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It was chaos.
Children cried, whose parents been washed away by ruble, as the parents did to their own kids. The dead washed up eating whoever crossed their path. The place was a battlefield, and only those lucky enough got water.
Nick crouched behind some drywall
He gotten off the bridge with Daniel, but in the crowd of people, he'd lost him.
He was supposed to be dead, crushed by the dam, or drown.
Not with adrenaline pumping through his veins, Nick ran along the wall that still stood. Rotters were everywhere, and the only way to tell living from the dead from the weapons in their hands.
A girl with long, greasy black hair limped toward Nick. She had a square face, her eyes, and cheeks sunk in so far, that it was easy to tell she died a while ago. She growled, her voice gurgled with blood. Nick glanced down to her through, that’d been slit open, blood askew all over her purple shirt.
Nick had no weapons, not a gun, or knife. Nick slipped behind her, he grabbed her face, dug into her eyes, and pulled back.
He set the head down, and started to peal the skin. Nick covered his face in the thick, dark liquid, he rubbed blood over his arms, and white shirt.
He went to the next rotter. Nick hoped that it would be Alicia, Strand, or Troy, dead, or alive. He even searched for Madison, she was still his mom. He saw that she went down with Alicia, and Strand, they couldn't be far from each other.
Nick’s energy drained with each rotter he'd seen. The sun lowered, and the sky casted red, and the water turned into a cold, purple mixture of cement. The blood on his skin dried, and cracked.
Nick sighed, he looked up to the town behind him. His legs ached, his chest heaved in pain. His eyes fought sleep as he walked to the first building. A restaurant of what used to be called San Angelino's. Dust covered the windowed wall, tables were flipped on their sides, and a dead cockroach lied glued to the ground by its own shell. Nick checked the kitchen, and any extra rooms that hid behind the kitchen wall, the place was empty. Nick couldn’t find an ounce of food in sight.
He went back to the front, a rotter clawed at the window.
Nick lied down on a torn red booth, and looked up to the checkered ceiling. He closed his eyes, but saw Troy’s last moments alive, betrayed by his only friend, and the woman who was that friend’s mom.
Even in the few short weeks that he knew the other, he grew fond of him. Even if he did try to kill him when they’d first met, and he had his own thoughts on killing him, the broken face of Troy burn into Nick’s eyes.
He opened his eyes, the checkered ceiling only stared back at him.
Light fluttered in from outside. The only trace the rotter left of it being there were stains on the glass.
Nick walked out the door, the bell rung. An echo from before the dead rose. Something useful that would now attract all the wrong attention in an apocalypse.
The gorge had calmed down over night, but it’s waters still running, but the dam had mostly stuck in place.
A boat sat flipped over on the other side of the water.
In a hurry, Nick ran into the icy water, it only went up to his knees, but he couldn’t see mere inches down. The current was strong, and threatened to drag Nick down.
Groans came from beneath the boat.
Nick’s heart dropped, his lungs squeezed.
The boat held an infected Strand down. His skin had a bluish tint, and water spilled from his mouth.
Nick took two steps back, again, and again, until he ran. Strand shouldn’t have died. It was Nick’s fault.
Their boat had flipped, his family could all be dead. A corpse just like Victor Strand.
The sun seared down on Nick, he found a knife from a rotter who’d drowned. He searched in silence, and it didn’t seem to have an end.
The sun fell, and darkness consumed Mexico. Kids have him strange looks, Nick got chased with a shovel, twice, a gun a few more times than that. One of the people sympathized with him, giving him a granola bar.
Nick crawled inside a truck bed, and pulled large papers over him. Millions of stars twinkled above him. Galaxies expanding miles all around earth. Earth seemed insignificant amongst them all.
Nick used his hands as a pillow, he was free from Madison at last.
He didn't want her to die, He wanted her alive so she could protect Alicia. Nick was the one supposed to die, not Alicia, Strand, or Madison.
Nick lied awake, everything around him was coated in the pitch black darkness. A rotter hit the side of the truck bed, and growled, pulling Nick from his thoughts.
No camp dared to light a fire, for fear of the dead coming, Proctor John, or any other group who might threaten their security. Nick slid from the truck bed, stabbed the rotter with the sharp end of the knife. The holder part of the knife slid out of the sharp of part the knife.
He ran, until the black, icy water hit his ankle. He knew he wouldn’t live for very long–he’d been alive longer than he thought he would. Lots of people’s lives were cut short by the dead. Most the population gone with what people thought was only a flu at first.
Death forgot about him. It was a common thought that came to him Nick, but a thought that was true.
Glo, those other guys at the church, they all knew the risk, but no one ever took the dead into consideration. No one would, it seemed impossible, and an outlandish thought.
Nick took another step deeper in the water. He wondered if the dead hasn't risen. Would Glo, or anyone still be alive? Nick looked down at his blood caked arms, he would've died in that church.
They’d probably be at the Bazaar living the rest of their lives high. Nick wanted to be there, he found a sense of normalcy, and it was the most fun he had in months. Waking up next to Troy in a twin sized mattress that probably had mold growing inside. The night before left him to lie awake, and contemplate his new found feelings for his best friend.
Nick called out to death, so sure he would feel deaths cold hands taking his own, guiding him to The water.
The water next to him splashed uncontrollably. Troy crawled to the dried concrete, and fell to the ground.
Nick paled, eyes frozen open. He ran forward, his arms shook.
Nick grabbed Troy’s face. Blood flaked, and dried against the side of his face. His left eye swelled shut. He gasped, his heart leaped for joy. “Troy.” Nick said, yelled.
“Troy.” He repeated.
Troy groaned, and couched out water. He grabbed Nick’s arms with his hands. “Nicky,” Troy choked, spitting water out of his throat.
Nick turned, and ran. Splashing water on his clothes. He tossed Troy over over back, and held his arm in front of him.
Troy’s face slammed into Nick’s lower neck.
“Don’t die on me, man.” Nick said. He carried him up the slope, and down a street.
A layer of fog settled between the shops, rotters came out of no where, almost biting Nick’s shoulder. Nick felt along Troy’s belt for his machete, and cut a head off. It’s slimy head made a slap sound on the asphalt, blood and clear liquid spilled across the floor.
They dashed between two buildings. It was dark, and humid. Rusted pipes ran along the walls, a foul smell bounced off the brick walls.
Nick set Troy down against one of the brick buildings, and sweat dripped off Nick’s nose, and slid down the other’s cheek.
Nick thought back to the few seconds before the dam crumbled, he planned on drowning. He sat back, next to Troy. Maybe death forgot about him, or maybe life wouldn’t let go of him.
Dark spots surrounded his vision. Of what he could see, all of it turned gray blue. The top of his head felt solid, his muscles tightened. Nick’s spine pulsated, and brain fogged over. He struggled to keep his eyes focused, not one muscle in his body urge him to resist, so he embraced the feeling.
Nick opened his eyes. He was surrounded by bluebonnets, and rolling hills. A shadow crossed over Nick. A hand reached out in front of his face. He grabbed it with his own. An arm sneaked around his back, pulling him towards the other.
Nick saw the familiar curls of Troy’s hair, and sunk into his embrace.
It reminded him of that night they got high at the bazaar. Only this time, no rotters were around.
“You weren’t supposed to die yet.” Troy said, rolling circles in Nick’s neck.
Tears threatened to escape Nick’s eyes as he let go. He looked to the ground. “These were Madison’s favorite flower.” Nick said as he pulled one from the ground.
“So, would this be heaven or hell for you?” Troy asked. His face clean of all cuts and dirt. Only a small dent rested on his temple.
Nick ignored him, he looked out into the distance. Silence fell between them. Neither knew how long, the sun wouldn’t move, but neither cared. There was no time in the afterlife. It was just them.