Haunted

It's been months since this new life had started, the one where the dead become living. The one where I've encountered things, so evil, that it is literally a Hell on earth.

The Creepers have almost wiped out the entire living population. Although, what is left of us have hardened. It's the only way to survive this nothingness.

Either to change with it, or smother under the constant stressors of surviving. I had too, as much as I didn't want too.

Daryl was gone and so was Jaxon. It was just Mam, Pap, Ma, and me, left to fend for ourselves at the farm, which was left virtually untouched. A few straggling Creeps would wander in, but it's nothing we couldn't handle. I've been an outdoors girl all my life, and Daryl has done nothing but influence that.

Daryl.

That's all I seem to think about anymore. So much in fact that I've started seeing him - lurking - in places when I was alone. I've had to tell myself over and over again. That he's not there. He's just a figment of my imagination, anymore, as much as I prayed that he wasn't. This world had to have swallowed him, right? Because he'd be here with me.

Wouldn't he?

I had to tell myself he was dead, the thought of him being alive and not coming back to our home just to see if his family was still alive, just ate me alive on the inside. Had all those things that he had promised me, all been lies?

No. He couldn't do that to me. Not to Jaxon.

He didn't even know that Jaxon had been taken.

It's better for me to think of him as dead as well. My beautiful baby boy was probably ripped to shred by these things. The pain that he had to endure, the hunger that he might have felt, how scared he might have been. My heart breaks every passing day, as those disgusting thoughts infect what is left of a healthy mind.

I sigh, running a hand though the ever-growing red trundles, in a sad attempt to calm myself as Goliath keeps a steady pace underneath of me.

I often wonder if it's the world that’s going to kill me, or if my thoughts will catch up to me and smother me slowly.

A Creep has managed to get itself mangled in the first set of barbed wired electric fences, that was originally put up to keep out coyotes and other predators from preying on our livestock.

I stop the large horse and get off, telling him to stay put. He knows the drill by now, hell we've been doing this for God only knows how long. But still, I still feel reassured if I remind him. I grab the make shift spear I had made from the saddle pack, and make my way towards the gurgles and groans.

Its hands reach through the fence at me in a sad, pathetic attempt to grip its next meal. I inspect the poor bastard, seeing if I knew him. He was wearing a tattered mechanics shirt. I looked for the name tag, across the breast of his chest.

Hank.

As in Hank Smith, the local mechanic who owned a shop down on Bench Hollow Road. He had a wife, kids, and grandkids. He'd always show us pictures of them all when we'd go in to have some scheduled work done to the vehicles.

"Sorry, ol' Man" I mumble before raising the piece of iron and lurching it through an eye socket. His movements immediately halt before he falls lifelessly into the grass beneath him.

I reach underneath the fence and grab his foot, pulling him underneath the barbed wire. I continue to drag the dead weight to the small wagon I had attached to Goliath. I'd rather burn them afterwards, just to make sure.

Once my afternoon rounds were finished, I was unloading the few stragglers I had found into the Burn Pit we had made way before the apocalypse. Clearly we didn't use it for bodies then, but now it seems like a pretty damn good idea.

I stick some old pages of newspaper in various areas before dumping some 180 proof moonshine Daryl had stock piles of in the basement. I throw in a match as I hear footsteps come up behind me. I don't panic, knowing exactly who they belong too.

"Anyone you knew?" Ma asks as I take a large swig out of the Mason jar. The familiar burn and extreme bitter taste makes me almost spit it out.

Almost.

I nod my head and take another swig before offering her some, already knowing the answer.

"You know I don't drink anymore, honey" She looks down at the burning carcasses as I pull back my arm "That ship has sailed a long time ago"

"So has the rest of the world" I mumble tossing in the rest along with the jar, making the small fire build. It had rained a few days back, the clothing was most likely still damp.

I wrap my arms around myself, snuggling into my carhart. It's gotten colder these past few weeks, making Ma and I prepare for what the winter could bring. We bred the cattle, goats, pigs, sheep, and a few horses. Took the Mason Jars that we had stored in the barn, into the house to prevent freezing. I'm going to have to sickle some straw over the hill, to give to the animals here soon.

We had a small tractor, but it was loud. I didn't want to risk drawing in any creeps.

"Pap's catchin' a fever" She blurts out.

"Those antibiotics didn't help?" I ask looking her over. She wrapped herself in a freshly made wool poncho. Those things are quite warm.

She shook her head.

"I think he's getting pneumonia" she murmurs as she kicks a small rock into the burn pit. It seemed logical. "I didn't want to bother you with it, honey. I know you've been bustin' your tail to try and get this place ready for winter"

"Still" I huff "You should have told me"

I sigh and look up at the sky. It's a fairly sunny day, but it's definitely a chilly one. I probably have a good 5 hours until night fall. I'm just running over to the pharmacy, if I can't find what I'm looking for then I'll head to the Doctor's office.

"I'm goin' to check Pap" I say turning "Tack up Able for me please, and put the rubber boots on 'im."

"Why?" she pauses thinking over what I said "Den, it can wait 'til tomorrow"

"No, Ma" I turn back towards her "It can't. This ain't like it used to be. We need t' stop it now, 'fore it gets worse"

She sighs and looks at the ground, knowing I'm right.

I turn and head for the house. Looking at it from this angle you see a big beautiful farm house, one of the ones you would see in the magazines, sitting in front of a large cattle field. The Black Angus, Red Limousine, and the Jerseys are all but spots in that field.

We had a beautiful farm, that's for sure.

I walk through the front door and see Mam and Pap sitting in the living room, reading. Pap's fever was evident, sweaty and pale skin. Mam definitely looked worried.

"There's my farm girl" Pap rasps smiling up at me.

"You don't look to hot there Pap" I murmur grabbing my stethoscope, thermometer, and oxygen reader from the stand by the window, that holds the majority of the first aid supplies.

"I've had better days, but don't be worrin' 'bout ol' Pap" He says as I walk over to him "You got the farm to be handin'"

"No, no, Pap" I stick the thermometer in his mouth and turn it on "Health comes first and you know it"

He looked over his glasses at me, knowing he couldn't respond.

102.1

I sigh and stick the oxygen reader on his finger as I listen to his lungs. Yep, definitely pneumonia.

"I'll be back, I just gotta head into town and grab ya some medicine" I say making note of the 90% oxygen reading "And some oxygen"

He tries to detest but Mam's already on it.

"Quit bein' so damn stubborn you ol' coot" She wipes his face free of some sweat "and let the poor girl help ya"

I smirk as I turn, walking into the dining room to grab my pistols, my bow, and my sawed-off shot gun. I load them all, making sure to bring extra arrows and ammo. I dump the ammo into my pack before I grab the other bag to, incase I come across some decent medical supplies.

I sit down at the dining room table for a second, to gather my wits, grabbing a freshly made peanut butter cookie and scarfing it down. The small amount of alcohol I had consumed already had fogged my brain a little. It's not that I couldn't handle my liquor, it just that shit was potent.

Just liked Daryl liked it.