For Anthony
Plague of the Desert
By
Alli Rayfield
Chapter 1
I keep thinking that I’m going to wake up from this nightmare. That the living dead were all just a bad dream. That the last six months haven’t been a living hell. Everyday has been a fight to survive and in all honesty, I’m extremely tired.
It never really ends. The fear, the stress, the waiting. Waiting for them to attack, waiting for the cure. Though a cure seems more unlikely every day that passes. I haven’t even seen an official government institution still up and running. They took away everything. They destroyed everything. The few people they didn’t destroy have to figure out a new way to live, a new way to survive.
I’ve spent the last six months at an apartment complex that was converted into a safe haven. As safe as one can hope for during these times of zombies seeking out flesh to eat. It was never my intention to stay there very long. My friend Emma and I were going to stay temporarily and then make our way to California. After a week, I couldn’t get Emma to leave. She felt safe and she was already shacking up with the second in command of the safe haven. I didn’t have the means to leave on my own, though it pained me to stay.
I was supposed to meet my sister Shelly in California. Though deep down I knew she never made it there herself. The likelihood that she made it off of Guam seems very low. I still have hope she’s alive and as well as can be on Guam but I know she didn’t make it stateside.
I still keep my cell phone on me at all times, which is utterly ridiculous. I know it is. I use a car charger to keep it charged. In case by some miracle the towers start working again and I get that call from her. The one letting me know she’s survived this mess and that she’s okay and that there are people who care about her and will take care of her. I still think she’s alive, as weird as it may sound, I still feel that she is. I think if she was gone, I’d feel it somehow. Like when I broke my arm and she said she felt a pain in her right arm at the exact same time even though she was in her English class. Some people you’re deeply connected too and no time or distance can change that.
I try to keep myself busy. I work on the cars at the safe haven and go on runs with Ian. Ian doesn’t like being at the safe haven any more than I do. This is why we have spent roughly the last three months planning our escape. We have a Chevy Van that we keep locked up in an abandoned garage and stock it on every run. We have enough stocked to make it for a while. The only reason we haven’t left yet is because I’m hoping to get Emma to come with us. I know that if I’m honest with myself that won’t happen. She doesn’t see the safe haven the same way we do. She still thinks it’s a safe place. I think it’s a dictatorship that is run by a mad woman and her annoying son. The son that Emma is infatuated with. I can’t tell if her fascination with him is genuine. I don’t know if its sex, love, or that keeping herself in his good graces keeps her protected from his wrath and higher on the totem pole than the rest of us.
My mind tends to wander a lot and analyze the way things have turned out. It’s not always the best thing since to survive one must be vigilant. I think I owe most of my survival to Ian. Ian who was at that moment was rummaging through a case in the back of a grocery store while I tried to keep look out.
It was hard to find any food in grocery stores anymore as most of them were picked clean. The best things were usually to hunt, grow veggies and fruit, or raid vending machines. Though the vending machines were difficult and usually required making a lot more noise than one would want when trying to avoid the undead. And for some reason that I could not understand, Aaron and Laura would not start a hunting group.
However, on our way back to the safe haven Ian noticed a Safeway we’d never tried before and wanted to check it out. The aisles as expected were empty, except for the occasional wrapper or splatter of blood. Zombies had been here at one point and they had fed on someone, probably many someones. They appeared to have moved on but there was never a guarantee. Quiet scared me more than the growling, more than the smell that followed the undead. The quiet was unsettling. But if they weren’t around, you had to stay quiet. It was never ending silence. I missed life, the way it was. Loud music, loud engines, just the noise of life that disappeared. That’s what happens when the dead walk the earth.
“How’s it coming in there?” I asked Ian.
“Not so great,” he replied. “This place has been picked clean.”
I looked into the storage room. Ian was wiping sweat off his brow. His beautiful dark skin glistening with sweat. It was very humid out. We both thought it might rain and wanted to get back to the safe haven before it did. I wanted to make it back to make sure the mason jars I had on my back porch worked as I had hoped and weren’t knocked over by my dog Milo or taken by someone else.
Water had been in short supply as of late. Being in the desert was not the best in an apocalyptic situation. I decided to keep the jars out in case it
