Forsaken Dreams

A thousand thoughts run through my head. How to stop them. How to fight them. Where to go. How to hide. How to survive.

Along with that, I had questions. Lots of them. But the one thing I wanted to know was. Can I keep her? I knew the answer. I couldn’t. She was dead. But I couldn’t live with the fact that this is what she is now. What she become. What I have to do without.

Now that I think this, I wish I never left her in the first place. What was I thinking fending for myself? Was I really that selfish?

I knew that I had to kill her. That was my vow I made nights ago, but how could I? Did I have the strength?

My vision gets blurry from the tears, I look around and the Undead have finally all caught up with me. I was surrounded. And then I thought…

Is this it?

But that’s the thing, I had a chance to run away. I just couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough.

Its moments like these, where you accept that death is coming for you. I didn’t know what to do. I do know I have to try. The only thing that will make me lose for sure is, if I never tried. I have to fight back. I have to stop them.

But most importantly, I have to kill my mother. Its my vow to.

Their arms are reaching, wanting me, needing me. I couldn’t give in so easily. I swung my hatchet. But it didn’t do any good. I barely knew how to use it. I know I better learn fast though. I widened my stance and swung again, this time cutting off an arm of one.

I look to see who that zombie was. To see a pregnant woman, her body still large and firm, her eyes still clear, walk toward you and to know she's dead and must still be killed takes a force of will that is almost unfathomable.

And yet I swing. With all my strength I pull that hatchet across and around me, severing heads from necks, decapitating them in order to end their desperate existence. I don't even realize that I am yelling until I have to suck in gulps of air.

The hatchet lodges in the neck of one of the Returned and I tug it free and swing again, blood slinging from the blade. Again and again I swing, cutting down the Undead that fill the street. The hatchet lodges in the head of another zombie and as I pull on it again, the handle slick with blood.

I almost want to throw up, but I hold back. I have to be strong.

I lunge down the road as fast as I can to get to that house, gripping the handle of the hatchet in both hands. But it was so far. So far and close at the same time. I definitely didn’t want to be like them. I stop dead in my tracks.

My mother!

I was so focused and concentrated on one thing that I forgot what I had to do.

Could I do it?

Never in my life have I killed a human being. It's one thing to sit on a porch and sling arrows at the zombies below. It's another to feel the slice of a blade cut through flesh.

Because even though the conscious mind knows that the Returned are no longer living human beings, there's still a part of the mind that rebels against the truth. That insists the woman, man, child coming toward you must still have some semblance of humanity.

Especially for those zombies that are recently turned. That haven't lost limbs and flesh to time. That haven't broken their fingers trying to reach through fences and doors.

I turn around once again, tears striking my cheeks ever so quickly. That’s when I remembered my ‘no cry’ chant. Oh well. This is different.

The Undead were faster than I thought, they caught up to me so fast. Must be because of the blood or flesh. I don’t know. I’m not a scientist.

But I was trapped, again.

Where could I go? What would happen? I started to swing at one of the zombies but something happened. I didn’t know what because my skull was pounded to the road. There was blackness and blurs. I thought I saw stars but I knew I was being ridiculous. I open my eyes to see that one of the Undead fought back.

They jumped on top of me, which explains my head hitting the ground and why I have such a massive headache. I tried to get up quickly before they started tearing at my flesh and biting me. But when I did, I got dizzy and almost fell over. I no longer had the hatchet in my hands so I searched for an alternate. A stick? Anything? But I couldn’t find one.

The moans were echoing. My headache increasing. I thought I was going to die. I already saw the blackness. The zombies still surrounding me.

That’s when I heard shouts and talking. I was too dazed to know what was going on. I had already closed my eyes. It hurt too much to have them open. But I did hear slashes, moans, and thumping. I’m dead I thought. I had to be. Then I thought that was stupid. I wouldn’t be able to hear if I were dead.

So I did the only thing I could do. I prayed, silently. To whatever was out there. I didn’t know what I believed in anymore. But I prayed, and I prayed hard. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to be like them.

Next thing I knew, I heard “Its okay. Just hold on. Stay with me.”

Who was that? I thought everybody was dead. What’s going on? Maybe I was dead. But I dismissed that crazy idea. I refuse to believe I was dead. Hoping that as long as I believe I wasn’t, then I wouldn’t be.

The pain though, was excruciating. I was numb. Everything hurt. And I felt broken. Completely.

And then…