Trouble's Safe
At home With AwKwARd
My father once told me that this life that we now had to live was once seen as an impossibility. He said that other viruses like "HIV" and "Ebola" were deadly, but never anything like the infection had spread. Those viruses were dead now, or at least someone stopped caring about recording outbreaks.
Father also told me that what must seem like a natural world to me, is awkward and alien to others. For me, I right at home with awkward.
They had a name for the different generations of pre and post infection; the ones who knew the world before the global outbreak were called "Live generation", while those of us who were born after the outbreak were known as the "Dead generation".
We called them "Lifers" because they were survivors, capable of making somewhat of a life out of what was carcass of the world. They called us "Dead heads" or "Deady's" because we would grow up in a world where there was only death and it was the only outcome to look forward to.
Yeah, that is pretty pessimistic, but it's realistic too.
My mother would only refer to the bad ones as dead heads, saying that not all children born into this life were bad. She said that there wasn't any point in believing in God anymore because there was no way he, she, or it gave a crap anymore because if they did, the entire world wouldn't be like this.
I once asked about what religion was when I heard a New Zionist preaching on at the local cistern. Father and I had gone there to refill our water with the only potable water in our area.
During one of our scavenging trips we ran into a small community that was well guarded and had some survivors living there. They refused us entry to stay, but allowed us to trade and fill our water containers there. That was fair and we traded often with them.
My mother was always worried about my father taking me out when I was only 7, but he reassured her that I would be safe with him. I was, he never let me out of his sight and he taught me how to survive during those long treks to the town. We usually had to walk 5 miles from our hideout, taking a route through the woods and staying off of main roads.
We took with us two days worth of food if we got caught up in anything. He had a hand axe and I carried a crowbar, flashlights, extra batteries, water bottles, and he carried a shotgun and .44 magnum revolver. I wasn't permitted to carry any of the firearms, although my father did teach me how to use, assemble, disassemble, and clean them.
He taught me how to tell how old the undead were by looking at their features. Most older infected were devoid of any blood, most of it drained out or coagulated. No maggots were present, they had long festered and matured long ago. They would have their stomachs distended or blown out, exposing rotting consumed flesh. They would aslo have rotting flesh sticking out of their asses, proving the theory that they continue to eat even when full to bursting. This seemed to prove that the undead's mere existance was to be a mobile vector for whatever the virus was. Once it was spread, the vector had no other real purpose aside from just that. The consuming of the flesh was the most convenient way for the virus to spread, biting, clawing, blood, even semen, which was once tested.
Being alone now, I live for myself and only for myself. I don't let anyone or anything hold me back. I always feel that I have to move forward, that even though staying alive is as good as it gets, it's my life and my choice to keep up the fight to live my life to the fullest and to die on my terms, not the undead or the viruses. I want to die an old man, alone if necessary, but old and content with how far along I had come.
I never loved a woman, tried to make something work with another survivor that I found in an abandoned school gymnasium. It had been a safety zone for about 7 years before the undead finally broke through. It was a massacre.
Father also told me that what must seem like a natural world to me, is awkward and alien to others. For me, I right at home with awkward.
They had a name for the different generations of pre and post infection; the ones who knew the world before the global outbreak were called "Live generation", while those of us who were born after the outbreak were known as the "Dead generation".
We called them "Lifers" because they were survivors, capable of making somewhat of a life out of what was carcass of the world. They called us "Dead heads" or "Deady's" because we would grow up in a world where there was only death and it was the only outcome to look forward to.
Yeah, that is pretty pessimistic, but it's realistic too.
My mother would only refer to the bad ones as dead heads, saying that not all children born into this life were bad. She said that there wasn't any point in believing in God anymore because there was no way he, she, or it gave a crap anymore because if they did, the entire world wouldn't be like this.
I once asked about what religion was when I heard a New Zionist preaching on at the local cistern. Father and I had gone there to refill our water with the only potable water in our area.
During one of our scavenging trips we ran into a small community that was well guarded and had some survivors living there. They refused us entry to stay, but allowed us to trade and fill our water containers there. That was fair and we traded often with them.
My mother was always worried about my father taking me out when I was only 7, but he reassured her that I would be safe with him. I was, he never let me out of his sight and he taught me how to survive during those long treks to the town. We usually had to walk 5 miles from our hideout, taking a route through the woods and staying off of main roads.
We took with us two days worth of food if we got caught up in anything. He had a hand axe and I carried a crowbar, flashlights, extra batteries, water bottles, and he carried a shotgun and .44 magnum revolver. I wasn't permitted to carry any of the firearms, although my father did teach me how to use, assemble, disassemble, and clean them.
He taught me how to tell how old the undead were by looking at their features. Most older infected were devoid of any blood, most of it drained out or coagulated. No maggots were present, they had long festered and matured long ago. They would have their stomachs distended or blown out, exposing rotting consumed flesh. They would aslo have rotting flesh sticking out of their asses, proving the theory that they continue to eat even when full to bursting. This seemed to prove that the undead's mere existance was to be a mobile vector for whatever the virus was. Once it was spread, the vector had no other real purpose aside from just that. The consuming of the flesh was the most convenient way for the virus to spread, biting, clawing, blood, even semen, which was once tested.
Being alone now, I live for myself and only for myself. I don't let anyone or anything hold me back. I always feel that I have to move forward, that even though staying alive is as good as it gets, it's my life and my choice to keep up the fight to live my life to the fullest and to die on my terms, not the undead or the viruses. I want to die an old man, alone if necessary, but old and content with how far along I had come.
I never loved a woman, tried to make something work with another survivor that I found in an abandoned school gymnasium. It had been a safety zone for about 7 years before the undead finally broke through. It was a massacre.