Luca: RunningMature

I ran until I was too exhausted to move. They never fucking gave up. I guess a few might have gotten bored, but I swear more joined in as I went. I tried taking to the roof tops, but more than a few followed and since they were the clever ones, they also managed to somehow let the rest on the ground know where I was. Fuck could these things run when they wanted to.

At one point I thought I was never going to lose them. ‘This is it,’ I thought, ‘I’m a dead man. Why the fuck did I do that? I’d have left anyone else there to die.’

Finally, finally, I lost them. I was way out of town. Totally lost. But so were the walkers. Or maybe we should call them runners. Either way they were gone, fooled so easily. They might have noticed me getting up onto the roofs because fire escapes are noisy. Leaping through that small gap between the carriages of a train? Silent. A few of them didn’t notice and slammed into the side of the train. I didn’t stop there though. I’d just kept running until I was certain that every last one was off my trail.

When I was alone, lost in the middle of nowhere, I collapsed by the side of a main road somewhere outside of another town, by the looks of it. If a zombie had come and found me, I couldn’t have done a thing about it other than cuss at it.

Eventually I recovered enough to move again. I got up, my muscles burning, shaking and dizzy, forcing myself forwards into this new place.

It was emptier than the town I’d just left. Felt it anyway. Didn’t mean shit, though. They were probably all hiding. They were good at that. I found this tiny little house right on the edge, the front garden all over grown and the windows broken. It was probably one of those sweet, quaint little places before all this. Now it was just a mess. I forced open the door, sweeped the place quickly and found it blissfully empty. Using the last of the strength I had left in me, I bordered up the doors and windows as best I could with what was left there and curled up on the floor to sleep.

 

I don’t know how long I slept. Judging by how hungry and thirsty I was when I woke up, it had been at least a day. I was amazed nothing had found me here. I was doubly amazed I was still fucking alive. My arm was hurting like a bitch, but as I moved, it was just one extra throb in a crowd of throbbing. Everything hurt.

Letting out a groan, I shuffled into the kitchen, slower than a walker – I felt like one, too. I let the tap run until the water coming out of it was vaguely clean, and just stuck my head under the stream. The water ran into my hair, over my eyelids and into my mouth, and it felt fucking good. A cold shower would have made me happy enough, and after I’d found a tin of pineapple to eat, I went upstairs to do exactly that.

I was even lucky enough to find a change of clothes that near enough fitted me. Though I still wasn’t really in any sort of shape to even think about heading back yet, I felt better. Well, I felt better til I peeled the dressings off my arms and saw what a fucking mess it was. The stitches were just about holding my skin together where my flesh was swollen and turned a nasty shade of purple. That didn’t look healthy. It kinda smelt, too.

Trying my best to ignore it for a moment, I went down to the kitchen again and found myself some sea salt to make a saline solution – for all the good it might do. I think it was a bit beyond salt water helping it, but I had to try. It wasn’t like I had Sophia around to fix it for me. Though if I ever went back there I’m not sure my temper would hold out. I gritted my teeth as I washed the bite mark, unsure if it was from the pain or because I wanted to punch something just thinking about her.

“Why the fuck did you run off? You stupid bitch!” I yelled at the wall, giving into the temptation to smash my fist into it. Bottling up my anger wasn’t going to help, I reasoned to myself afterwards as I bathed my knuckles in the salt water too.

When I’d calmed down enough to keep a level head if I came across any zombies, I ventured outside, on the hunt for a shop, or somewhere that might have some food. I felt sick to my stomach, and it wasn’t all the hunger. 

The End

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