The Last of Us
One
Lyra
It’s hot out today. That kind of hot that sears your feet whether you’re wearing shoes or not and makes you feel like you’re melting into a big you puddle. It’s the worst kind of hot. It isn’t that nice hot that you get in the summer after 3 months of thick snow. It’s the kind of hot you get half way through the summer when the windows are jammed shut, you have no shorts, and the air conditioning is stuck on heat. Not fun, right? It’s worse when the only clothes you have are thick combat jeans and a long sleeved top and you’re walking for several hours straight out in the sun without many breaks. My life is living hell.
It’s been this way since the outbreak. We’ve lived with the same pair of clothes for months and months without stopping for new ones at a random empty house or a shop. I always feel bad for taking food and clothes. Myka says it’s useless feeling bad when there’s no one around to be upset over it: they’re either dead or a zombie mutant thing. I guess she has a point, but it still makes me feel bad.
“Lyra, we’re running low on supplies.” Myka says to me when we stop for a break and she pulls the food out of the bag. I frown, looking at the tiny amount of food we have left. “We’ve only got a few bullets left, too. We need weapons and food. Fast.” I nod, wiping sweat off of my forehead. I hate the heat. “We’ll go on a raid soon: as soon as we find somewhere. We need water or we’re going to die soon.” I nod, feeling like a small child who’s listening to the all-powerful Myka when really, I’m older than her by six months. Not that it matters anymore. Neither of us knows what date it is.
We carry on walking for hours until we finally come across a perfectly intact (well, on the outside) Wal-Mart. Myka and I drag ourselves to the door and push our weight onto it so we can actually get inside. Myka practically falls on the full and still sealed water bottles, gulping down half a bottle and handing it over to me. We shove as much canned and dried food as possible into our bag, along with a bunch of water and a couple of sharp knives. We make for the exit but stop dead in our tracks when we hear shuffling. Myka grabs a knife and makes sure I’m close behind her. The shuffling gets closer and louder. “Run.” She whispers. We both make a break for the door, stumbling and falling over almost every little obstacle there is. “HEY!” Yells a strong sounding, authorotive voice. “Keep going. He could be in the early stages of the change.”
“HEY! NO WAIT! I’M HUMAN!” We slow down and turn around, Myka baring her knife. “I’m human. I am with a group of seven other people. I didn’t mean to scare you: I thought you were mutant but when you ran away, that proved otherwise.” Myka gives him a sceptical look. “How do we know you’re not lying.”
“Do I look like I’m rotting to you?” I laugh a little and the man but Myka just rolls her eyes. “I guess not.”
“My name’s Phoran. And you?”
“Myka and Lyra.” Myka says, glaring at Phoran.
“Nice. Guys come out! They’re safe!” Phoran yells. A group of seven people come rushing over. “Oh my gosh, another human! I haven’t seen another human for over two years now! Oh wow! We thought we were the only ones left but now… My oh my…”
“Tessy. Shut up.” Says a tall, slightly scrawny but not too scrawny, blonde boy with sharp blue eyes. “I’m Syrrie. That’s Tessy. She’s the most annoying, whiney, squeaky little thing in this entire universe. She’s awful.” The boy – Syrrie – says, frowning.
“Oh, Syrrie, be nice.” Says a pretty girl with black hair. “She isn’t that bad.” Phoran gives her a look as if to say ‘you’re joking… right?’ and Syrrie rolls his eyes. “I’m Kayra. I’m 18, Syrrie’s 17 and Phoran’s 19. This is Leeyra, 13, Markalo, 16, Ronnie, 16, Nutra, 18, and Tessy is 19.” Phoran leans over to me.
“Tessy thinks we’re dating: I can’t stand her.” I giggle a little, earning myself a glare from Tessy and a hard look from Myka. “Thanks, but we really must be going now.”
“Myka!” I whine. “We have just found more humans. Why would we just walk away?”
“Yeah, Myka.” One of the boys, Markalo, says, looking my best friend up and down. Pervert. “Stay with us.” It takes a while but we eventually win her over. “Fine. But if anything happens, I’m leaving.”
It’s hot out today. That kind of hot that sears your feet whether you’re wearing shoes or not and makes you feel like you’re melting into a big you puddle. It’s the worst kind of hot. It isn’t that nice hot that you get in the summer after 3 months of thick snow. It’s the kind of hot you get half way through the summer when the windows are jammed shut, you have no shorts, and the air conditioning is stuck on heat. Not fun, right? It’s worse when the only clothes you have are thick combat jeans and a long sleeved top and you’re walking for several hours straight out in the sun without many breaks. My life is living hell.
It’s been this way since the outbreak. We’ve lived with the same pair of clothes for months and months without stopping for new ones at a random empty house or a shop. I always feel bad for taking food and clothes. Myka says it’s useless feeling bad when there’s no one around to be upset over it: they’re either dead or a zombie mutant thing. I guess she has a point, but it still makes me feel bad.
“Lyra, we’re running low on supplies.” Myka says to me when we stop for a break and she pulls the food out of the bag. I frown, looking at the tiny amount of food we have left. “We’ve only got a few bullets left, too. We need weapons and food. Fast.” I nod, wiping sweat off of my forehead. I hate the heat. “We’ll go on a raid soon: as soon as we find somewhere. We need water or we’re going to die soon.” I nod, feeling like a small child who’s listening to the all-powerful Myka when really, I’m older than her by six months. Not that it matters anymore. Neither of us knows what date it is.
We carry on walking for hours until we finally come across a perfectly intact (well, on the outside) Wal-Mart. Myka and I drag ourselves to the door and push our weight onto it so we can actually get inside. Myka practically falls on the full and still sealed water bottles, gulping down half a bottle and handing it over to me. We shove as much canned and dried food as possible into our bag, along with a bunch of water and a couple of sharp knives. We make for the exit but stop dead in our tracks when we hear shuffling. Myka grabs a knife and makes sure I’m close behind her. The shuffling gets closer and louder. “Run.” She whispers. We both make a break for the door, stumbling and falling over almost every little obstacle there is. “HEY!” Yells a strong sounding, authorotive voice. “Keep going. He could be in the early stages of the change.”
“HEY! NO WAIT! I’M HUMAN!” We slow down and turn around, Myka baring her knife. “I’m human. I am with a group of seven other people. I didn’t mean to scare you: I thought you were mutant but when you ran away, that proved otherwise.” Myka gives him a sceptical look. “How do we know you’re not lying.”
“Do I look like I’m rotting to you?” I laugh a little and the man but Myka just rolls her eyes. “I guess not.”
“My name’s Phoran. And you?”
“Myka and Lyra.” Myka says, glaring at Phoran.
“Nice. Guys come out! They’re safe!” Phoran yells. A group of seven people come rushing over. “Oh my gosh, another human! I haven’t seen another human for over two years now! Oh wow! We thought we were the only ones left but now… My oh my…”
“Tessy. Shut up.” Says a tall, slightly scrawny but not too scrawny, blonde boy with sharp blue eyes. “I’m Syrrie. That’s Tessy. She’s the most annoying, whiney, squeaky little thing in this entire universe. She’s awful.” The boy – Syrrie – says, frowning.
“Oh, Syrrie, be nice.” Says a pretty girl with black hair. “She isn’t that bad.” Phoran gives her a look as if to say ‘you’re joking… right?’ and Syrrie rolls his eyes. “I’m Kayra. I’m 18, Syrrie’s 17 and Phoran’s 19. This is Leeyra, 13, Markalo, 16, Ronnie, 16, Nutra, 18, and Tessy is 19.” Phoran leans over to me.
“Tessy thinks we’re dating: I can’t stand her.” I giggle a little, earning myself a glare from Tessy and a hard look from Myka. “Thanks, but we really must be going now.”
“Myka!” I whine. “We have just found more humans. Why would we just walk away?”
“Yeah, Myka.” One of the boys, Markalo, says, looking my best friend up and down. Pervert. “Stay with us.” It takes a while but we eventually win her over. “Fine. But if anything happens, I’m leaving.”