нow тo ѕυrvιve α zoмвιe αpocαlypѕe

[Qiokkabee]

Sounds inetersting. I'll try reading it tomorrow or around this week. I think it will be epicness! :3

[leaving soon]

Can I post? Any way I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE 100 x love it! I'm.... bookmarking it!

[Luae;]

Love it! Look forward to read more!

[city;]

-SQUEEEE!- Oh my goodness ... My writing is liked ... Ok! I'll be starting my next post after I finish a character.

[rustic .]

I will be stalking tracking it! I love your writing!

[city;]

I wake up to screaming. Not the kind that makes you upset at your roommate for leaving on her cheesy horror movie, but the kind that sends you into a dream of evil; something along the lines of your worst fears attacking you. The only difference between the cheesy horror and the worst fear is that mine is a reality. My fears attack me every day. I am in a Zombie Apocalypse – there is no way out. It’s Naomi. I can hear the tiny voice, crying out in the wide and open room. It echoes.

“Shh … I’m here. I’m here,” I hear Avery whisper. No intelligible response from Naomi except crying. I roll over onto my side so I can face the two of them. Of course, Wyatt is nowhere to be seen. He’s never around when his sisters need him, unless he’s prepared to beat somebody up. I really don’t blame him, except the fact that his sisters are his family. He can’t pretend to be Elias and Evans’ brother when his real flesh and blood is here suffering.

Avery sees me watching the two of them, and jerks her finger a little. Without another word, I slither out of the sleeping bag and onto Naomi’s cot, wrapping overly long arms around the two of them. I feel the little girl’s hand slip into mine as I lay my head on her shoulder.
“Nomi, lovely,” I whisper, knowing she loves my pet-name for her. “Do you want a snack?” The best way to keep the younger ones [and yes, the older ones too] is through their stomach. Especially Naomi.

“Y-y-yes please,” she says quietly, pulling away from her sister and me. I look at Avery and find her gaze on mine. I’m still not used to this observant girl. When we were in school, it was me that needed the extra help. It was me who had to learn how to navigate the rough waters of high school. My best friend was always loved – always desired. Whether they wanted to be her or date her, Avery was always their first choice. Seriously, the only time I ever got a date was when the guy wanted her. I was just – shall we put it this way – a silly little puddle that needed to be jumped over, right after being stepped on. It sucked.

Naomi takes the red rain coat that’s two sizes too big, and pulls it across her back. I almost don’t notice that she slipped her little knife into an inside pocket. To this day, I’m amazed how well the six year old who still believes in unicorns, the tooth fairy, and Santa Claus faired. She’s been through an ordeal, putting up with the tortures of our world. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be to grow up in this. At least I had a somewhat normal childhood, instead of being forced to kill these monsters left and right.

I follow Naomi out of the room, only stopping to pull my shoes on without socks, and give Avery’s hand a quick, comforting squeeze. She smiles gratefully before I leave the room, and close the door to let her rest. We take it upon ourselves to watch out for the little one, because we can’t exactly rely on the boys to pick up our slack. None of us can afford to let ourselves just drop our responsibilities, or we’ll end up dead.

Nomi beats me down to our kitchen. Our pantry door is open, and inside I hear little rusting noises. At first I think it's a rat or something of the same family in my groggy state, but a moment later – when my haze clears – I understand it's our little one. "Naomi," I laugh. "What are you doing in there?" A small and bedraggled head of hair pops out from behind the closet.

"Uuh, I'm finding a snack," she says, placing a bony hand on her hip as she pulls herself away from the pantry. "Remember?" I am about to respond when I see her eyes flip past me to something off to my right. “Wyatt!" She cries, and flings herself past me at the figure. I turn around to see her older brother leaning against the door, a smile etching his broad features.

"Here, Falyn," he says quietly, shrugging the pack off his shoulders before handing it to me. My fingers close around the nylon straps, surprisingly nimbly [because I’m naturally a klutz] opening the pack.

"Quite a bit today. How long have you been out?" I ask, looking back at Wyatt. He ignores me for a second, pretending to be totally intrigued by Naomi’s story about her nightmare.

Good. At least he’s paying attention to her.

"A few hours," a different voice says behind me. I look over my shoulder to see Elias and Evan side-by-side, holding identically full backpacks. My eyes narrow.

"How did you plan on getting back inside?" Of course. The first thing that comes to my mind is how they get back. Not how well their trip went. Not how many the killed. How they get inside. Stupid me.

"Avery," Two says simply, plopping the bag down on the lone table we salvaged.

"Oh," I say tersely. Of course it was Avery. He's always liked her better anyways. I don't understand why it bothers me so much. Is it because I want to be our leader, and for once not my best friend? She had it all in school. The guys trailing after her, the friends begging for her attention. People lining up to just touch her flawless skin. Is it so bad I want a turn? Of course it is. We're talking about perfect Avery. But before didn't make me love her any less, so why should it now. Hideous Fal shouldn't have a single issue, should she?

"Yes, Avery," he says with an exhausted sigh, unzipping the bag. "Here, catch." Elias tosses a small can over his shoulder at me. Clumsily, I catch it on the tips of my fingers. Again. Me and my reactions. We’re all lucky I didn’t drop the thing.

"Little bit of a warning might work better," I say, keeping my tone casual.

"Nope. I like to keep you on your toes."

I grin to myself as I examine the label of the container he threw at me. "Oh my god, Elias! You got peaches? Where did you find these?"

"Found 'em in a little mart about a mile away. Had your name written all over them. There's three more. We figured you'd want them." He pulls out the rest of the cans from the black pack, and slides them across the table to me, this time giving me somewhat of a warning so I can stop them with my forearm. "Thanks," I say brightly, appreciative of the gesture.

Evan chuckles. I shoot a look at him that sends him unpacking. "What else did you three find?"

"Check the bag I filled," Wyatt says between bits of Naomi's one sided conversation with him. I grab his pack by the arm strap, and plunk it onto the crescent table excitedly. The bag is already unzipped, so I just plunge my hand in and start to pull stuff out. A few cans that we find often. A little bit of kitchen accessories, like knives and a can opener. Ok enough for weaponry and such. Toiletries I haven't seen in six months.

"We hit a hoarder’s house," Elias says, grinning ear to ear. Hoarders are the nickname we gave people who just hid everything they could from the world in attempt to survive an apocalypse or just because they were selfish. They had some of the best goods, and were a great source of supplies if we could find them.

"You're kidding.”

"No. We got lucky.”

“I see that.”

Elias chuckles. Both of us turn our heads to Naomi. I sigh quietly. I see Elias from the corner of my eye turn to look at me.

“Something’s up. What happened to you?

There it is. The concern that makes me proud to have him with us. He’s not mindless like the Undead.

I look over my shoulder at the preoccupied girl, before averting my attention back to the bags to start sifting through them. "Naomi had another nightmare," I say quietly. A frown spreads across both our faces. "I don't know details, but I think we all know where it came from."

"I see," he mutters darkly.

I look at Evan out of the corner of my eye, feeling sorry for him. He had the worst of our stories. I remember when we found him – the tears, blood and dirt caked all over his face. The torn and bloodied shirt. Missing a shoe. His mother was the first to be attacked. Once upon a time, Evan lived in Salt Lake City, Utah with his mom and loving father. At times, he would break down, sobbing uncontrollably, because of the horrors he had witnessed. As of now, we still don’t know the full story. Just that her husband worked in a first response team for any prison riots at the facility in Tooele County. And … Evan’s father was attacked. A year into the apocalypse, and we still mourn the billions of deaths and turns. But generally, we accept the fact that we just have to move on. So far, he hasn’t.

Elias steps forward and takes the bags off the table, easily slinging all three packs, just recently filled with cans over his shoulder. "Well," he says with a grunt. "Best let Naomi sort through these." I nod almost invisibly, looking back at the little girl who dangles from her brother's hip, chattering away. Wyatt always listens patiently to all of her stories -- even the most boring ones, like her legendary one about the shoe and Sesame Street’s Elmo becoming her new husband, making her a princess and them living in a shoe like the widow with a million children.

Wyatt can see Elias coming. He gives Naomi a quick kiss on the forehead before she can finish her story. “Hey!” she protests, reaching for Wyatt’s shirt as he puts her down. “I wasn’t done!” Instead, Wyatt points at Elias.

"Hey, Naomi. I have a job for you."

"You do?" She giggles, bouncing up and down on her toes.

"I do.”.

"What is it? Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellme!" Naomi's hands wring each other out multiple times, as she waits in anticipation. I have a hunch that she knows what's coming. After all, she does love her 'job' we designate her. It gives the girl something to do other than dwell on our situation. I mean, seriously. I would even love that.

Elias smiles, and shows Naomi the three multi-colored canvas bags, stuffed to the brim with goods. "Tada. Work for Nomi!" Naomi throws her arms around Elias’s neck. When she releases him, and flings a bag over her shoulder. The pack is so bulky against her scrawny arms and back, I'm worried she'll topple over. I start forward to steady the girl when Elias touches her arm. "You got that?"

Naomi grins ear to ear. "Yes, ‘Lias. I gots it." He shrugs, but keeps two packs.

"You'd better hurry, sweetie. We have to go find more soon." I look at Elias in surprise. A haul like this should keep us fed for a few days. We don't eat much anymore, anyways, so why do we need more? It's not like we can carry anything else if we had to dart. The little girl dashes to the other end of the room, her gait severely tilted to the right, trying to balance off the pack that rests on her left shoulder. Naomi’s little tutu bounces as she skitters in socked feet across the smooth hardwood floors. This time, the little girl really does topple over. I wince. Elias follows her a little more slowly, but not by much; his legs are longer, after all, and she’s easy to keep up with merely because of her height.

"Ok!" She squeals, dumping the bag on its head. I observe Elias putting the bags down next to Naomi before I beckon for the three to follow me into the hall. I look over my shoulder for the second at Naomi sorting the food with a passion, before grinning to myself and moving to the hall. Evan follows immediately behind me. Then Wyatt a few seconds later. Then Elias.

"Well?" I ask. "Going out again, are we? Why do we need more, you three?" I ask quietly. I'm trying not to be demanding and cruel. I really am. I just need truth.

Wyatt sighs as he looks at me, and I struggle not to blink. "We need to stock up. They're getting harder to kill."

Elias holds up his spear that never leaves his side. "You see any blood?" I take the weapon from his hands and study it. There's no blood, no flesh ... not even a hair to show for his outing.

"No. Why?"

"I killed three with that."

I pass the spear back, eyes wide. "You serious?"

"Deadly."

I roll my eyes at the joke, but don't laugh. It's too serious for that. "What do you think happened?"

Evan stands next to me protectively. Honestly, most of the time, I thought if he could pick one of us to be his sibling, it would be me. He's very clingy. Evan purses his lips. "Well," he starts, dragging on the word. "It could be that they're getting old ..." I bite the inside of my cheek -- something I do to prevent me from laughing -- and look at Wyatt. He's the one I trust next to Elias and Avery. Evan and Naomi are like ... a little brother and sister I need to look out for.

But I'd trust any of them -- even our youngest one -- with my life.

"Thank you, Captain obvious." I pat Evan's head jokingly, and he swats at my arm.

I look towards one of the boarded up windows, and for the millionth time, wish this had never happened. That we could just flat out give up, and our parents would come rushing in, saying we never thought you'd last that long! But that's not reality, and life isn't fair. My gaze drifts back to the guys, and Elias’s weapon. I’ve got to see this first hand before I decide what to do.

"I'm coming with."

"What?" Elias said, his voice implying that he was suprised.

I cross my arms defiantly. "I'm coming with."

"Well ... Who is going to stay behind?" All of our eyes subconsciously train themselves on Evan. The boy looks wildly around at all of us. "Wha- ... oh." He gets it.

Wyatt steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder. "Meh. Let Falyn go this once. Besides, I’m sure my sister needs some help. We have to check the upstairs again, in case any of the dead came back over through our tunnel system." I look gratefully at Wyatt. Nice smooth talking there.

Evan sighs, but grudgingly agrees. He understands I need to see this.

"Well, it's settled then," Elias says. "We leave in ten. Go get ready, Ace."

I nod, and leave the hallway we were standing in. Nothing like a short, depressing and dark hallway to set off your paranoia. Behind me, I hear a door creak open, and listen to heavy footsteps. I immediately guess it is Evan. The steps are heavy, and rather depressed. He did just get told he wasn't allowed to go on a raid. I brush the guilt away. I am our leader. I need to see this to pass the best judgments. They all understand that … I hope.

I wander up to the room us three girls share. It was a room. A real room, with lots of space and hardwood floors; I could remember the first time I had ever gone there. The beige walls, the projector and screen. The smell of soda and tuna fish from the banquet that was long gone. I could remember the white table cloths and the women in their fifties. But all that was gone. The beige was a dark, muddy brown from the years of misuse. The table cloths were in a small heap, most of them torn and cut from when we used them for when we needed materials for wounds and other oddities. The once cleaned and bright windows were either boarded up because of shattered windows, or boarded up for reinforcement. We stopped trusting glass after our first safe house. The tables we found were long gone, along with most of the wooden floor. To stay warm in the winter, you needed firewood, right?

There were other things there, too – like the room divider – that was there when we first cleaned the place out. The long, honey colored wooden pillars supported the dusty roof that had already started to crack. I had never realized how much effort it took to keep somewhere in running condition. What had once smelled of fresh paint, orange surface cleaner rank of mold, dried blood, and smoke. Our emergency passageway that could be disconnected from the opposing side was dusty and unused. We had stayed here the longest. Elias, Wyatt and Evan had spent the longest time fortifying the place, keeping it secure and defending our home for a while.

Wait. I called it our home. But I could see why. I remembered reading a quote once before the internet went down about home, and that it’s where your family is. My family is always with me, so anywhere I go is home, right? My family is those who struggle with me, fighting the pain, the fear, and the nightmares together. We keep each other strong, so that makes us a family, right?

If we aren’t, then I don’t know what is.

We get used to it though. I stumble through the doorway, tripping over a little bit of disintegrated wood. A foul word escapes me before I can check over my shoulder for little Nomi. Lucky for me – she’s not there, but I really don’t think it matters anymore. I see Avery sitting on a windowsill across the room, snickering at my klutziness.

“Well … something didn’t change.” Before all this, I was a naturally clumsy. Always tripping over my own two feet. I’ve gotten better, because if I didn’t, I’d die, but sometimes I do slip up.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I like to reminisce. You know?”

“Yeah,” Avery says. “I know.” I laugh gently, and walk over to my sleeping bag. “Where are you going?” she asks.

“I’m going out scavenging.”

“Didn’t they just come back from that?”

“Yeah,” I sigh. “They did. Got a lot of good food anyway, but we’re trying to stock up, I guess. Elias’s plan,” I add. Avery nods.

“I see.” She has always understood my frustration with Elias’s spontaneous nature. She gets it. Better yet, she gets me and my mixed up mind.

“Yeah … I’ll be back soon.” I dig through my bags for something suitable for our little outing. It’s bitter cold, and windy. I’ll need something warm. My bag yields about two outfits for every season. I try to alternate them because of scent issues, but it is really hard to keep clean when we have an apocalypse going. If I’m lucky, I might get a little bit of clothing while we’re out today.

“Bring me something special,” she says quietly.

“I will,” I say, pulling out a pair of my warmest jeans [which happen to be skinny ones …], and a long sleeved shirt. Without any extra warning, I strip my dirty pajama-like clothes, and change. I would be a little more cautious if any of the guys were in the room, but we’ve all dressed some pretty weird, and awkwardly placed wounds on each other, so I stopped caring a long time ago. She doesn’t watch, though. Instead, Avery crouches next to my bags, and starts to dig through them. Eventually, she pulls out my dark, leather jacket. It’s close to my prized possession. I yank my jeans up to my waist, and bend down for the hoodie I was wearing earlier. Oh, god. That thing had been through everything with me. I swear, it’s more important sentimentally than actual use, that jacket.

“Wait,” she says quietly. I look down at her, head tilted to the right just a little. She flips open my internal breast pocket, and drops something in there. “Now, don’t open it until you get out there. You will love me later.” I raise an eyebrow, but don’t question her. I pull the jacket from her fingers, and slip it on, zipping the zipper up to my collarbones. Quickly, I reach down for a belt that she and I use according to who needs it the most. The other one just uses a rope or something, or they just don’t need one. Avery reaches up to where I’m standing, and pulls the hair tie from my messy braid she did up for me a few days ago as I pull the little plastic thing through the loops. I know why she’s undoing the braid, and I would have been an idiot to go out into the cold without it undone. It’ll keep my neck somewhat warm. You’d be surprised on how much your hair can grow in a year. Mine was naturally longer before this entire thing, and now it’s about another foot added on to that. I need scissors this spring.

“Perfect,” Avery says quietly. “Now, go kill something.” I smile, and reach behind her for my broom-spear, which has lasted me since this past June. My first pole broke after I was shoved into the famous bronze bull, but that’s a story for another time.

“I will. Don’t worry. I’ll have Elias and Wyatt there.” Avery frowns for a second, and I stand up straight.

“What about Evan?”

“They convinced him to stay behind and check the rest of the … uh … buildings,” I say.

Avery shrugs lightly. “Ok. So long as he doesn’t bother me. I think you know what I mean …” I stifle a snicker, and turn around to look at the dark and murky window. “Bye, Ave.”

“Bye, Fally. I’ll see you soon, ok?”

“You make it sound like I’m going to die.” Avery giggles. I shrug, but don’t laugh. It could happen, but I wouldn’t like it. Death isn’t exactly a walk in the park. Avery stands, putting her arm on my shoulder.

“You know, if you don’t come back, I may just have to track you down.”

I smile faintly. “I know.”

Without another word, I feel the pressure of her arm leave my shoulder. It makes me miss the comfort of family – especially my mother and brother, Jason. My dad, though? He was a Marine. Our family had always been in the United States Marine Corps. My mother’s side and my father’s. Mom would have joined up if Dad hadn’t first – somebody had to take care of my brother and me – plus her heart problems. That turned her away instantly. It made me remember her. The way she smelled. The way she was always there.

I’d better stop remembering her soon, or I’m going to start crying like a lunatic.

I stepped out of our room, and down to the fire escape whose warning had been meaningless from the first time I had ever stepped foot in our building. Down the poorly lit staircase I go, my nose rejecting the dust and bitter smell. I breathe deeply when I leave the grasp of its rotted musky smell. I swear I could tolerate over “Axed” boy more than I could take that stairwell, and I’m sure Axe is worse by most girls’ tastes.

I look around our headquarters – the place we spend most of our time in. Well, Avery, Naomi and myself anyways. Evan, Wyatt and Elias don’t because they’re usually out scavenging for our food and other necessities. For now, it doesn’t matter. They’re here today. I see their heads bent together around a small, semi-circle table, eating canned food like soup. A can of my peaches are sitting open on the blue glass-top. Around me, all the old bright yellow, green, and white glass is gone; all swept into a pile in the corner. I see the two girls playing on the pale brown floor with a few scraggly dolls I had found when I went out on one of my rare scavenges. My arms are crossed when Nomi, the one who is facing me, looks up and waves. I smile at her and Avery who has swiveled to see who the mysterious figure that deserved a wave was.

My gaze drifts to the guys; table, where I’m beckoned by Wyatt. Curiously, I cross the room, taking one of the open seats next to Evan. The three of them have grave, nearly sad looks etched in their faces. “We’ve found more people,” Wyatt says quietly.

My jaw physically drops. “Living people? You’re joking. When!?”

“When we went out. We figured you would want the news right before we went out,” Elias replied.

The three of them shake their heads. My hand goes to my hair, clenching when I have a fistful. “Holy …”

“Yeah,” Wyatt says. I spin around in my chair, taking in the rest of the room. All of it was everything. Worth everything in the world before this hit. Our protection could serve more humans than just us.
“But there’s a problem,” I hear Elias say. Uh oh. I turn back to face them nervously, my eyes only somewhat registering their faces. “They’re Raiders.”

I frown. “What’s the big deal? I mean, we could join forces and like … kick all the Undead’s butts!”

Elias’s hand went to his hair. “I figured you’d say that.”

I look curiously at the boy. “What do you mean ‘you figured I’d say that’?”

“Ok … here’s the thing … They’re not … aaah …”

“Spit it out,” I snap.

Elias shoots a quick glare. “They’re not … people friendly. You fight to the death to get in, and if you aren’t a raider … well … they kill you.”

Well. There went my idea. I glance down at little Nomi. Her bright red rain coat. The pale brown eyes I’ve learned to adore. Her pink tutu and purple shirt depicting a unicorn. The mismatched bunny slippers. Then I look to her sister – my best friend. No. They can’t fight. They wouldn’t win. Not a chance. I couldn’t let that happen to them. I wouldn’t. Their death would be my ruin. I would personally jump off a building, and try to die if I was forced to kill or watch them be killed. “No,” I say, anger surely pressing itself through my voice. “We are not going.

It was then that a sweaty hand clenched my shoulder. “Falyn, listen to yourself,” Evan says, his voice sweet. He’s acting like I’m a small child. As if.

I swat his hand away. “No, Evan,” I hiss. “You listen to me. We are no-“

“Falyn!” Evan shouts. “We are, and you can’t stop us!”

I lean away from him. Evan doesn’t yell. That isn’t him. That’s not how he works … is it? I’m not used to this. It stings for a few seconds, stunning me into silence. But that doesn’t last for long. It hardly ever does. Briskly, I turn to look at Wyatt and Elias in turn. “Do you feel the same?” Wyatt refuses to meet my eyes, and instead fiddles with a stray string on his faded red shirt. Elias purses his lips, not responding, but Evan leans forward, the leather of his jacket noticeably squeaking as it slid across the table.

“Yes, we do.”

“Then, I’m not going. You boys take more blood on your hands. The three of us girls aren’t going.”

“Uuh .. that’s the thing .. we’re taking them with.”

“Oh, not a chance,” I retorted, ready to punch something. They were not risking the lives of the other two girls. My hands clench around my jacket sleeves.

“Uh, yes a chance. Falyn, please, just listen to me for a second.” Evan’s eyes plead with me.

“Fine,” I snipped. “Second’s over.” Evan gives me a dirty look.

“Ok. Ready to behave civily?”

“Ready to act civily?”

“Falyn.”

“Evan.”

Evan sighs, clearly agitated by my antics. Good. I sure hope so. I lean forward to mimic his position, my arms crossed in front of my chest, elbows on the table. “I’m listening,” I say. He had better have a fantastic argument that could convince the President of his idea, because I’m already one hundred percent against it.

“Look, Falyn. Are you done acting like a little princess? News flash; you’re not. You’re our leader, because we allow it. We let you sit up on your high horse so we can see you keep your sanity. How else would we have made it this far? You’re just a manipulative little child, who wants her way. You get that?” Evan snaps. “Get your priorities straight. We have a family. Take care of us for once.”

That stung. Worse than him shouting at me. But I don’t stay quiet for long. My palm slams down on the table. That got their attention. “You know what, Evan?” I growl, pushing my face within inches of his.

“What?”

“Maybe I am a princess. Maybe I do sit on my high horse. But at least I’m not a murderer.” I hit him where I know it hurts the most. My jaw clenches, and my fists tighten their grip. “At least my kills are to keep us safe.” He blanches.

“Falyn,” Wyatt starts.

“Don’t. Just don’t,” I say, my eyes clouding over with those useless things we call tears. I stand up abruptly; towering over the boy I would have once called brother. “Thank you, Evan. You’ve really cleared things up.” With that, I storm towards the exit, shoving a log out of my way with my foot, sending it skittering into a pile of glass. I hear the satisfying tinkle, and underneath that, little thumps trailing behind me. Arms wrap around my waist.

“Fally,” Naomi whimpers. “Where you going? Don’t be mad. You said being mad is bad. Can I come with you?” Naomi stutters with how fast she’s trying to get the words out of her system. I can’t bear to try and explain. That she would die. I just can’t. I pry her arms away from my midriff, ascending the staircase without her. Before I get too far, I hear her little voice saying, “Ave-y! Why won’t Fally talk to me?”

It’s too much in too little time. I cry silently, just letting the tears fall, before I push open the door to the room I was in just a few minutes before. I hear a few shouts down stairs, and a small voice crying. I for sure can’t make out the exact words, but I do know the boys and Avery are fighting. Suddenly, I feel ridiculous. What did I do? Why did I have to act that way? Was I really a princess who acted like she had one of those ‘high horses’? Was I that bad? Apparently so.

Without warning, I hear a loud roar of a familiar voice. Wyatt, I think. I don’t know what he said, but apparently they’re all listening, because all goes quiet. A string of curse words escapes me as I realize something’s going to happen a moment too late. I hear footsteps coming up the stairwell. Furiously, I look around. I need something to block the door, because I’m leaving. I’m not going to stay and listen to them plotting our demise. I’m going to try and find a way to get into the Raider’s camp, and possibly find a way to get at least Naomi and Avery in safely. The rest could just do it the old fashioned way. It was their idea anyway.

I flip down a latch that was there for this very reason; protecting against humanoid forces. Keeping us safe if we were in here. Just in time too. I hear a fist pounding on the door. “Hey,” Elias says. “will you let me in?”

“No,” I sigh. “I’m leaving.” I dart over to my cot, swinging my backpack onto the covers.

“What? Why?”

I snort. “Seriously! Why?” Elias pleads.

“Because I’m not going to stick around for you three to kill Ave, Nomi and me.” I stuff my cans of peaches into my dark brown back pack. Next in is my water purifiers [I have two], and an extra pair of clothes.

“Who said that was ever going to happen?”

“Uh, you kind of suggested it when you mentioned joining a camp that makes you fight to the death. What if Naomi doesn’t win? What then? Did you even think if Avery dies?” Well … that should get him thinking. I know he’s just in love with her. He can love my derrière. How ‘bout that?

“Oh,” Elias whispers.

“Yeah. That’s things that a leader thinks about! You get what I mean? I’m leaving, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Falyn! Seriously! Can’t we talk?”

“No. Evan has already proved you don’t know how!”

“Will you stop acting like a girl!?”

“ELIAS!” I roar. “I AM A GIRL!”

I hear a loud thump, and assume that it was him falling down the stairs or something. I would have done the same – falling, I mean. In all my time that I’ve been with them, never once have I raised my voice. It almost makes me worry about what I’m actually doing. Is this idea totally worthless? Am I really not doing the right thing? I mean, I’ve never scared them like that …. What’s happening to me?

I start towards the door, worriedly. As soon as my ear touches the cold wood, I hear footsteps getting quieter and quieter. And further away. I’m in trouble … I nearly shout down the hallway for Elias to come back, because I know him. I lashed out. I made that mistake. He no longer trusts me. I’m no longer welcome here. Instead of sitting and mourning over my situation, I dash over to my little pile of items that I need to take with me. As quickly as I could, and without looking at what I’m doing, my belongings disappear into my bag. It doesn’t take me long, because of how little I own. I want to sit and think, and apologize to everybody. To apologize to Naomi for ignoring her. To apologize to Evan for being closed minded. To Elias for yelling. To Avery for not keeping her safe.

I want to hurt somebody all at the same time. I want to swing, and feel the satisfying crunch as my hand connects with flesh. To hurt someone. And not feel that psychological pain after wards.

If I ever get a hold of those Raiders, they’re dead.

Instantly.

I want to sit and think, but I can’t. Downstairs, I can already hear the voices getting louder and closer to the door. Pretty soon, they’re going to break through my fortifications. Then, it’ll be a fight between us to try and get me to agree that joining the Raiders, and that killing Ave and Nomi is okay. Not a chance. Well … maybe when I roll over in my grave.

It’s not long before I’m ready to go out the window. I look down at the ground, and to the small pile of white cloth. The first piece of cloth that is bigger than my fist goes into my backpack, and another one goes around my knuckles. Don’t want to get cut by glass, now, do I?

I swing at the window. A tinkling noise echoes as the glass falls to the ground. It’s the only way to get out to our bridge-like contraption that links our two buildings together. It was then that I heard a pounding against the door.

“Falyn!” Evan yells. “Get out here now!”

“Nope,” I yell back, brushing tiny shards of glass off of my arm. “I don’t want to.” As quickly as I could without cutting myself, I slip out of the window, and onto the scaffold – like the ones used for washing windows – that’s fastened to the building. This is our escape. On one end of the metal platform is attached securely to a rope – that’s connected to the building – while the opposite end is hooked to another rope that’s knotted and looped around a fire escape railing. It’s perfectly safe (well, as safe as it gets), and I’ve personally tested it a few times, to see how the other building looks. Actually, I clean over in the other building regularly. Keeping it healthy and the like for Naomi, who has a very mild case of Asthma. The way you get across is by pulling on a rope that leads to the opposite side, like a pulley system.

“Stop acting like a child!”

“Technically, I’m still a child.” Let’s see how he takes that one.

I am still seventeen. Most wouldn’t believe that the only ones left in this world are teenagers, but there is a highly logical explanation; all of our parents wanted to protect us, so they fought over food and the like at grocery stores while we stayed home and defended the fort. But the thing with New York and Zombies is that the Zombies can’t climb stairwells. So, if you live on the bottom story, and can’t protect your place, you’re pretty much dead. My family lived on the top story of an apartment building close to the NYSE, actually, so when we heard that there was a fort being set up, and all you had to do was show that you were physically fit and uninfected, they would let you in to help out. It lasted about a year, actually, until somebody got sick, and killed most of the adults along with a few of the kids … The grown-ups killed each other off until there were only a few left. Then those few kind of took it upon themselves to take care of us teenagers and younger kids. Then they were killed, and there were six. Us six.

“I don’t care!” Evan screeches.

“Yes you do!” I call back in a singsong voice.

“No, I really don’t!”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Oh, I don’t think you do.”

“Well, it really doesn’t matter now, does it, Evan?”

He pauses, and then replies with, “What? What do you mean?”

“Well … since I’m standing out on the scaffolding, I don’t think it matters.”

“WHAT?!”

I cover my hand with my mouth to prevent my laughter – he sounds so ridiculous when he’s upset (and going through puberty) – and call back, “Yes, Evan. I’m leaving. Enjoy life without me!”

The next thing I hear is loud and somewhat obnoxious thumping. I poke my head back in, and see the door almost bouncing occasionally. Well, time to go! I situate myself on my rear end, refusing to look down. Heights have never been a problem for me, unless I’m actually on a precarious contraption, two stories above the asphalt. My pack is in between my knees, and my hands wrapped around the rope, but I can’t seem to pull. “Do I really want to do this,” is all that goes through my mind. What if it’s the end of me?