PART 2: SOMEONE AT THE DOOR
Time is a fickle thing. It never stays the same, and yet it exerts control over everything. It can be our greatest enemy or our greatest resource depending on the situation. This time, it was definitely our enemy.
I hurriedly put on my gloves. All I could think of was how the community was about to be overrun by zombies. Where would we go after that? Would we even survive in the wilderness? Will the horde come back and trap us in here, starving us out? What the hell do I do?
"Alright, do you have a plan?" Jenna asked me, looking into her bag.
I had nothing. My greatest weakness began to rear its ugly head- I hated situations like this, where something unexpected grabbed me by my balls. I was like a deer stuck in headlights- my tongue went dry and my mind went crazy. I began sweating, in winter.
"Calm down. Panicking's not gonna help." Jenna said, passing me a towel to wipe the beads of sweat on my forehead. "We need to find some way to distract the zombies away from the house." she said, looking out the window. "And I think I have just the thing."
What the hell was she talking about?
"What?" I asked. She held out a flare gun. I immediately understood what it meant.
"Take the flare. I'll run on ahead and warn the community." she said. I nodded. I'd learned to trust her survival instincts the day after she came to the community, when she disappeared for a few hours and came back with five rabbits in her hand.
I saw her looking at me with concern in her eyes. Her body language screamed fear.
"Yes, I'll take care." I groaned sarcastically.
"I love it when you read my mind." Jenna chuckled. But soon, the gravity of the situation dawned on her and her smile wore off. "But seriously, be careful." Jenna said, coming closer to me. We looked at each other for a few seconds, our breaths intermingling like it had done just a few minutes ago. Then, our mouths met. I could feel our pleasure flowing through. I put my hand on her neck. Her warm skin felt so good. The fact that we were saying goodbye made the kiss so much more passionate, and it felt like our tongues were dancing a final dance together.
Time was not on our side though. She pulled away soon.
"Fire it in five minutes." she said, as she turned around and jogged out of the outpost.
I set a timer on my watch. I readied my flare gun. As I waited, my mind slowly started drifting to when I was at the grips of death previously.
I had been wandering through the forest for three days at that point. The bottle in my hand was almost out of water, and my backpack only held a half-eaten bag of Doritos. But I had no idea what to do, other than to keep treading through the forest aimlessly. I could see the sunlight getting dimmer and dimmer by the minute. . I needed to climb a tree, as it was safe from the zombies.
I was just about to reach for a tree branch when I saw the huge stone wall. There were four people on outposts at either end. A wave of relief swept over me. People were a welcome sight. I could get some help from them. Maybe I wouldn't die in the forest after all.
"Hello!" I yelled. "I need help!"
My shout startled them. They immediately flashed their lights at me, and took cover. One of them yelled from behind the wall, "Come out with your hands raised!"
"Yes, alright. My name is Sam Richards!" I yelled, coming out to the bushes with my hands behind my head. "I have no food or water. Please, help me."
The people looked at each other.
"Weapons?" one of them asked me.
"No, nothing." I nodded my head.
I opened my hands and turned around, proving my statement.
The man took a few seconds to survey me. Then he nodded his head and whistled.
"Come over to the other side, that's where the gate is."
"Right." I nodded. It felt great to be able to speak to others. I was immensely thankful to these people for taking me in.
That was just two weeks ago. Since then, I'd formed good relations with most of the people. I volunteered for almost all duties- cooking, guarding and repairing. I took weapons class, taught by one of the General's trusted lieutenants. I'd chosen a hunting knife as my weapon- it was pretty long and handy. I was sure it could easily slice through a zombie head. I'd learned many things in my two weeks there, but in the end, I chose to be a scout. I was really good at remembering small details, which was a major advantage in the field. In the beginning, I used to sleep in the armory, but soon they trusted me enough to let me have a scout's room of my own.
There was a guy who I particularly liked. He had soft eyes, which gave off a kind warmth even to a stranger like me. The first time I saw him was the morning after I came to the community.
I was sitting on a bench, drinking water from my filled water bottle. He walked over to me with two beers in his hand.
"Hey."
He held one of them up to me. I nodded in thanks as I grabbed it and took a sip.
"My name is Tom. Tom Andrews." He extended his hand.
I shook it. "Sam Richards."
"So, what brings you to this part of town?" Tom immediately got to the point.
"Well, same as everyone else, I guess. Zombies attacked me on the way to Ashton, and I've been wandering through the forest now. Thankfully, I found this community though."
"Ah, I'm from Ashton myself, born and raised. Everyone here is."
"So how come everyone's so far from home? I thought you would've escaped by sea. The harbor is pretty big, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but not big enough for a whole city of boats. It got clogged up pretty soon." Tom's voice lowered. "It was a fuckin' bloodbath..."
"What happened?"
