"Second Chances" - Short Story

Running through the woods with a horde of zombies on your back wasn't exactly the way you pictured yourself dying. I know it's not something you usually think about and there is definitely no such thing as a good way of checking out but this wasn't the idea you had in mind. Even long after the break, after spending months and months on your own with no end, you would expect leaving this world in a more heroic way.

No one knew what was actually going on until it was already in the streets, tapping on your windows and calling you from outside to come out and play. Connections were lost in less than a week, hospitals were emptied, police was no where to be found. The chaos began.

People were running, stealing everything they could, getting killed in the process of gathering as much food as their hands could carry, packing up their cars and going absolutely nowhere. People weren't defending themselves, they were staying alive just because, waiting for someone to rescue them. But of course, the help never came.

You didn’t blame them, though. It was just human instinct; running from the bad things, the bad guys, the bad whatever-the-hell that was exactly. All you knew back then was that you had to do something, anything. Running to nowhere was not a choice, so you stayed and helped as many people as you could; all that self-defense training had finally paid off.

But as days went by and food was harder to find, people turned into savage animals killing each other for a bottle of water or an out of date can of beans. Again, there is no good way of dying but being killed by one of your own when the freaking apocalypse is out there, would definitely be one of the worst.

And now, all you could do was run. Run even deeper into the woods, with only the moonlight illuminating your path, not even daring to look back at the horde as you felt your knees weakening with every passing second. The panting breaths soon turned into a scream for help, a scream you were sure no one was going to hear.

Tripping over a rock was the next thing that happened reassuring you now, once and for all, the end of you was definitely near.

The walkers came towards you as you crawled your way behind a tree since running was no longer an option, your legs had finally given up. With a gun in hand and not enough bullets to kill them all, you placed it fearlessly against your skull. Pulling the trigger seemed the smartest choice. The cold metal sent shivers down your spine as you prepared yourself for the hit and took your last breath.

BANG!

Nothing happened.

You pulled the trigger once more

Nada.

No ammunition left.

“No, no. Not like this. Not like this” you breathed out in pleas as your last vision on Earth was about to be a horde of zombies eating you alive.

“NO!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, the sound of your voice finally waking you up from the nightmare.

Day 513 since the break and the nightmares didn't seem to go away.

The apocalypse was never supposed to be easy but at this point you'd wish it wouldn't have to be this way. You moved around all the time, not wanting to stay longer than two or three nights in the same place. One thing you had learned on the hard way was, fight the dead and fear the living.

If only reality was just a bad dream as well.

Instinctively, you walked to the window of the temporarily secured house you had chosen to stay for the night, just in case your unexpected pleas for help had woken up something else. But luckily, everything was quiet.

Awfully quiet.

Your job was simple: stay alive. Every now and then you made runs to the city for food and supplies since towns near the area had already been emptied. But it was getting harder each day, you knew sooner or later you would have to leave this place you knew like the palm of your hand and move to another area.

But honestly, the thought of running into people scared you, a whole lot more than a horde eating you alive in the woods. And in the last couple of days, that fear only seemed to grow stronger when you noticed a pair of foot prints following your every step.

Determined to find your stalker, and deal with the problem for good, you walked to an open area in the middle of the woods in plain daylight, just putting yourself out there as bait. If it was you what he really wanted, you were sure as hell going to give it to him.

A subtle move made, just a little too fast, was enough to give away his hiding spot and have you placing him right up against a large tree with such technique it was nearly impossible for him to escape. Your grip remained tight as your eyes scanned him, up and down. Male, white, blondish, probably in his thirties with an expression on his face that definitely showed you he wasn't exactly a threat.

He was scared of you.

"I'm not here to hurt you" he explained himself as he struggled to get the words out. "I-I was following you because I wanted to make sure you were a good candidate for our community and you are. You definitely are". Whatever this guy was rambling about sure was worth your empathy so you let him go. His hands immediately finding his neck, taking a deep breath as he continued. "Big strong walls, houses, clean clothes, food and water, whatever you need" he breathed out.

The expression in your eyes said it all and although words couldn't exactly come out as fluently as you would want them to, a smile escaped your lips instead.

"Wow, thank God I didn't kill you".

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Photo by Teddy Kelley for Unsplash