The end of the end of the world

I can’t help that I’m the stupidest person on Earth. Well, that’s pretty easy considering that I’m the last person actually alive here, or at least the last person who isn’t a zombie.

It all started when the sun rose on the wrong side of the Earth, but you already know that. When did I leave the story off? Oh yeah, I was hiding in the chicken den. Man, I wish things were that simple now. So many things have happened since then. I don’t even know how many years have passed, let’s just say a lot.

A few days after the chicken coop/huge zombie horde chasing me incident, I ran into a small group of survivors, I ended up traveling with them for a while. They were a nice group of people.

Around three months after I joined them, we were ambushed by a huge group of zombies, we started calling them hordes. One person got bit as we were trying to escape them. Instead of turning into one of them, he said that he would go into the woods and kill himself there. Me, being very dumb, again, said that I would do it for him, that no one should ever have to do it themselves. 

One by one, my new friends got bitten and died. I must have a curse or something because a month of being on my own later, I ran into another, bigger group of survivors. Apparently they were fighting against another group of survivors. Which, in my opinion was really dumb, they should’ve just worked together. Anyways, they all ended up dying. I know I’m making it sound bland and as if I didn’t care about them. But when you’re in an apocalypse, you find it easier to not get attached to anyone or anything. Sure I miss them, and regret not being able to save any of them, but I tried my best and did what I could. 

So, after that, I was on my own again. I’ve been on my own ever since. I ran into a few other people, but decided against traveling with them. My heart couldn’t take any more loss. 

I was travelling around America, relying on signs to know which state I was in. Not that it really mattered, it’s just nice to know where you are when the world has literally ended. 

I was lucky enough to find a map in one of the souvenir shops so I decided I’d head back to my old house. The house I was living in before this all started. 

That’s where I am now, well, I’m on my way there. If I’ve been following the map correctly, I should be close. 

I tried to take an indirect route, the zombies tend to hang around the main streets and big cities. 

I look up at the sky, it’s getting dark. I set up camp quickly, I’ve had lots of practice. I learned a while ago to not set a fire at night, it attracts the zombies. Apparently they still had enough human left in them to know when they were cold and needed a heat source. Or they were just attracted to bright and shiny things. Probably the latter. 

I fall asleep quickly, walking all day does things to a woman. Actually, it would even do things to a man. If there is still one alive. 

I learned a while ago how to sleep lightly, before all this I was a very deep sleeper and could sleep through an earthquake, literally, I’ve done it before, when I was younger. 

Now, I wake at the slightest sound, whether it be a twig snapping, or a big gust of wind. I’ve woken up many times with a zombie or two roaming around my temporary camp site. 

I slept through the night, and cleaned up my camp in the morning. Then I was on my way again. 

I’m a mix of emotions as I see the sign that is at the entrance to my neighborhood. I feel excited and happy to be back, but also nervous and a bit sad. Nervous because I have no idea what my house’ll look like or if any one will be there, or if someone I used to know is a zombie. Sad because there’s a certain thing about going to your old place after so much has happened. After going through a lot and changing. I bet that if I looked in the mirror, I wouldn’t recognize myself. 

I still remember the layout of my house. Of the house that my 18 year old self bought when I finally had the chance to get away from my parents. 

I stop walking, look up at my old house and grab the keys I still had out of my backpack.  I can say that I’ve done one thing smart at least, I locked my door before I left and kept the keys in the bottom of my bag. The amount of houses that I’ve crashed in that had the front door unlocked. 

I take a deep breath and walk up to the front of my house. I unlock my door and step inside. 

I’m instantly hit with a wave of nostalgia and look around. It’s all the same, no one has stolen anything. Good thing I locked the door. 

I close the door behind me and lock it again. I take a few steps forward, my hands trailing on the surfaces of my furniture. 

I’m about to sit on my couch for the first time in however many years, when I hear a noise from upstairs. 

I freeze and grab the dagger strapped to my belt, it might be a zombie. Correction, it probably is a zombie. 

I slowly walk up the staircase, holding the dagger ready, I’ve become pretty good at using it. I open the door to the guest room, which is where I think the sound came from and am suddenly slammed against the wall, something cold pressed up against my neck. 

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” A voice asked in my ear. 

“I could ask you the same question. You are, after all, in my house.” I shoot back even though there’s a dagger against my throat. 

We both agree to not kill the other and the man let’s go of me. I put my dagger back onto my belt to show him that I’ll honor the agreement we made. He does the same.

“Let’s start over.” He offers. “My name is William, nice to meet you.” 

“Jennifer.” I respond and shake the hand he held out. 

“I haven’t seen another human in so long.” William admits. 

“Me too.” Jennifer agrees.  

Jennifer suggests that they sit on the couch while they talk since she was tired from all the talking she was doing.

The two sit down on the couch and start to get to know the other person, both of their voices a bit rough and croaky from not being used for so long.