All is Fair in Love & Apocalyptic Survival

I am running through a forest. Fire and smoke are billowing around me... a twig snaps under my feet. The wind is whipping my hair around my face. I can feel the heat of my burning hometown against my back. Tears are streaming down my face. I can't breathe.

      I wake up in a cold sweat. I've tried so hard to forget these things. These deaths. Unfortunately, that's not going to be possible. I take a deep breath, breathing in the musty scent of my shelter. It smells of smoke and ash. Get up, Izzy, I tell myself. Eat food, Izzy. Today I'm looking for survivors. I make my bed, moss pillow and all.  Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I step out into what used to be my city.

I don’t make it far. Everything is different. The usual green grass and flowers have been incinerated. The lush trees smoking with heat. An abundance

of scorched objects litter the ground. A doll. A jacket. A hairbow.

That's when I see her. A little girl, covered in dirt and grime, with wounds and burn marks, crying. She couldn't have been more than nine. She was leaning against a tree- or what used to be a tree- her mottled sky blue dress hanging sadly to her knees. I looked at her. Our eyes met. She yelped, standing up and backing away. She was clearly hungry, and had nothing to keep her sane.

She whimpered.

"Do you need help?" What a stupid thing to say, I thought, of course she needs help!

I took a step closer. She inched farther back. That's when we saw him. A boy, my age, sprinting through the forest towards. "GEORGIA!" He screamed. "RUN!" The girl- presumably Georgia- stood up and bolted in my direction. I knew that whatever we were running from was going to be faster than her. I picked her up, slung her onto my back, and sprinted to the nearest tree, climbing it like an expert.

    That's when we noticed what we were running from. A panther, black fur gleaming in the sunlight, sprinting towards us at the speed of light. It was gaining on the boy, who had not yet made it to where we were. I looked at the girl. She looked about ready to cry again when she saw that the boy wasn't going to make it in time. Without thinking, I  jumped down from the tree and ran straight for the danger.

I took out my pocket knife, brushed the blonde hair out of my face, and threw the knife with perfect aim right between the eyes of the panther. I don’t remember what happened next.

Because everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up was probably one of the most painful things I’ve ever endured, aside from breaking my leg. At least then, it hurt enough to put me in shock, though. My entire body ached with every breath. When I took too deep a breath, a searing pain shot through my head. I opened my eyes. I was in my shelter? 

“How- why- when- what!?” I say, feeling a bandage around my head. I look around. My shelter was clean, the supports no longer burdened by ash and leaves, the floor covered in new layers of moss, a neat shelving area from charred wood- probably leftover from a burnt house or store- was lined with trinkets and bottles and even the doll I had seen earlier. Most importantly, though, the picture of my family that I keep in my backpack was sitting atop the shelf in a frame. Then I heard the voices.  

“I’m going to go check if she’s awake! I don’t care if you think she’s dangerous! She saved my life!” A voice hissed, somewhere to the right of my home.

“But we don’t know her! We can’t trust anyone anymore!” Another voice whisper-shouted.

“I DON”T CARE!” The same voice from earlier said. The boy my age- that I saved- opened the curtain of vines and flexible sticks that is my door. “Oh. You're awake.” 

I nodded, wincing at the movement. “Yes. And your welcome.” I say, shooting a pointed look at him.

He put his hands up in mock surrender. “Uh, now we’re even. You save my life, I save yours.”

“Fine. We’re even. For now. Now, what happened after I stabbed the panther?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “A large tree limb- barely holding after the fire- fell on you after Georgia backed against it. She still thinks you could be dangerous, by the way. Oh, and I’m Jamie, Georgia is my little sister.”

“Well, that’s a lot of info. Is that why my head hurts so bad? A concussion, I’m guessing. I’ve probably been unconscious for at least a day.” I say, recalling my first aid lessons. 

“Huh. Yeah.”

“Erm… thanks. You know, for helping me.”

“Right back atcha.” Jamie says, flashing a small grin. I felt my cheeks heat up. My olive green eyes darted to the floor. “Thanks for organizing my shelter. You didn’t have to.” 

He shrugged. “It was a mess.” He added quickly, “No offense!” 

“None taken. We have more pressing matters. I have a small storage of food, it will last the three of us a few days. I know where a little stream is, I can help get Georgia washed up. We need to find more food, look for survivors and supplies, and generally learn to survive.”

I think it was at that moment when we decided we would always be a team.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Two Months Later~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Georgia! Hurry up! Today’s the day!” Larry shouted. We found Larry at his own shelter not too far from here, and let’s just say we scared the shit out of each other when we found each other. We thought he was a bear. And he thought we were a  bear. Simple misunderstanding.  

Larry was in his late thirties, he was a big burly man, with a scraggly beard. He called again, “Hurry up! We need to meet them!”

Meet who, you may be asking? A few days after I healed from my concussion entirely (about a month ago) we found papers nailed to ashy trees saying that if you were reading this, meet the other survivors at where the fountain in the park used to be. Today was that day. Georgia just had to finish packing, then we would be on our way. 

“Coming!” Georgia said, stepping out of our cleaned-out shelter. 

We walked for what seemed like ages. Then we heard voices through the trees. “Do you think anyone survived? It’s been a while. I think we should move out and to the next town.”

“WAIT!” Two voices said. One was mine. The other? A boy. He was maybe Georgia’s age, with freckles and dark brown hair and brown eyes. All of our groups- the boy, me, Jamie, Georgia, and the about fourteen people who had posted the notes, seemed to make eye contact. Some started laughing hysterically. Some cried. But me? I stood up on my tip toes and kissed Jamie.