Remington before he had to use his spares. Beforehand, he had marked all his spare rounds with a marker. He would only use them when he was in a tricky situation. They had been rummaging through the store next to Church Street, desperate for food and water. Instead, all they found was an active alarm and a sign for the walkers saying "Come here and eat me!"
Starving, thirsty and out-of-breath, our neighbourhood nice guy was doing badly. He looked back to the horde, the walkers quickly trying to form a circle around the pair of weary travellers. They were currently in a crescent formation. With only the forest ahead and walkers behind them, they only had one option. He reached out to his partner with his left arm, the right holding his rifle. "
Victoria! We need go into the forest, circle around that black house we passed by and try and lose them in the highway. Let's go!"
There was no bullshit in his statement, no joking around, no playful tease. This was a survivor's voice, tone and orders. Even someone as childish as Jonas knew the severe consequences of miscommunication during such a dire moment such as this. Gathering the last of his energy, he grabbed her hand and bolted to the forest. Hopefully this doesn't go badly. All throughout this mess, he had been wishing. Praying to God that they would be able to cuddle tonight. Praying that they could live another day, another week, another year. That things go smoothly for the two of them, that life couldn't get any worse than the dire straits they were in right now. Thoughts raced as his legs pumped with the last of his adrenaline. Unfortunately for him, there was no god.
Just some bitch named Lady Luck.
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Altered Tundra
