When the Dead CameMature

*NOTE: For National Security purposes, names have been changed and locations have been excluded. The following is the story of eighteen year old Kita Owens.

When Kita met Blake, everything seemed perfect. But things began to change and before she knew it, her old life was over.

Now her and the fellow survivors have to do all they can to get rescued before its too late.

Is there any chance for humanity?

I remember the day I met Blake perfectly; as well as I know the back of my hand in fact. I met him at the supermarket, ironically enough. It was my day off and like an idiot, I decided to go shopping anyway. The new girl was having such problems with the cash register that she stormed off, telling anyone who would listen that she was going to college and didn't need to demote herself to such lower-class jobs. I rolled my eyes and dutifully hopped over the counter to take her place. I waved off the manager who had stormed over and told her it was my overtime.

I reset the register and turned to the customer. "I'm sorry about that, she's new and..." I broke off when I saw his face. He was probably the most beautiful person I had ever seen, with hair so blond it was white and piercing grey eyes.

He smiled kindly at me, "It's fine; I'd rather have you do it anyway." I tried to hide a blush as I rang up his groceries.

"That will be $28.53." I said automatically and took his money. I wasn't used to people paying with cash, but it made the whole transaction much easier. "You're not from around here, are you?" I asked, not much caring if he thought I was rude.

He grinned sheepishly, "Is it that obvious?" I shrugged. "I'm actually from Chicago. I came down to visit my grandparents."

"Oh you're from the big city eh? I bet you don't like our small town very much then."

He smiled, "It's not that bad. Not a lot to do, but at least I don't have to worry about getting shot."

I laughed, "Just don't go outside during hunting season."

I heard a honk from outside and he blushed, "That would be granny, I'd better go. I'll see you around maybe?"

"Yeah, definitely." He walked out the door and I realized my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"Ooooh you like him!" I heard a woman say behind me.

I turned around, "Mrs. Greyson, nice to see you."

The elderly lady smiled mischievously, "Ask him to dinner!"

I rolled my eyes, "Paper or plastic?"

I was at work the next day when the mysterious boy showed up again. Instead of shopping, he came straight over to the counter I was working. "Forget something?" I asked, hoping that wasn't the case.

"I uh...uh well...I actually...cametotalktoyou..." the last five words he ran together so fast that I wasn't sure what he said.


He took in a breath and chewed his lip, "I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime...."

I looked at my watch, "I have lunch break in twelve. You can come out back with me and share my sandwich if you want."

He let out a breath I didn't know he'd been holding, "Sure!"

A customer walked up and he backed away to let me work. "Hello Mrs. Spencer, how's your day been?"

She chuckled, "Me and Mrs. Greyson are making brownies later." She nodded towards the item in her cart.

I rang up the carton of milk and she handed me the money, "I'll have to tell Frannie she was right."

"About what?" I asked, being polite.

"She kept telling me that boy was gonna come back and ask you out." She grinned covertly.

I let out an exasperated sigh. So Mrs. Greyson had been talking. Her gossip-buddy began walking towards the door, "Bye Mrs. Spencer, tell Frannie hello for me."

She chuckled and glanced at the boy, "Don't worry I will."

The bell rang, letting me know it was time for lunch so I grabbed my paper bag and led the way outside. The boy followed me and we took a seat on the concrete steps out back. "So," I said when I handed him half my sandwich, "You never did tell me your name."

"Oh yeah, I'm Blake."

I waited for a few seconds but he didn't say anything else, so I went ahead and spoke up, "I'm Kita."

"That's a pretty name." He said through a mouthful of turkey and cheese.

"Thanks," I said, "My mom's real big into 'cultural heritage' and all that. My name's Native American."

"Oh that's cool. My name's white-ass cracker." I snorted, nearly drowning myself on my soda. He laughed, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. But that really hurt!" I frowned while rubbing my stinging nose.

"Sorry." I looked over and saw his face turned into the most pitiful puppy-dog face I'd ever seen, which caused another bout of hysterical laughter.

"You're insane." I concluded. "Where have you been all my life?"

The End

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