Berry picking

My name is Berry. I’m a twenty-four year old woman doing her very best to become a veterinarian. I’m in my fourth year now, it’s going so well! At least, it was… Until they came. Yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard the stories and I know I’m not alone. Everyone had to minorly adjust their lives, of course, when the zombies arrived. It wasn’t even a surprise, really. We were all having dinner when the newscaster announced a man had ‘risen from the dead’ and that it was infectious. So, naturally everyone started making their preparations. I mean, let’s be real here, it’s the twenty-first century. Everyone has seen the movies, read the books and played the games. Hell, I bet there’s even some musicals about those brain-craving dummies out there. If not, I know exactly what I’m going to be doing when all of this blows over. I can already envision it: Berry Lester’s debut in Broadway.

But, I’m getting off-topic. Just like the rest of the sane people, I took shelter too. I went to visit my mother, she lived alone and I wanted to see her one last time in case this whole zombie thing turned south. I arrived with the necessary supplies to sustain both her plus myself and she was so delighted to see me. I must admit, I hadn’t acquired the food and medicine by… lawful means. But a zombie crisis automatically translates to ‘everything is up-for-grabsies’, right? Oh, don’t hold it against me, I’m sure you’ve done some no-good things yourself and look at me: I’m not judging you! Well, maybe just a little.

Anyways, her house was this wonderful cabin in the woods. Yeah, yeah, I know. Picking a place like that, I must've deserved whatever I had coming for me, right? Maybe so, but I took that risk for my mom. I suppose that’s a cause respected by some, only called foolish by a whole lot more. I understand that, especially when you realize the stuff I went through during my time here so far. Supplies run out, of course. That’s, like, survival 101. I was prepared for this, I had the plans necessary to obtain more in the most efficient ways. To my relief, the town closest to my mother’s cabin was only three miles away. The people there had managed to set up a relatively decent society so it was quite easy to obtain food for my mother. I’m not a big eater myself, but she’s old and frail. I’m worried the shortest period of being underfed could kill her, so I try to keep her topped off.

Leaving the cabin is always one of the hardest things to do. I check if I locked everything about five times and then I’m still unsure. Bit of an OCD thing going on, but I suppose that’s what a zombie apocalypse does to a girl. Some people have it way worse. Even when I’m sure everything is locked, I still worry of course. I mean, raiders aren’t exactly known to abide by the laws that forbid breaking and entering. Pretty sure my mom knows where the rifle is but I doubt that’ll be of much use in her condition. It all comes down to me, so when I’m not there, she could be in grave danger. I tend to keep my trips to the town short but sometimes complications arrive and I have to stay a while. Like that one time this old fart accused me of killing a man when I really just found him like that. Sure, I popped his head but that was just to be sure. You get that, right?

When I arrived back to the house that next day, I didn’t really tell mother about how I found the man. I don’t think she would’ve cared anyway. I don’t know, maybe it was the hunger that was now starting to get to both of us. Yeah, three miles isn’t a lot, but walking it sure gets my stomach growling. Whenever I eat something, it’s usually canned beans. Easy to find, nutritious as all hell and honestly? Pretty damn tasty for a post-zombie dish. At first, my mother was really into them as well, but after maybe the fifteenth can or so she lost appetite for them. Understandable, but a bit difficult when it’s a matter of survival or death.

So the last time I went out for food was like three days ago. Everything seemed to go quite well, but when I got back the same day… That’s when things went wrong. The cabin was surrounded by that wretched herd that arrived while I was gone. Pounding against the door, cracking the thin glass of the old windows and scraping against the walls. There must’ve been at least thirty of them, more than I’ve ever seen clumped together in the forest. They really never went this far. The noises they made were enough to rock the wooden walls of this cabin. I mean, sure it’s an old building so it wouldn’t take much to send it shaking, but it was horrifying nonetheless.

I’m still unsure what exactly brought them here, maybe you would know? I think it’s my mother who attracted them. She’s not too bright when it comes to these survival

situations, can’t really keep her yapper shut. I still love her a lot, but I’d lie if I said there weren’t moments where I thought it’d be better if I just… You know. Obviously I could never bring myself to do such a thing, though. And when the herd arrived it was too late for such measures anyway, I had to think of a different plan.

At some point, one of them stepped into a beartrap I had set before. Kept at least fifteen of them scattered throughout the yard. Not that well-hidden, but good enough for zombies. The yells sent shivers down my spine, but this was the moment I needed. Once the others turned their gaze towards the noise’s culprit, I snuck around back and entered the cabin via the cellar. My original plan was to just grab my rifle and start taking them down one by one, but my eyes fell upon a barrel of gasoline that I had never realized was there. Thinking back to it now, I would’ve probably been better off just saving it… But adrenaline kicked in. Thank god it wasn’t completely filled, for I had to carry that thing up the stairs.

Without giving proper thought, I rolled it through the window. It fell in the middle of the group and before they could realize what was going on, I shot it. Flames spurted everywhere, almost setting the cabin ablaze. But, alas, nothing went wrong. In fact, I don’t think I even hit any of them. It was enough to send them running, though. They must’ve thought I had more. After they had abandoned the site, I went outside to check on the damages.

And… That’s when we met, wasn’t it? You were the one who stepped into the trap, unable to run like the others. You were the only one unlucky enough to not get away. Once again, I’m sorry about that. Those traps really were for zombies, I promise! Not my fault you and your buddies decided to peek where you shouldn’t be. Hate to break it to you though, but breaking your leg is a death sentence under these conditions. Believe it or not, but I would absolutely nourish that wound if the circumstances were as they used to be. In fact, I have the proper painkillers and disinfectants here to do just that.

Unfortunately, my mother has gotten increasingly hungry and since her face started rotting, she no longer likes the beans.