The Wake of the Dead

Chapter 2

Melissa

"NO!" I scream, waking up with a start from my sleeping bag on the hard ground. Even though the night is cool I am sweating. I had just dreamed about my parents, my dad had his gun trained on my undead mother's head, he was saying he was sorry, so so sorry, then he pulled the trigger... I try to hold in tears but soon they come streaming out. It's only been three months since my father shot my mother. He later shot himself from the grief, didn't even think about me. I reach to my left and feel for the handgun, the gun that shot my mother and killed my dad. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!" I scream at the gun. I don't care if it can't hear me, it deserves to know. I sob into my pillow and cry myself back to sleep.

That morning I wake up with my back stiff and a headache. I pick up the cracked mirror I found a few days ago and see a girl with blonde hair sticking up everywhere, a face splotched with dirt, and green eyes that are red and puffy on the edges... me. I sigh. I haven't seen anyone (besides undead people) for at least a month now. I had to ditch the last people I was with, a woman in her thirty's and her father, who, though he claimed was alright, got bitten by one of them, and I couldn't take any chances.

Looking into the distance I see the outskirts of a city, which according to my map is Cleveland, Illinois. I look at my surroundings, to my left is a forest going to who knows where and to my right is a field. There is small traffic light, it's lights still flicking on, off, on, off. I wonder how that's still working but shrug it off. I pack up my stuff and go on my way.

You don't know how eerie it is, walking through a big city when it's perfectly quiet and there's no bustle at all just... silence. I remember kids in my grade would say they're ready for the zombie apocalypse, I never believed them that it would actually happen, and I never imagined it being this horrible. It being worse when you're a lone 13 year old. I see Lake Eerie to my left. It looks so calm and welcoming, tears spring into my eyes when I remember those sunny Chicago summers, and swimming in Lake Michigan.

Suddenly I see a dark shape flit by me. My first instinct is to take out my gun. I don't say anything, in fear of it being one of the undead. Even though I've only had to deal with one of those things I don't want to again. I see it again, this time closer and fear and adrenaline surge through me. Then I hear the click of a trigger being pulled and stand stock still.

"Don't move." she says.

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