Soon, the darkness shrouded us, hiding us from the hungry gazes of our predators. I could hear the whines and groans of zombies behind the brush. My friend was beside me, Elaine. Her knees scathed and her baggy clothes were tattered.

“Are they still there?” She spoke in a low voice.

“Well you can hear them can’t you?” I harshly whispered back. Maybe a bit too loud?

One of the zombies heads whipped around at the sound.

“Shit.” We both murmur at once.

While climbing to our feet, a dozen more zombies begin to charge at us. We’re bombarded by their fierce and hungry stare.

“Run!” Elaine yells, attracting the attention of more zombies. At this point it’s not very important to stay quiet, is it?

We burst out of the brush and into the trees. Low hanging branches swipe at the tops of our heads but we persist with our escape.

Loudly pattering feet stomp at the ground behind us. I scope the area while running along beside my fellow survivor.

The wind is cold and biting, the grass thin and dying. At sundown, the sky turns a burning eerie red that matches the blood beneath my feet. I kneel beside Elaine’s head as blood trickles out of her skull.

“I’m sorry, you know I had to.” I truly did need to do that. She would’ve gotten bitten and turned. All she’s done is slow me down and now she’s all scratched up. You can’t take chances. I couldn’t tell if she had just been scratched or if her wounds were bites but oh well. No matter, it’s too late now.

I wake the next morning hanging from a tree above where Elaine’s body lies still. I yawn and climb down numbly. I remind myself that it was in no way my fault that Elaine had passed. She brought it on herself.

It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault.

A twisted cry comes from behind me. There’s more of the turned. That doesn’t make sense, the area should be safe, I cleared it out. I had gotten all of the zombies. No… no, no, no. This isn’t right. I quickly turn to face the cry, my pistol raised ready to fight the creature I face. However, it is not a zombie, but a person. A boy whining above Elaine’s motionless carcass.

“Get off her, there’s no point in crying. She would have turned. It’s not my fault.”

He eyes my pistol for a moment before glaring back at me, “you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do you sick, twisted—“

He screams before a stake is plunged into my chest.

My eyes widen in my final moments. I died because of Elaine, it was all her fault. There’s a glimpse of awareness as I struggle to take a breath. I glance down at my gushing chest and stare for a moment. It was all my fault.