Dying to Live, Living to Die.

Kara laid on the bed with her daughter sleeping next to her peacefully, it had been the first time in months that they felt safe. They had found and abandoned house that seemed to be some what previously fortified but also abandoned, maybe the former owners died? Maybe they were taken over and ran? They would truly never know, she was just happy that her daughter was safe for the time being. The sound of shuffling feet out side of the window caused Kara to quickly glance in its direction, She knew that the dead couldnt get in, they couldn't climb anything.

The shuffling was followed by small grunts and low gurgles of the dead as it kept walking, groaning in search of its next meal. She could only imagine what it looked like, though they all seemed to look the same to her now a days, dead and fleshy. Some had dead skin hanging from their face exposing the bone and some of the rotten flesh that used to cover it, some had eyes hanging from their socket just hanging on for dear life, unable to do anything. They were all disgusting, limping and dragging their bodies in search of live flesh to feed on. Growling, clanking their teeth in hopes to grab on to you, reaching their arms out with their dead fingers in hopes to grab a piece of clothing and yank you back.

Her eyes shut immediately as the flash backs hit her of the death and the dead, all the people they have come across in such a short time, the ones who tried to have her killed and the one who had saved their lives more then once. A silent sighed escaped her lips as she thought of them, the people who risked their lives for her and her daughter. The ones who died in the process of keeping them alive, she owed them her life a thousand times over.

The movement next to her on the bed caused her to look over, her daughter had grown so much in a short two years. From a young child who was afraid of the dark, to a young child who was ready to kill at any moment, deep down it hurt Kara to no end to see her daughters child hood ripped right from her, being forced to grow and learn how to survive, instead of playing on the sidewalk with other kids.

Her hand traced her daughters cheek causing her to stir slightly and then roll over to where she was facing her back, licking her lips slowly her eyes went back over to the bedroom window and her hand went back to the gun resting on her stomach. No matter how safe a place seemed, she always had a gun and knife on hand ready to kill what needed to be killed, dead or alive.