Desire to Survive

Rick put his hand gingerly on Shane’s shoulder but he shrugged it off and proceeded to angrily shove bags into the back of the truck. No doubt they were filled with a significant supply of our canned food. I instantly grew mad and was about to give him a piece of my mind when Rick spoke up.

“Shane, you can’t leave.” He told him softly. Rick’s eyes pleaded his friend. Shane looked back at him, his own eyes softening too for a split second. But they went cold and black again quickly, to mask his emotions.

“No Rick,” He grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We can’t stay here. You’re going to get us all killed.”

“You don’t understand Shane, we need you! Every one of us needs you.” Rick begged, stepping closer to him. Shane rubbed his close shaven head.

“Why, man? Tell me why. Why would you need us?” Shane sneered, taking his hands from his head and hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. “Looks like you got everything under control here.”

“Don’t be like that, brother. Please listen. You are important to our group, more so than I. Me and you, were the ones that run this group. You can’t leave this all in my hands!” Rick began to yell. He waved his hands out to the mixed group of people. “All of these people! Need! You!” He said, growing heated.

Shane glared at him, taking a defensive stance. I held my breath, hoping there wouldn’t be a fist fight. “Rick, you give me one reason why it wouldn’t be a good idea to bust outta here.” Shane said through his teeth. Rick licked his lips, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You and Andrea, you guys are some of the greatest shots we have. We need that kind of defense in case something goes wrong.”

Shane did one of his signature snort chuckles. I looked around me. The group of people watching had grown. Everyone had gathered around in their pajamas, woken up by the yelling.

“And Shane, you are a great leader. I know we have our differences but we have the same intensions; to protect this group!” Rick explained. “You know, you and I have been partners for a long time. You are my best friend, if you can believe it. If you left, I’d never see you again.” Rick’s voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. Shane avoided eye contact carefully.

“Yeah man but,” Shane started but was cut off by Rick.

“Carl. Lori. They need you too. When I was in the hospital, they needed you. You looked after them like they were your own. They need you still.” Rick whispered so I could barely hear him. I knew Carl was his son, and after hearing Rick’s story about how he was stuck in a coma while the apocalypse occurred, I knew he had hit a soft spot.

You could practically feel Shane melting like butter. His sharp, dark eyes lost their ever so prominent fight and his large shoulders sagged.

“They…”

“Yes Shane, they need you.” Rick nodded and put his hand on Shane’s shoulder. Shane looked like a deer in the headlights. He stared across the group of people that surrounded the truck. Then he looked to Andrea, who stared back in disbelief.

“You’ve got to be kidding me” She sighed, running her fingers through her bleach blonde hair.

Shane glanced from her to Rick and then shook his head, looking to the floor. There was an almost inaudible curse and he turned and walked away to his tent. Rick let out a heavy breath. He turned to the woman standing to his side.

“Andrea, I’m,”

“No, no. Don’t talk. There goes my chance to get away from this hell hole.” She said and turned on her heel, jogging to Shane’s tent and going inside before zipping it up.

Almost immediately, the crowd broke up. Some went back to their tents to get more sleep and others began to do chores throughout the camp. I decided to go check up on Adam; I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep anyways. When I saw that the little boy wasn’t sleeping in his tent, I went to seek out Carol.

Carol, one of the sweetest women I’ve ever met, had taken a liking to the boy and began taking care of him like her own child in the absence of his father. The boy had fallen into a kind of sluggish depression since his father passed. He needed help dressing and eating, and often woke up screaming for his daddy in the middle of the night.

I soon found the older woman sitting near the fire pit with the dark boy in her lap. He had dirty streaks down his cheeks and she was busy wiping his wet eyes with a rag. She cooed him and I couldn’t help but smile. Carol had recently lost her own daughter to walkers, so taking care of Adam was like having her little girl back.

“Hey Carol,” I smiled as I approached. “How are you feeling Adam?”

The boy slowly looked at me with glassy eyes. The poor thing had been crying again. He most likely freaked out when he woke up without me there next to him.

“Hi Oakley.” He mumbled. I reached over and rubbed his thick, curly hair.

“Have you been playing with Carl?” I asked. The boy shook his head no.

“I haven’t felt like it.”

“Oh come on now,” I said cheerfully. “He wants to play with you. Play with him today ok? For me?” I asked, making puppy dog eyes at him. A tiny smile crept to his lips.

“Ok Oakley. I will.” Adam promised and I got up.

“Carol, thank you so much for taking care of him. You’re such a big help.”

“Oh, it’s nothing dear,” Said the woman. “You’re welcome.”

A few hours later, I walked from my tent to witness a very angry Andrea storm out of Shane’s tent and to the truck they were previously packing. I heard Shane yelling after her but she didn’t listen. Wondering what was going on, I watched her as she threw open the trunk and began tossing all but one packed bag out onto the forest floor. Then, she got in and drove off wildly, throwing up dirt as she made her way to the main road. I shook my head. So much drama.

That night, the whole gang ate canned peas, corn, carrots and roasted rabbit that Daryl had hunted that morning. It was another good meal and I could tell we were all happy. Even Andrea had come back a few hours after she had left, knowing dinner would be on the fire when she returned.

It’s amazing how the little things make you so happy during times like those. It really humbles a person when a can of beans excites you, just because you know you have food. I could barely remember the Internet, my phone, gaming… Having gas for the car, hot showers, not having to fight for your life every waking hour.

I could barely remember having a washing machine, iPod, greasy junk food containing only God knows what. But the thing was, I really didn’t care. Although part of me missed life before the world went to hell, another, much smaller part of me welcomed this new world. I was surprised how much better I had gotten with what was happening around me.

When my father was hacked to pieces by Kaden almost five months ago, I didn’t think I could make it in this world. I wanted to end my life so I didn’t have to live with that, or the fear of becoming one of those things. I had missed my family sorely, but now I felt hardly any emotion towards it. Even looking back to Daryl killing Adam’s father before he was even dead now seemed appropriate. Some may call it becoming a monster, or savage, or hollow. I call it adapting to this world. It had to be done. Without adaptation, we would be sure to die. Every one of us.

Despite growing accustomed to the horror that surrounded me, I still managed to have nightmares practically every night. On this particular night, I had the worst one yet. One that takes my theory of adaption and shreds it to bits…

In the dream, I was running down a dark alley between tall, brick buildings. I was covered in sweat and panting hard, no doubt being chased by walkers. That’s how every dream went. I was about to turn the corner when a hoard of the undead beat me around the bend. There was about sixty of them all shuffling and running towards me, aching for fresh human flesh.

I wheeled around to turn the other way and reached for my gun. Of course, it wasn’t there. I was unarmed in all my dreams. I felt naked without my bow or knife. I was about to reach the end of the alley when another separate hoard of walkers got there before me. I turned to see I was trapped both ways. I couldn’t climb the walls to get away either. The beasts groaned and ran towards me faster. I felt like crying, giving up the ghost and letting them devour me.

The walkers were a mere five feet away. I closed my eyes, awaiting the intense pain that was bound to come. Strangely enough, it didn’t. After a few seconds, I slowly opened my eyes to see the undead stopped, surrounding me by a few feet. They were so close I could smell their disgusting, rotting flesh, and yet they didn’t attack. I was near hyperventilating when I heard a familiar voice.

“Oak, honey.” It said. I whirled around to see none other than my father.

There he was, normal and alive as ever, smiling at me like he never left. Nothing had changed; not his bushy beard, red baseball hat, khaki shorts covered in grease from working on cars, not even the black shirt from the Mirage casino in Vegas that he always wore. My dad stood in front of me, in the midst of hundreds of walkers, with a smile on his face.

“Come here.” He said lightly, opening his arms in a hug. I was overjoyed. Tears ran down my face. With a smile, I ran to him, wrapping him in my arms and burying my face in his thick shoulder. It only lasted a second though.

Suddenly, the horrible stench of decaying flesh filled my nostrils. There was a hissing in my ear. Stunned, I leaned back to look at my father again and see if the hoard of walkers were going to attack us. I felt my heart fall as I looked into the eyeless pits of my father’s undead body.

He had suddenly changed while I hugged him and I hadn’t even noticed. Tears poured down my face as I screamed, trying to pull away. My father’s grasp around my shoulders was like a vise, not allowing me to move. I screamed louder as he roared in my face. His lips were torn off, exposing rotting yellow teeth and a bloody mouth that reeked of death.

I tried pulling away harder but it was no use. In the blink of an eye, I felt my father’s teeth rip a chunk of flesh from my neck. Blood poured from the wound onto the floor. The other walkers grunted but kept their distance. I screamed so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. My father then bit my face, Ripping off my entire bottom lip and half of my cheek. I looked into his black eyeless pits as he chewed the flesh.
The other walkers began to close in on me and I saw myself being ripped to shreds.

I awoke with tears streaming down my face. My throat was dry and my mouth tasted like feet. My breath came in shaking heaves as I tried not to throw up all over my tent. With trembling hands, I wiped away my tears, but more came like an endless fountain. I was terrified.

“Kaden.” I whispered to myself. I knew Kaden would help me. Trying not to fall, I unzipped my tent and looked around. It was pitch black outside but I could see there were no walkers around. Thankfully, his tent was right next to mine. I unzipped the door and poked my head in to see him sleeping peacefully.

“Kaden.” I whispered, trying not to cry when I talked. He awoke with a jolt. Jive was already up by the door, licking my tear stained hand.

“Yeah honey?” He yawned.

“I… I had a n-nightmare.” I whimpered. “Can I come in here?”

Kaden sat up, looking concerned. When he saw how bad I was trembling and crying, he leaned over and opened the door the rest of the way.

“There now sweetheart, come in. You can stay here. Jive and I will take care of you.” He said and helped me lay down beside him. He zipped up the door and wrapped his arm around me. I instantly felt better. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“No.” I mumbled. He kissed my head.

“That’s ok. You go to bed.” He told me and I obeyed.

My nightmares of being hunted didn’t haunt me for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Kaden and I awoke suddenly to the faint clanking of metal. Jive was growling by the door. Despite being thoroughly comfortable against Kaden’s warm body, I both shot up in a rush. He followed suit. The tin can noisemakers. We ran outside along with everyone else, with weapons ready to fire. When we got to the fence, Rick was already there, his revolver pointed to the head of a dead little girl.

She was hissing and pushing against the rope, which was neck level to her. Her pink dress and dirty white sandals were covered in blood and her matted blonde hair was missing chunks. The poor girl, probably eight or nine years old at death had her nose missing and an eyeball hanging out of it’s socket by a single, shriveled vein. I began to dry heave and pushed my face into Kaden’s chest so I didn’t have to see.

Rick was hesitating with his gun. We all knew he had a very hard time shooting young walkers. He told us all of the time he had to do it once before, with Carol’s daughter, Sophia.

“Just do it, man!” Shane bellowed at last. I peeked to watch the scene. Rick was glancing from Shane to the little girl, who hadn’t figured out how to go under the rope yet. The poor man was shaking. Shane raised his hand to reach for the gun right as Rick shot. I closed my eyes just in time to hear a loud pop and the body of the child slump to the floor.

The smell of rotted flesh filled my nose again.

The girl was dead but I was still in my own, never-ending nightmare.