Field of Corpses

About a day went by and we still had no idea how we were supposed to reach California. We didn't know what part of California, and where we would even start looking.

"Do you think they're still alive?" Christian asked after a very long silence.

"I hope so. I'd like to believe so." I said seriously.

"We're going to die if they're dead," Christian said sadly.

"Maybe not. Maybe there will be things left from them that can keep us alive."

"Like what?"

"Maybe we'll find Blue and take it. Maybe even their homes would be a great way to stay alive longer."

"What do you honestly think is going to happen anyway," Christian asked me, sounding very pessimistic. "If we meet them, is your skin going to grow back, and is your pale skin going to get its color back? How are we just all of a sudden going to look alive and well so we can get out of America?"

"I don't know," I said doubtfully. He had great points.

If we did find them, how would it seem like I was alive again to anyone else? I had skin missing from my wrist so my bone was showing. I had gashes all over, and the one on my forehead showed my skull.

Would my stench go away too? Just because we found them, would the smell of my rotting flesh fade? I didn't understand why none of this came to mind when I was thinking the plan was going to work. Even if I was able to start being alive again, which is hard to think could happen anyway, why would I look alive?

I could be mad at Christian for ruining my hope for my future, but he had opened my eyes. It was all true. We couldn't find them, and just leave to Amsterdam to hopefully see people I knew. We couldn't go anywhere, because everyone would believe zombies were now invading them too.

Now I was just driving quietly, thinking doubtful thoughts the whole time.

There probably wasn't even a point in driving anymore. The whole thing had got me so disappointed, and now I didn't even want to proceed in trying to find them. There was no hope for me.

The car ride was one waste of time now. Meeting Christian was one waste of time. Because now, all that was most likely going to happen is to not find anything that can keep us alive. We'd both die, and it would have been a waste of falling in love. Zombies don't feel love, and by that point, Christian and I wouldn't even stay near each other. All we'd care about then is food.

On the bright side, Christian's dog was no longer getting to me. I wasn't wanting to eat him anymore, and I can only imagine it was because of how horrible he smelt. He smelled like he had been buried under a pile of rotting flesh or meat for days. I was used to the smell, so it didn't make me sick or anything, I just didn't want to eat something that gross smelling.

"Sorry," Christian spoke up.

"For?"

"I basically ruined your mood."

"No, you didn't. I'm just thinking."

"Yea, probably about how stupid you think this is."

He was right, but how could I let him know I don't believe in it now either? We'd probably end up agreeing that we shouldn't go on any further, and die elsewhere. I at least wanted to find their dead bodies, or zombies roaming around. At least then I'd know what came to be of my heroes.

"We're still doing it," I said bluntly. "I've waited years to finally meet them, let alone be able to be right next to them. I'm not stopping now, especially when I'm running out of time."

"I'm still going too, I just don't think we're getting out of here no matter how alive we're feeling."

"I'd still try. Maybe I'd even help them get there, with you."

"You wouldn't come?"

"No."

"Then I wouldn't."

"You would, because you can." I told him. "I can't, because of my condition, so you are."

"Are you telling me what to do?" He asked like he was shocked.

"Even if we tried to go together, how would we get there? We couldn't take a plane, we couldn't swim..."

"We could steal gas, and someone's boat in California." He said enthusiastically.

"Do you know how long that would take? Not to mention we would end up running out of gas, and be stranded."

He didn't answer. He just looked out the window instead. Now I had just crashed his hopes down along with mine.

Everything felt like it was getting worse at that moment, like I was dying a few seconds faster than I already had been. It felt as if my world was crashing down on me all over again, just like it had when all my family left me, and I had nowhere to go. I was completely alone, and even by Christian, I was starting to feel the same way. Feeling that our future was not going the way we wanted, knowing that we'd probably die off, and end up apart, I was already feeling a loss of connection. More than likely, Christian wasn't going to be mine before long.

If we didn't continue on with our plan, trying to find them, Christian would for sure live longer than me. I'd die off, and he'd have a few months, or maybe even a year... unless he really did love me, it might break his heart that I was gone. Yet, if we went on our search to find them, and they were dead, that'd knock Christian's life away as much as mine now. How could he handle that? Seeing that would have me flat-lining within days.

Either way, we were going to die.

Still, I wanted to find them. If I found them alive, I wouldn't need to move to Amsterdam. I could stay behind with them in California. Even if I didn't look so gruesome, I'd know there was hardly any point in going to Amsterdam.

Friends were there, but how often were they there for me? And the only reason they went there was for the weed, but being a zombie already, in this country full of them, who's going to smoke all of the weed here in America? There was so much, and the full-deads couldn't smoke. Everything I basically wanted was here. Thinking about it now, why would Christian want to leave?

We had everything here we wanted for free. We had our alone time like we always wanted, and nothing could bother us. Everyone was dead, basically, and we had the country to ourselves. We fucking ruled it, and here we were hours ago planning on leaving it all behind as soon as we thought we were alive again.

As much as I always hated America, I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to go somewhere where people were alive and could tell me what to do. Here, I felt as if I ruled the place, and no one could do shit to stop me. I was dying, sure, but I should have been dead a long time ago. Maybe I was meant to be half living all a long.