Sam: My FaultMature

Just a few minutes after the raiders cleared out, I saw a guy carrying a katana and a rifle walk up to the market. I raised my rifle, expecting this to be some more raider scum, but he didn't look as scruffy as any of them. I lowered my weapon - but not my guard - and went out to greet him. He was probably about my age, with blonde hair and a side fringe, dark blue eyes, and pale skin. He had an average build - not bony but didn't have a lot of muscle to him, either.

"What do you want?" I asked, wondering how many more people would come along and join my little group of survivors.

"I just need a place to stay," he said. "My name's Dwayne."

"Sam," I said. "Sam Keller."

I showed him a place where he could stay, and when he was settled in, I introduced him to the others. Then, I realized that Greg was missing.

"Hey, where's Greg?" I asked Amy.

"I don't know, he must have gone out before I woke up." She looked around her sleeping area, then the level of distress in her voice rose. "He took my shotgun."

"Shit....." I ran out to go after the kid and find him, and almost got my head torn off by a stray zombie. I quickly dispatched it before getting on my motorcycle and driving away. I knew exactly where he would've gone, and probably why.

When I arrived at my destination a little way from the store, I found Greg's body, shotgun at his side, a bag of petrol bombs partially underneath him and a bullet hole through his head. I retrieved Amy's shotgun and mounted my bike once again. I rode back to the store at top speed and found Amy and Dwayne standing there, waiting.

"Greg's dead." That was all I could manage, the blunt truth. I had failed to protect someone that had come to me for safety.

"We should retrieve the body," she said. " and bury him. He deserves that much. He was a good kid."

"Right," I said. "But it has to be well enough away from here, just to be sure. Dwayne, you and I should go get the body. Amy, you stay here. Stay inside. Don't answer for anyone. Anyone. That means even people that look fine. Okay?"

"No, I want to come with you!"

"Someone's got to stay here and watch the place."

"Fine," she said. "I'll stay here." With that, she turned around and went inside, sitting in the back with her shotgun.

"Alright, Dwayne, we're going to have to take something bigger than my bike. What have you got, anything?"

"No, I've been mostly on foot."

"Okay. In that case, we'll have to make the best of what we've got. We're going to have to make a simple wagon of some kind that attaches to the bike. It has to be sturdy, though."

"Right. I can set to work on that," he said, heading off to get some wood planks and other construction supplies we might need. I stood watch out front.

When the wagon was completed, I hopped on the motorcycle and Dwayne rode in the cart. We grabbed Greg's body, carrying him over to the cart, and placed him inside nicely. Then, Dwayne got back in the wagon with Greg and I drove back to the market.

We buried his body in the parking lot, since there was a patch of grass in the center that didn't seem to have been disturbed too much. We dug a hole a few feet deep and then Dwayne and I lowered Greg into it gently. We didn't exactly have a coffin, and the wagon wasn't quite big enough to fit his body in it right for a makeshift one, so we were forced to bury him like that. We all said a few words, and then we went back inside.

This was just another sign that this whole disaster was my fault.

The End

16 comments about this exercise Feed