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Have you ever had that feeling that you were very lucky and thus you shouldn’t feel down? Or depressed?
Have you ever wondered why things had turned that way for you and not for the others?
Have you ever wondered… Why you?
I’ve always considered myself lucky: I’ve got functional legs and arms, the head is just fine too. I’m an average person with an average life. But then again, what is average? How can we define average today? The world has changed. Or, better say, it is totally fucked up now... Before that day, the world was already a crazy place: famines, wars, climate changes, wild fires, inundations, racism, you call it… Every time I checked on my phone, like any other teenager, I would get news like that amongst the frivolous and superficial ones. The polar bears were dying just aside the perfect body summer or latest Hollywood scandal… Things felt so far away. Because of course you knew they existed, but humans are incredible creatures for whom the reality of their realm only goes as far as their senses. And I was no exception: I knew horrors could happen at the exact same time at the other side of the world, but I was more focus on my school life. Exams, teenagers, music, etc. Call me what you want, I don’t really care. Never have.
I was the leave-me-alone kind of teenager. Not alone, because humans are social animals that need to be surrounded, but I was literally the grumpy one of the group, secretive and not really talkative. My peers knew better than to ask me my opinion on many topics. They usually came to me about video games or music. I didn’t really care about anything else to be honest. Thinking about future wasn’t really my thing: it even sometimes triggered panic attacks. I wanted to be a musician. A pop star. But my music teacher wasn’t really the supportive type, telling me I needed to be realistic, that really few people could turn their passion into a carrier and that I should think about a job that would put food on the table and allow me to pay my bills and perhaps have a decent life. Talk about a dream-killer.
Fortunately for me, I guess, stubbornness is also one of my traits, so I kept practicing. Just on my own. I was stricter with myself than the teacher anyway. I had what you could call a normal life in a developed country: I had education, I could eat my fill, my body was fully-functional and I had my two parents. Like I said: I was a lucky one. But despite everything, I wasn’t happy. Never understood it. Could it be depression? I heard that it was a rich country issue. Maybe I was… Never really admitted it (since I considered myself lucky) and literally told a therapist to fuck off after a few sessions when I’d decided to go just to see how it worked. Turned out talking alone when someone else was in the room wasn’t exactly my thing.
People sometimes saw me like a petulant child, an arrogant teen or a brat. I guess it was deserved, but then again I didn’t really cared. I had nothing special to me, except for music. Or at least I believed that. Music can help you in so many ways, express things so complex that words aren’t enough to say… But music wasn’t exactly helpful the day everything went sideways…
I remember that day very clearly. It was during the lockdown. There had been a breach in a virology laboratory at the other side of the planet. The news informed us that a rare disease was spreading worldwide, at an incredible speed. The incident had occurred in October and there was a complete lockdown in March. None of my generation had ever witnessed anything like that. We were expected to stay at home all the time, only allowed to go out for groceries. At first, I thought it was a bit extreme but since I was a pretty lonely guy anyway, I simply thanked my alone time and enjoyed my books and music. I never expected it would last so long. Like everyone else, I read about the speculations, the conspiracy theories, and everything. The world was getting nuts about it: we were not allowed to go out, like I said, or only for groceries and only if you wore a facial mask. Chirurgical ones. The numbers of deaths around the globe was exponential and multiplied every day: at first, the corpses were burnt to avoid any more proliferation, but after a couple of months, it wasn’t an option anymore. The world had lost millions of lives.
And that is where it all begun in reality. At first, it was a few weird stories on internet: people that appeared to be dead and then got up and attacked other people, sheds where corpses had been stocked that were found empty... When I read about it, I didn’t really pay attention: for me, people were bored of this drastic lockdown and were just trying to make a name for themselves or to kill the time. But soon, the news relayed the information: deads would come back to life, like nightmares’ creatures incapable of interactions apart for attacking the livings like blood-seeking zombies. A bite and it would turn you into one of them in an hour time. It was madness all around the globe.
We hadn’t heard much on the local news so my mother wasn’t totally hysterical about it but she would be worried every time my father went to the supermarket for food. She wanted to go along but the rules of the lockdown were pretty strict: only one person per household. One day, my father came back really late and my mother was worried sick. It appeared that he had fallen and twisted his ankle. He was in pain every single time he put the foot on the ground. I wasn’t really a role model child, but I wasn’t a bastard either: I decided I would go fetch the food. There was no way I would let my mother go by herself. Not that she couldn’t do it, but I wouldn’t let her anyway. She was mortified but since the local news didn’t mention any weird things happening nearby, she agreed to let me go. I took my backpack, my phone, my earphones and my wallet. I remember thinking that the day wasn’t that cold so I only took my sweater, a cap and a black fabric mask. Always thought they were more comfortable than the blue plastic ones. I told both of them I’d be back in an hour or two, depending on the crowd in the supermarket.
Little I knew it was the last time that I would see them. I remember my father smiling apologetically and thanking me for doing it; my mother had smiled too and told me to take care and come back right after I fetched food. I left rolling my eyes… If I had known back then... I’d have told them that I loved them and not to worry about me. No, I would have never left that day if I had known. But I didn’t and went without looking back. It felt a bit unrealistic being outside with everyone wearing a mask. People looked at each other as if they could get the disease just by walking less than 5 metres away… I thought the world was crazy and wondered how it would be in the next few months. I was at the supermarket when it occurred. My backpack was half full when I heard the screams. The noise. It was utter confusion and yet, I knew. I knew what was happening. Zombies had arrived in the supermarket by the subway station. It seemed like a fucking horror movie... I mean, what were the odds? In the middle of the confusion, I remember I ran for the employees doors. The big ones that give on the storages and then outside. I couldn’t even believe that so many zombies had arrived there without being noticed earlier and I thought I was dead when I spotted the exit was full of them, attacking every single person trying to get out. The only thing that came up to my mind was to climb the storage shelves and get as high as I could. It was a big supermarket so the storage was an entire shed. I got myself at least at 10 metres up and hid between huge cardboard boxes. And I waited.
I remember how scared I was, trembling like an over frightened squirrel. I forced myself looking down and watched the zombies eating people alive... Not that I wanted to witness that, but a small voice in my head kept telling me that not looking wouldn’t making it not happening, and in any circumstances should I leave intentionally a blind spot. What if those zombies were like those in World War Z? If they were, I was dead. Those were the thoughts I had in my head then. I remember hastily turning off my phone so it wouldn’t ring. Thankfully, they were more like The Walking Dead’s ones, but they were awfully numerous anyway. I decided to stay there, looking for a safe exit… I waited there two entire days. Trapped on that shelf.
I wonder what my parents thought that day. I didn’t dare to turn my phone back on because it would be noisy. Did they even hear of this or did the zombie outbreak happen everywhere at the same time? I don’t know... If they knew, I’m sure my mother cried. She was emotional. I wonder if the zombies got them in our apartment... Or if they got killed while trying to find me, trying to reach that supermarket... My father surely couldn’t run with that ankle of his. Did they die because of me? I have no idea... I prefer to think the answer is no but... Part of me knows that it’s not true. Or perhaps it is my depressed one talking.
Hopefully for me, the boxes on my shelf were full of food. I made my best to open them without too much noise and ate at my fill. I spotted bottles of water on the self just under mine, so I took two 50cl bottle in my backpack. I tried to get back home but zombies were everywhere, I had to hide more often than I could walk, but eventually I got there. I couldn’t get inside though: the building seemed vomiting zombies... I wonder sometimes if I should have tried harder. Were they upstairs? Waiting for me? Waiting for help? I wonder if my dad had been killed trying to protect my mom… And if my mom had locked herself in the toilets, crying and waiting for a help that never came… I wonder… I couldn’t find shelter in this area and had to move. Everybody seemed to have left on a hurry: in two days’ time, what had been a normal neighbourhood looked now like an abandoned movie studio from The Walking Dead series with blood and human leftovers, corpses jolting on the ground, too damaged to walk, and the ever growling and snarling.
My heart was pounding all the time. I remember thinking that it was so loud it would call the zombies like a hypnotic lullaby. Hopefully it wasn’t the case. I was not the athletic type but music had developed my hearing. I could walk or make little runs without making too much noise. I heard someone calling for help, a woman’s voice. I thought she was a fool for making such a ruckus and then heard the hesitating footsteps, the snarling. I never thought I was courageous or anything… But I never thought I was a coward either. My blood iced with the sound and the only thing I could think of was to get into a car nearby. I saw them. The zombies. Arriving slowly and at the same time it felt like they were so quick. The panic, I imagine. I was trapped in that car, with zombies passing on each side, oblivious to my presence. I had grabbed my face with my two trembling hands, trying to muffle every single little sound that could betray me. I was so afraid. Trembling so much I wondered if the car might tremble because of me and be my end. That’s when I saw her: the woman I had heard. She passed in front of me, perhaps 20 metres or something, she held a baby in her arms. The look on her face was pure terror. I think I’ll never forget that scene… It was like a slow motion and yet it happened so fast. In the middle of the street, she got surrounded by them. Terrified and crying. I remember hearing her shriek as they began feasting on her and how I clasped my hands on my ears. I didn’t want to watch this, but at the same time I didn’t dare to close my eyes and risk any blood-eater coming at me without me seeing it. I was silently crying all along...
I don’t know how long I stayed in that car. But it was many hours. The time for me to process what I just witnessed without intervening and the time the zombies slowly walked out. When I got out of the car, I knew I had to find somewhere safe, for the night would come quicker than I wanted it to. So I kept walking, all my senses making their best for me to survive this. I had put my mask on to avoid any cough or sneeze because of the dirt: I didn’t want to die because of a stupid sneeze. And after what I saw, I definitely didn’t want to die like this. I ended up getting into a building I knew by sight for I had often walked in front of it, across the street. Offices. I thought that since we were under lockdown before the zombie attack, there would be no one inside. So less chances to have zombies in there. The metal fence wasn’t really hard to climb and inside, I felt slightly safer. I made my way to the concierge room, on the exterior. It was a door at the end of a few stairs in the ground. The door was closed, naturally, so I gave a look by the window that was at ground level: no one inside that 5 or 6 metres square room. The monitors were off, no small light or what so ever... So technically no electricity and no alarm. My heart kept pounding since I didn’t want to attract every single meat-eater of the neighbourhood here. Looking around, I found a sport car covered with a tarpaulin parked on a place out of sight. Better this than my sweater. I took the tarpaulin and used it to break the window of the concierge room. I had seen it many times in movies and hoped it wasn’t just a Hollywood shit. I could break it with my foot without making too much noise. It froze me nonetheless and I stayed still an entire minute, listening to my surroundings. When I was sure there was no danger, I pushed the last remains of glass and slipped inside. Thanks genetics for making me skinny. Inside, I looked for the building keys: I didn’t want to break in savagely since the idea was to have a safe place to sleep. I was baffled to find a small amount of keys: are companies really okay with having an open-all-doors key? I guess I was lucky. Looking around that room, I found an untouched soda can, biscuits and a heavy outdoors jacket. The man must have been huge. I took everything and got into the building, locking every door behind me. I was careful not to make any noise on the shining tiles with my snickers and got on the first floor: interesting offices were never on the ground floor but I wanted a place I could jump off in case of emergency. I visited the place and was more than happy to find a vending machine in what looked like a break room. The machine key was on the concierge’s bunch and I didn’t have to even force it. I put as much as I could in my bag and in my pants pockets and close the machine back. You may think I watched too many movies but I remember thinking that there was nothing more suspicious than an empty unbroken vending machine: if I had to hide for some reason, I didn’t want anyone to know that I was there in the first place. I kept visiting until I found a reasonable office that allowed me to have a good view on the street and that had a blind so no one could see me from outside. Slightly paranoid? I guess I was, but hey, that’s what kept me alive.
In that office, I went through the drawers and found a box of chocolates and a champagne bottle in a small fridge. It was still a bit cold so I guess the electricity hadn’t be out that long. Probably a day or so. I locked myself in that office and got myself comfortable in a corner, using the heavy jacket as a blanket and eating. I didn’t really liked champagne but the slightly tipsy sensation felt good. I didn’t drink enough to minimize my attention, but just enough to get warmer and keep the really dark thoughts at bay. It was the same for the chocolate: enough to have sugar in my body but I wouldn’t risk to be sick. I took the time to organize my bag, putting the unperishable food in the bottom and verifying it wasn’t too heavy so I could run with it if needed.
I stayed three days in there. I didn’t know what to do and the place felt safe enough to stay for a bit. I had food and could clean myself up in the toilets sinks. The hardest was the loneliness... No one to talk to nor to give me advices or strength. I turned my phone back on every night and called my parents but no one picked up. I kept sending texts, saying I was alright and I hoped they were, but had no reply. I would then turn off my phone to save the battery. I cried every night... I kept my bag with me all the time in case I had to flee running. There was no way I’d leave this place without food. It would be a death sentence out there. On the fourth day, I heard people breaking in. It was a small group of people, six or seven. I didn’t know them but they were incredibly noisy. Laughing as they got in the big hall… I hesitated a second in joining them: being alone was harder than I ever thought, but only seeing them a few minutes made me understand that they would put me in more danger. They wouldn’t keep it low, calling to see if there was someone in there, and seemed so triumphant for just having breaking in here. No, I didn’t trust them at all with my survival. So I did what I had planned it this kind of situation: I jumped by the window and ran away.
I didn’t know if I had done the right thing, but I trusted my guts. The sensation of being out in the wild again felt almost overwhelming. I had to watch my back all the time again. I had almost forgotten how exhausting it was... When the zombies’ presence became too much to bear, I just went into a building and hoped for the best. I was tired and frightened. I saw an open door and carefully got inside. It was a small flat, it looked like someone had already been here: the cupboards were open and empty except for a very few things. I stayed alert, listening for any noise. But it was death silent. I took a kitchen knife that had a hood on it (I didn’t like the idea of a ceramic blade because it was fragile but it was the only one I could carry around without risking hurting myself). I closed entrance door since this part of the flat was safe, and resumed my visit. The bathroom and toilets were clear, just as the parents’ bedroom. But when I got into the child’s one, I froze. There it was. Or what had once been a woman stood there, in the middle of the room. Her corpse was standing there, in her ripped off clothes covered in dark dried blood. My gasp must have alerted her because she turned towards me. I will never forget those milky eyes aimed at me, nor the guttural sound she made in her half ripped off face, nor the certainty I had that my time had come. I remember slamming the door and running to the living room. My heart was pounding as I look frantically everywhere for anything that I could use to defend myself. I heard the door opened and turn around to watch that thing coming to me. It all happened really fast. I grabbed the first thing I could grab around me, a guitar, and swung it as hard as I could. It made a hollow wooden sound as it hit her head. She fell under the swing and then, my head went blank and I lashed out. I kept hitting her with the guitar until it broke. When I stopped, her head was no more than a bloody pulp with a smell between rotten and blood. I couldn’t help but vomit.
I was in shock. I cried and trembled as I kept staring at that still corpse. It was my first zombie kill. I’m not proud of it but I totally lost it then: I hyperventilated, almost tore my hair out of my scalp for how hard I grabbed them when I balled on the floor. I couldn’t go on anymore. The idea of having to fight other creatures like that, or that my own mother could have ended like that. It made me sick. I cried and sobbed until I felt empty. After an hour or so I finally sat up, looking at the corpse. I couldn’t bring myself to let it like this… So I used the carpet of the living room and hid her inside. I’m sorry. I still am. Whoever you were... You deserved better.
I couldn’t sleep well that night in that flat. But I was too exhausted to find another place to crash and to stay awake. When I awoke the day after, I didn’t feel better nor rested. My mind was numb and I could hear screams in the distance... Another massacre perhaps. I felt tired… Tired and desperate. I looked up at the ceiling and saw a metal hook... Probably to hang a chandelier of a ceiling light… I wondered if it could support my weight. Hanging myself wasn’t exactly how I’d picture ending my life, but right then, it felt like the more attractive thing I ever wanted. Slowly took the sheets of the bed and tied them together. Would it me enough? What if it wouldn’t support my weight…? I went back in the kitchen and broke the broom. If hanging myself didn’t work, I still could just jump by the window and impale myself on that. Now that I think of it, it seems so crazy. But back then, it was the most sensible thing to do. When I got back in the room, I could still hear the screams in the distance, but I also heard precipitated footsteps. I frowned and went at the window: I saw a young guy with red hair, holding a bar of steel with both his hands, watching as zombies were cornering him.
I don’t really know what happened in my head, but my eyes went to the sheets I had tied up. I grabbed them, attached them at the bed, opened the window and called to get the guy’s attention. Then I tossed the sheets, making kind of a ladder. It wasn’t much but it was all I could do for him. As he wasn’t moving, I lost my nerves:
“Climb up, dumbass! What are you waiting for?! An invitation?!”
It shook him enough to grab the sheets and climb up. I didn’t watch. If he was to fall, I didn’t want to recall his face. But when I saw him at the window, I launched myself forward and helped him up, letting him fall on the ground. Poor guy was in pain, but I couldn’t feel a bit of empathy at that moment, fear howling in me: I held the broken part of the broomstick to his torso and asked if he had been bitten. Nothing really mattered more than that. But I remember wishing with all my heart that he hadn’t been. I wasn’t ready to kill another zombie. Not right then.
That’s how I met Zion. He was slightly older than me. Not much, only a few months but he was already 18. Not that he told me right away: he seemed confused and I lashed out on him, not physically but my words were perhaps worst. He apologized to me and I felt like a total bastard. But before I could find anything to say, he fainted. My fear came back running and I decided to check him for bites: I couldn’t just trust anyone blindly, could I? I found none and felt relieved. I put him in the bed and decided to let him rest. I stayed a bit looking at him. He had a reassuring face. I didn’t know why but I felt like I could trust him. Or perhaps I just needed it so badly. I had wanted to die and then had saved this guy’s life… Somehow, having him with me, unconscious, I felt responsible. I couldn’t just leave him like that. It gave me a reason to stay alive a little bit longer. I went back in the living room and decided to look in all the furniture. I found a few possible useful things but most of all, I found binoculars. It gave me an idea and I left the flat, making sure the door was closed, and I climbed the stairs to the roof. I needed long minutes because I was always stopping to check my surroundings, but when I got there, I had the satisfaction to have a nice view over the city. With the binoculars, I scanned the area and tried to see if I could find a new place to crash. That flat wasn’t safe enough and there wasn’t enough food either.
As I looked around, I saw movements and spotted a group of guys around my age or so. They were running with backpacks, and one of them carried a baseball bat. It wasn’t easy to keep an eye on them with all the buildings but eventually I saw them entering in the high school. The high school… Why not? It was near a lot of shops. There was even a mall not far away. It was worth the try. Since the light of the day was decreasing, I went back to the flat and gave another look at that guy. At that moment, I didn’t know his name, but Zion already gave me the impression that he was trustworthy. I don’t know what gave me that vibe, but I listened to it. He looked exhausted and I supposed he didn’t eat or drink in a long time. So I decided to prepare something with what I could find in the flat, preferring to keep the food in my bag for later: who knew? Perhaps it would be useful to get into the high school. I only found rice... So I had to take a bit from my bag anyway. I took canned fruits and chocolate, put them on a tray with a cup of water and the rice. I ate my share of rice and took the tray to the room. I thought leaving it there and come back into the living room but Zion just woke up as I got into the room. We presented ourselves then. I told him I had to check him. It was better to tell it right away and get done with the awkwardness. I told him I had spotted a high school nearby with people in it and that I’d planned to go there the day after and see if they would take us in. To my surprise, Zion accepted without any second thought.
We went there and, to be honest, I was reassured that Zion was with me. He was taller than me and definitely someone on whom you could trust. A fighter. Me on the other hand, I’d always considered myself lanky. And I saw that judgement too in the others’ eyes, so I had much trouble to keep it low and be friendly… In fact, I felt totally out of place and couldn’t help but being cynical and snarky all the time. I felt as if it was only a question of time before they’d toss me out. Thankfully, Zion was always there to talk me out of it or to tell me that I was being stupid. I guess I got my place there and kept it thanks to him. He was the only one that I trusted entirely. Eventually, I got to know Harry, Ethan, Lawrence, Sue, Judy, Scarlett, Hailey, Mary Caroline (I just kept calling her MC, shorter) and Jay. But even if we became closer, I only felt truly myself around Zion.
We kept bickering about everything and I loved it. I think he liked it too because I wasn’t always the one starting it. I always acted tough because I didn’t want the others to know that I doubted about everything: about myself, about feeling at my place there, about being useful… But every time I doubted, Zion seemed to have a sixth sense to know it and came at me about anything. It reassured me and helped me to get through everything... I couldn’t stand Scarlett though. Always pushing everyone to be at Zion’s side. I rolled my eyes so often I wonder how they didn’t stay stuck. I was getting used to this life without really finding a reason to keep going... Did I mention I thought it might be depression? I don’t know if I am depressive, but it is true that I’ve always had dark thoughts coming, or at least pretty often. I guess our situation didn’t help back then either.
But one night, as we were doing a night patrol in the school, in the auditorium, Zion was extra careful with me because I didn't like huge rooms with blind spots everywhere. He even took me into the projection room so I could calm down. He was always pretty protective with me now that I think about it. But that night, he told me he’d follow me anywhere I’d go, that he owed me his life and that if I didn’t feel at ease there, he would come with me. He wanted me to know that I belonged, no matter what I thought. Somehow, I knew that he meant more than that. I said the only thing that came through my mind, a depressing thing of course: that he would get killed one day because of me. And that was the moment he kissed me. I think I never felt that happy in my entire life. Zion filled the void I had in me, like a long time missing piece. I totally gave in. I wanted him in my life, I wanted to rely on him just like I wanted him to rely on me. Survival didn’t appear so dreadful anymore... We kissed that night and lost our virginity along the way. It did hurt, I won’t lie! But I also discovered a pleasure I had never imagined before.
We slept together in his room every night after that. I insisted on keeping two rooms though, because it was still new to me and I wanted to be able to have my alone time, my place. Zion understood it. He always tried to understand the others’ point of view, I loved it as much as it exasperated me sometimes. We kept in mind that we might die any day, any time, so things weren’t complicated: we didn’t have time for complicated. We just spoke everything out. And it worked remarkably. We had quite a lot of sex. I must admit it: I loved it. It was amazing! I felt alive. Cherished. Loved. We were a team with an unbreakable bond. Or so I thought…
We discovered that there was a Safe Zone. How could we have not known that before? How did I miss it when I used the binoculars on that roof the day I met Zion? For the first time in months, we hoped. We could make it alive. Begin a new life. Finally live without always watching out for zombies at every corner. We decided to go and... I don’t know why but everything fell down right through hell. We had gathered in the auditorium to spend the last night there together. The anthem of the school, Für Elise, had suddenly started resounding so loud. It all took us by surprise, tearing us from our sleep. We weren’t ready. I had just the time to jump into my shoes and put on my sweater and my backpack that I heard windows breaking. Zombies were getting in the school. Zion and I exchanged a glance and ran as fast as we could...
I could never erase that night of my memories. Zombies were coming from everywhere. They were so many. I remember hearing Hailey and Scarlett screaming in pain as a zombie got them and then they disappeared from our view as zombies fed on them. Harry couldn’t let go and tried despite everything to get to them… His screams were next. We ran in the corridors, trying to find an exit but it seemed like the zombies of the entire city had come to us. Für Elise was deafeningly loud. We kept climbing stairs, trying to avoid them. Jay lost balance on the way and before we could help him up, they got his legs. We had to flee. Judy, MC and Sue parted ways with us when we had to avoid another zombie. They were frightened but couldn’t pass it and decided to try their chance and flee through another corridor. We were getting to the roof when suddenly other zombies appeared. It was like a never ending flood. Zion was he one behind, he simply turned around and began to fight with his bar of steel. I called for him, with all my lungs. I never had felt a despair like this. Ethan dragged me on the roof as Zion was commanding him to do so.
I cried and begged. I don’t really remember what I said. I just know I called his name again and again. On the roof, Ethan found the emergency stairs and we began to go down. Or technically, he was dragging me down. I didn’t resist: I already knew it was too late... Then something reverberated along the metal staircase. They were climbing somehow, down there in the darkness. I didn’t really had time to form any sort of thought: I looked at Ethan and suddenly, he grabbed me and tossed me as hard as he could. I screamed and ended up in a tree. The fall was painful and I believe every single part of my body got hurt at that moment. My fall suddenly stopped when my backpack got stuck between two large branches. I lost consciousness then.
When I woke up, I was still hanging in the tree. The sun was just getting up… I must have been unconscious less than an hour. It was all terribly quiet. The school anthem wasn’t resounding anymore. The upper part of my body was numb. I slowly unclipped my bag, holding onto a branch and very slowly, got down the tree. My entire body hurt. My heart hurt. My soul hurt. I let tears ran freely down my cheeks and fled. I didn’t know where I was going but I had to run. I needed to flee what my heart and my mind couldn’t bear to even imagine. I was alone. Totally alone and devastated. I fell many times but kept going. I ran until my lungs and legs gave out, letting me fall on the ground. I lost consciousness again. How did I survived? Well, I guess that’s the part where people consider me lucky: a patrol from the Safe Zone was heading to the school to investigate and they saw me as I fell down. They got me and brought me back with them. I was told afterwards that I was delirious, only making strangled sounds.
I stayed days out of it. And when I woke up... I wished I never had. I was the only one making it to the Safe Zone alive... How could it be? Me above all the others? Many of them deserved to live much more than me. I stayed in a catatonic state for a day. I heard people talking to me but nothing made any sense really. The only thing my mind could process was that I was alone. More alone than I had ever been. I didn’t know how painful to be heartbroken was… I felt it physically. My entire being was like wrecked apart. They were all dead... They are all dead.
I’ve been in Safe Zone for two weeks now. I haven’t spoken to anyone. Didn’t feel the strength to. They assumed I was too much in shock. That I’d lost the ability to speak. I haven’t. But I don’t really feel like talking anymore. What could I possibly say? I just sat in a part of the Safe Zone, at the shadow of a tree, listening to kids playing together. Today is my “day off”. I work in the storage, preparing equipment for the patrols and helping to keep food in order. Apparently, the fact that food wasn’t really appealing to me has convinced them that I could be a good keeper for it. They don’t know my name, but it doesn’t really matter to me. They just call me “the Mute”. Pretty ironic for a musician, right? Today is a nice day despite being in the middle of January. It is almost warm… As if something was actually thinking we had enough shit going our way. I’m just wearing my sweater and it is enough to not feel the cold. A little sound catches my attention and I look sideways… It’s my companion. I like to call him that way. It’s a ginger cat with golden eyes. I think he’s a stray. But he keeps coming at me, every day... I guess he feels sorry for my sorry ass. I called him Zion… Even made a nametag myself and put a collar on him. He didn’t fight it. I guess he hasn’t been a stray all his life. He comes and balls himself comfortably against my thigh.
I gently scratch his little head, making him purr in contempt. I know he has his way with the zombies. He’s fast and agile. I don’t worry about him much. Even if he stays in a part of my mind when I don’t see him around… Don’t leave me, buddy, okay? I couldn’t bear to lose another Zion… The cat simply looks up at me with that smirk. He really is like him. I keep petting him, letting my thoughts run freely… Well, not really freely: they keep running in circles, memories coming back again and again just like today. Always the same... I can’t let go... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to... I even wear a bandage around my neck for nothing... How pathetic is that?
“So you really called that cat Zion?”
I jumped and froze. That voice... I could recognize it amongst thousands. It can’t be. I look up so vividly that my neck almost insults me. It can’t be. In front of me, Zion is standing there with Ethan just behind him. My vision blurs as I look at them. They look like just the same than that day. I get up in a second, screaming their names and my body choses that moment to betray me. Zion catches me and holds me so tight one of my bones might actually crack, but I don’t care. I cry without any fucking shame. They are alive! ALIVE! Ethan is smiling and he gently pats my head.
“I can’t believe it...!” It’s the only thing I can say.
“Me neither.” Zion answers. “When we finally got out of the school after two days being trapped in a classroom, all we found was your backpack. It drove me mad… If it wasn’t for Ethan, I would probably have died stupidly trying to kill every single zombie I found.”
I can’t stop myself from crying. Holding onto him for dear life. I will never let you go again!
“We arrived only an hour ago.” Ethan says. “Someone spotted Zion’s bandage and mentioned it. He said that it looked like The Mute’s. We didn’t know he was speaking of you until he mentioned a cat called Zion.”
“We have so much to catch up...” Zion murmurs to me. “But it can wait. I just wanna hold you for the rest of my life.”
“Never let go of me again.” I plead, half sobbing.
“Never, I promise.” He says, and I believe him.
Never have I ever thought that happiness could be so overwhelming. Almost crushing. It literally pours out my being by my eyes. But I’m glad I am not the only one crying there: Ethan just keeps rubbing his eyes and I just laugh as I see Zion’s face when pulling back to look at him. God I missed him. I missed him so much. I kiss him with everything I have. All my being. All my soul. All my broken heart suddenly brought back to life. I hear murmurs around us… I guess I won’t be “The Mute” anymore. I hear my cat hissing and Ethan’s voice saying:
“Well, it looks more like an Eugene to me.”
And I burst out laughing. It feels good to laugh again. So good. I can’t get enough of his warmth against me, his voice, his everything... Please, don’t ever let me go.
THE END