The days are starting to blur together.

I don’t know if it’s Monday or Friday, yesterday or tomorrow, hell, I couldn’t even tell you the month. But what I do know, without a single doubt in my mind, is that I am done living in this tedium of a post apocalyptic nightmare.

I’ve tried to find people, some semblance of what ever society is left, but I’ve had no luck. I had a dog once. A little fluffy Border Collie, who’s name I can’t really temper anymore, but unfortunately they got him too.

The creatures that are now the dominant species on the planet. Walkers, Freakers, the Undead, whatever you want to call them, have taken over and eliminated all the people I have ever cared about. And then they took, Joey, my one friend that I had made since this all began and now I hate them even more.

Joey. Shit. That’s what his name was. Joey.

I see the skyline of a city in the distance. Cities are danger zones, filled with those things, and I aim to end them all. Food is also scarce and cities usually have more canned goods then out in the wild lands, so there is another reason to enter the city. But it’s mostly just to kill those things.

I’ve gotten pretty good at killing those things. It started as a way to just feel something, other then guilt and sadness, but it evolved into a sort of hobby. They’re like a fly or spider in your home - you see one, you kill it, plain and simple.

Maybe I’ve finally lost it, but then again, did I ever really have it?

I cross the bridge into the city. A fine piece of work in its day but it’s starting to crumble a bit. One of the towers is broken, no doubt the cause of the airplane I see on the shoreline. Guess they got a quicker end then expected.

I pause to look over the edge. The water is so far down, hitting it would be like hitting cement. Maybe I should just jump and just end my miserable existence. I stand on the ledge, and dangle a foot over the floor edge. It would be so easy.

I hear a grumbling moan behind me and with a quick glance I see one of those things behind me. I jump back onto the bridge and pull the machete from my pack. It’s a fly, I got to kill it.

One single swing and it’s head rolls, and with a swift kick I sent it over the edge. I wipe my blade on the corpse of the now really dead thing and move on, my thoughts no longer on jumping.

An hour later I am in the city. So quiet, with nothing but the faint echo of birds bouncing off of the glass and concrete. I find a store pretty quick and throughly search it. No food but lots of other essential things including clothes, which I desperately need some new ones. I change quickly, not wanting to be caught off guard, and then head off again into the city.

It’s almost dark and I haven’t found a lot of food maybe two days worth. If I want to leave this place I am going to need about two weeks worth. A lot to carry but hey, if I die, someone won’t go hungry.

I make my way through the deserted streets, with nothing but the rusting cars and broken streets as company, hoping to find a safe place to sleep for the night, when I here a sound I never wanted to hear again but at the same time I want to as well.

A scream. Shrill and high pitched. The scream of a child that is no doubt trapped by the monsters that roam these streets. But instead of running towards the helpless child, I freeze in place, unable to move.

Why aren’t I moving? Why am I just standing here like a damned statue? Why am I scared to help her?

I know the answer. I’ve always known but I didn’t want to accept it. I really want to die alone don’t I? If I help that child I am giving them hope which I have very little of if any at all. And if I fail then that hope would force that child to take a risk, a chance, mostly likely ending in their death. I should just walk away, leave them to their fate.

Another scream echoes off the buildings and I find myself moving - towards the screaming child. What am I doing? Why the hell am I going to help them? Why?

As I round the corner and see a child on top of a bus surrounded by the creatures screaming for help, and I know the answer to my question.

I draw my machete out as well as my pistol and drop my pack and coat. I charge at the monsters shouting to get their attention. They slowly turn to me and some leave the bus but there are some that stay behind still clawing at the child. I shoot several of them with my pistol, emptying the clip. I drop it and start swinging my machete.

One by one they fall and soon enough they are all dead and I am covered in their blood. I quickly despatch the ones by the bus clearing the threat away, and the child makes their way down.

I notice the the child is a little boy, no older then seven or eight. His body language is timid and scared but that is to be expected. After all I am covered in blood and gore.

I ask if he is alright, to which he nods. I nod back. Good, good. I wipe my face with my sleeve and start to walk away but the boy grabs my shirt. I turn to see he has resumed his crying.

“Please don’t leave me,” he begs as snot slides down his chin. I kneel down and put a hand on his shoulder. I simply nod and stand back up and take his hand.

We walk back to where I dropped my things. As I wipe off the gore and blood I ask the boy his name.

“Joey,” he said as he wipes his own face.

And for the first time in a long time I smile and I know that I was staying alive to find this boy. This boy covered in dirt and grime. This boy who takes my hand as we continue on. This boy who is my new reason to live and to never abandon hope again.