I buried the blade of the hatchet into the center of the man’s skull. The soft, decaying bone and tissue feel through easily beneath the hatchet’s blade. Blood flushed from the wound and I kicked the man’s body removing the hatchet from his head. Behind me I heard the low growls and moans of others approaching. I looked back once at the sound and bolted forward.
I leapt over the bodies of people that didn’t make it and weaved in and out of the trees.
After a few minutes I saw a clearing at the edge of the woods and ran straight for it. My back pack slammed against my back with each step I took. I gripped the hatchet tightly and burst into the clearing panting from exhaustion. Turns out the clearing was a town that had obviously went to hell when the fallout happened. Various items lay strewn across the streets. Bodies lay here and there with their insides spilled out on the asphalt. Cars sat parked crooked or stopped in the middle of the road covered in dust and blood. The buildings had broken windows and the doors were broken and hanging from the hinges.
I stood there taking it all in until I heard the low growl of one close by. I turned around and drove the hatchet into the head of a woman. Her lips were gone and she had a whole chunk missing from her abdomen. I pulled out the hatchet and took off deeper into the city as her body hit the ground with a thud. I bolted through the streets running around cars and occasionally stepping on someone’s organs. The squish of human insides beneath my boots made me sick to my stomach but I fought the urge to vomit. I’d learned years ago that you must learn to keep a meal down. You never know when you will get to enjoy the next meal without worrying if it is safe to eat. In my own thoughts I almost walked past a large white house until I heard a whisper. I looked and standing in the doorway stood a girl that looked about my age. She beckoned for me to come and I complied. She brought me into the house and shut the door softly behind me.
I looked around the house surprised by what I saw. The house was clean. It didn’t have a single trace of blood and everything was orderly. All of the other houses I’d been in were old, decrepit and smelled of blood and sorrow. This place smelled of pure humanity as if it had remained untouched by the plague that had struck the world. I turned around and the girl began to explain.
“This is Havenwood,” she said. “We are the only residents here and we help those in need be on their way. My parents expect you gone by morning.”
The girl was surprisingly cute. In this world cute was hard to come by considering most of it was scarred, dead, or changed from stress. Looking at her made me want to stay here for more than just a day.
“My name is Bryce,” I said. “What’s yours?”
“My name,” she said like she was shocked I’d even asked. “My name is Cecilia.”