Chapter Seven : Rath

Idon’t know how long I’ve been sprawled on the cold floor, staring at the ceiling, mind blank.
It’s the sharp bite of cold air creeping through the broken window that finally stirs me -- not sunlight, no, but the heavy black of night pressing against the glass. I squeeze my eyes shut, unwilling to let go of the weightless, blank space I’ve floated into. Waking up means remembering. And I’m not ready to remember.
But then again, was I ready for a zombie apocalypse?
No.
I should’ve stayed locked in my room, pretending the world outside was still intact. Maybe then I wouldn’t have had to see what I saw. Maybe then I could’ve clung to the faint, foolish hope that Taylor was out there -- alive, surviving somehow. I could’ve lived with that. Not this.

I wonder if anyone else made it out. If they ran, if they hid, if they’re still fighting. My chest tightens painfully, a knot twisting deeper than hunger, deeper than thirst. I drag myself upright, blinking against the blinding window. A sharp throb explodes at the back of my skull, and it hits me just how long it’s been since I last drank water -- a whole day, maybe more.

My eyes land on the bottle by the wall. The bottle that Taylor was drinking from before he...well you know turned into one of those flesh eating monsters. I can't risk drinking from that. I don't know the specifics of this infection after all.
So I stay there, sitting on the floor, surrounded by a wrecked room and memories I can’t run from, thirst gnawing at me, and dread curling cold in my stomach.
Outside, the world has changed.
Inside, I wonder how much longer I can keep pretending I haven’t.

I guess it's time for me to make peace with the fact that maybe all of them are gone. I have to become an entity who's sole purpose is to survive. Maybe when I reach a safe space where I no longer have to dread my death any second now, I could finally grieve. Until then, I'm gonna have to get my act together. This is not the space or time.

So what do I do now? I know what I need to. I really need need to piss.
So I do. Out the damn window. Privileges of the apocalypse, I guess. No need to be all civil and s**t.
Okay, next. I need food. I'm hungry as f**k. I rummage through the backpack I brought with me. I have a protein bar and thank f*****g god, a water bottle. I had entirely forgotten that I packed it. I can't eat everything like a f*****g idiot though, I need to ration. I gobble half the protein bar and take few sips of water all while planning what to do next in my head. Stating the obvious, I need to get out of this room and look for food and most probably a way out of the campus.

I'm clueless about the situation outside my door. How the f**k do I get out if my corridor is full of zombies. Worse, what if Taylor's out there. Well that would just make things 100x better wouldn't it?

I don't think zombies can see all too well at night, can they? And I'm sure the generator's long dead by now. So no lights. I can see well in low light I think? So maybe… maybe sneaking out at night is my best shot. Well considering the alternative(aka starving to death), I haven't got much of a choice here.

I push myself up. I’m done waiting. Done hiding. If I die, I die. At least I could die trying.

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat, each beat crashing into my skull like a hammer. The migraine’s back, worse than before, gnawing at the edges of my vision. But I grit my teeth and press on, creeping down the corridor.

Moonlight spills faintly through the narrow windows, painting the floor in pale silver. Just enough to make out the shapes -- the broken furniture, the sagging wallpaper, the slow, shuffling figures.

Not many zombies here, thankfully. I was right -- they can’t see for s**t in the dark.
But can they smell me? I'm not getting close enough to find out. I slip past, careful not to breathe too loud, careful not to let the migraine throw off my balance.

Near the entrance now. Almost there. Just a little further--
Clink.
My blood runs cold. A soda can rolls lazily across the floor, the sound slicing through the silence like a knife.
S**t.
A low growl rumbles nearby.
The zombie near the front snaps its head toward me.
Well, f**k it. No turning back now. I tighten my grip on the curtain rod in my hand. If I go down, I’m going down fighting.