chapter seven: day four.

The first rays of sunlight slant through the dust covered blind, illuminating the apartment in a soft, pale glow. I see now what I couldn't in the dark the night before; peeling beige wall paper, a cracked television set, and a glass coffee table pushed aside to make room for the faded green pull out couch where Carl now sleeps, the pillow pulled over his face.

My bare feet touch the cold tile and I stand on sore legs, still exhausted from the day before. My ankle still throbs painfully, but less so, like an afterthought. I duck into the tiny bathroom, slipping past the sealed doorway. A slip knot, Carl had told me, with the fridge pushed up against it for good measure. I change into my cleaner set of clothes but there's nothing I can do about the wild mess of tangles that has become my hair. Not for the first time, I have the urge to just cut it all off, but mom always loved my hair long. Despite everything, I feel okay, even good having slept in a real bed again.

I glance in the dirty mirror. Carl still sleeps, his dark hair peaking out from underneath his pillow. I pluck it off his face as I pass him by, pulling aside the curtain from the window and let early morning light flood into the room. I turn, seeing carl still asleep, intending to throw the pillow at him to wake him up, but hesitate. His features are surprisingly gentle, different from his usual knit brow and we're-probably-about-to-die looks and I remember that carl was just some dumb kid like me before the world up and ended.

I launch the pillow anyways.

He starts, half sitting up before he's fully awake and realizes that there's no immediate danger, then falls back into the couch. I might feel bad if it wasn't so funny. "Good morning to you too." He croaks in thinly veiled annoyance, voice thick with sleep as he shields his eyes from the light. Until he notices the rising sun and immediately sits up. "It's late. We gotta go."

I raise an eyebrow. "Just like that, huh?"

But he's already up and moving, pulling his things together. "We don't want to be in the city in the daylight. I promise you that."

I take his word for it and start pulling on my boots. "I thought cities were dangerous at night?" I ask, parroting his earlier words.

"At night it's the walkers you gotta worry about. During the day its people...and the walkers." He pushes aside the bookshelf he used to block the window the night before, letting light flood the entire room. Through the shattered window, past the fire escape, I can see the decaying city beyond. "Stay quiet, stay close."

I follow him, stepping carefully through the shards of broken glass. "Sir, yes, sir."

Carl is right-the city is dangerous.

We're hurrying down a long alleyway, only a few blocks from the city's edge when I hear it: three un-silenced gunshots cracking off concrete. Instinctively, I slam my body against the brick wall and Carl does the same, separating us on either side of a massive dumpster.

A sniper. It's a damn sniper.

Two more gunshots follow. I can tell they, whoever they are, are aiming close, but they're a shitty shot. Far at the other end of the ally, walkers begin to cluster towards the noise. If we don't get out of here now, we're going to be surrounded.

I call his name as loud as I dare, although there's no point to being quiet now. "Carl?"

"You okay?" He yells back, sounding like he's not his back against the thing, same as me. Otherwise, there's a good chance we'd both be dead right now. But obscured behind boxes and piles of trash, in this moment we're safe-in the absolute weakest sense of the word.

"What do we do?" I ask instead, inching towards the edge of the dumpster. I peak around the corner, watching the windows of the towering buildings above, hoping for any sign that could give away the shooter's location. "I think I can make it to you…"

I inch a little further, spying the side of Carl's boot a dozen feet away. It's not that far, I just have to be fast, maybe I can make it.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

I slam myself back against the brick wall, feeling the vibration of bullets on concrete. "I'm okay!" I choke out, noticing that the closest three walkers are down, a single shot through the head. I guess they're not a shitty shot after all.

"Did you see anyone?" He has to shout to be heard over the noise.

"No, but it's coming from the brick building. Fifth floor, I think."

The second half of the alley is obscured behind another building just enough that if we make it another ten yards, we'll be out of range of any snipers. More walkers cluster just ahead of us and I can hear a growing roar echoing down the empty alleyways. Another dumpster blocks their view, but they'll see us if they make it another few feet and then the sniper will be the least of our worries. Until I remember the lighter in my pocket.

Carl must think I've gone crazy, searching through the trash until I finally come up with what I'm looking for; a nearly empty bottle of tequila. There's a tiny bit left in the bottom, just enough. Rubbing alcohol would've done just as well. I shove trash into the bottle before lighting the end and standing, throwing the bottle as hard as I can. It hits its mark-shattering when it hits the bottom of an open dumpster near the mouth of the alley. It takes a minute to catch, during which Carl finds a metal trashcan lid to serve as a shield. Then, as smoke covers our escape, fire drawing walkers and gunshots alike, we run and we don't stop. And somehow, we make it out of the city alive.

We cross a towering bridge, finally making it back to the familiar stretch of highway, field, and forest on the opposite side of the city. We made it out but a herd of the dead still follow and there's only one way to evade them. All of our bad luck in the woods flashes through my head.

"Don't worry, I won't loose you this time." Carl must've noticed the expression on my face because he offers a half smile. He looks awful optimistic for someone who has a herd twenty strong trailing a mile behind him.

Still, if that doesn't convince me, the herd spilling out from the bridge onto the road does.

We follow the light, steadying moving south as the sun creeps west. Before too long, we reach railroad tracks and decide to follow them instead, hoping they'd give us less trouble than the road. We hardly speak until we reach the tracks, knowing any noise might draw the whole of them.

"What do you think that was back there?"

Carl shakes his head. "Maybe they weren't shooting for us at all. Maybe some kinda gang protecting their territory. I don't know."

"Makes sense," I decide. "Seen it before."

Carl glances down at you. "Really?"

"My brother-he used to know some sketchy people." Understatement. "After everything..they took over the next town, n' I ran into them one day. They'd help me because they liked my brother. They weren't good people though, not even before."

"So why'd you go back?"

"My mom wouldn't let me." It was as simple and as innocent as that. "But then she died, and my sister needed medicine. They had it."

"Are they still there?"

I shake my head. "It's been at least eighteen months since I've seen any sign of them."

"Let's just hope they weren't the ones shooting at us."

We make it another few miles before the forest begins to thin and we stop following the railroad. I'm relieved. Something about following the winding tracks gave me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. Smoke slowly begins to permeate the air until everything is covered in a thin graze haze and it hurts to breathe. Another few miles and we break through the tree line, stepping directly onto the main street of a tiny town.

Immediately to the right of us, an entire church burns; billowing thick grey smoke into the once blue sky. It's probably the only reason the gathering walkers stumbling into the flames don't come for us. There's no sign of what caused the fire-no sign of any life at all.

We detour around a massive grocery store, spying through the back of storefronts as the walkers migrating towards the flames. We walk to stay quiet, but as soon as we reach the other end we'll have to run again. After all the miles we've covered today, my ankle aches sharper with every step. I guess it's too much to hope they'll all kill themselves and leave us out of it.

Carl must notice my growing limp because he rights a discarded shopping cart, brushing off the handlebars before offering a half grin.

"You gotta be kidding me."

He tilts his head, glancing back the way we came. "Can't have you slowing us down, right?" He rolls the cart back and forth, testing the wheels. "It's perfect." Before I can stay anything at all, a distant snarl alerts us to two walkers at the opposite end of the alley. "Okay, times up. Get in the cart."

As we prattle quietly down the pavement, a loaded gun tucked under my elbow, I glance up at Carl as he steadily pushes the cart. "You're enjoying this way too much."

He cocks his head to the side, shrugging. "It's better than the city."

"Got me there."

Afternoon fades into early evening as we continue south, using the downhill slope of the pavement to sail for miles more than we could've made on foot. By the time darkness starts to creep in, we've made damn good time-finding ourselves in the stark center of Georgia. Half down, nearly half to go.

We pick the next road off the highway at random, following another seemingly endless stretch of road for another few miles. Carl has the map folded out across the handlebars of the cart, swearing that it should be only a little less than ten miles now. By this point, we've attracted a small herd of three walkers that trail us at a quarter mile distance. For now, they're a problem for later.

The air is suffocatingly thick, molding my sweaty clothes to my skin. My body is sore from sitting in the cart and my ankle is sore from the few miles I actually walked today. Carl's not much better off-his skin covered in a layer of grime, the blood splattered sheriffs hat tilted over his tired eyes. We're both hungry; both stubbornly deciding to wait to eat until we find a decent place for the night. But more than anything, I crave sleep. But I'm scared that if I give into the exhaustion, if I let my guard down even a little for even a second, I won't make it. Worse, I might even get Carl killed along with me.

"Would you rather lick a cactus or run through your high school naked?"

If I weren't being pushed in a shopping cart, I would've stopped dead in my tracks. "What?"

Carl breathes a laugh. "You heard me. What would you rather do?"

I can't turn my head because of the supplies in the way, and the best I can do is let my head fall back to try to look up at him. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously." He shakes his head to himself. "It's a game. Something to pass the time. Don't be lame."

A game. How cute, innocent. But innocence dies screaming, ask me I should know. Still, his last comment makes me stubborn. "Fine."

"So?

I stare at the miles of road still ahead of us at I consider his ultimatum. "There's no way I'm licking a cactus."

"Good choice. I agree. Now you go." Behind us, another walker joins the growing herd, letting out an vicious snarl I can hear a quarter mile away.

I chew on my lip, trying and failing to bite back my tongue. "Would you rather let yourself turn or put yourself out?"

He's quiet for a moment, the only noise the rattling of the wheels on concrete. "I won't turn. Never."

"Me too."

He exhales. "You're no good at this game, y'know?"

I relent. "Fine, I got a better one. Would you rather be able to fly or read minds?"

"Hard choice but I'd have to go with mind reading," he decides, "What about you?"

I make a noise of exasperation, partially due to his answer, partially due to how uncomfortable the metal bars were digging into my skin. I push the supplies away from me and manage to climb out of of cart without falling on my face. "Fly." I answer simply once I've righted myself, spotting the front under portion of the cart. "Here, I'll show you."

A minute later we're moving again; me, backwards and clinging to the front of the cart, Carl holding onto the handlebars, both of us laughing as our combined weight speeds us down the long street, leaving the herd miles behind us.

But it doesn't last long. I get my wish; the sky cracks with thunder and rain falls, only a little at first but then all at once-soaking us through within a minute. We do our best to shove the supplies into our backpacks before everything gets too wet, but the map is already drenched, completely unreadable. But Carl remembers the way to a neighborhood a few miles ahead, and I guess I must trust him, because I follow him back into the forest.

The rain is a little lighter under the canopy but it's windier, and the rain I once craved now makes me shiver in my wet clothes. The shopping cart lies discarded on the side of the highway, no use for it anymore. As we push through mile after mile, I never thought I'd miss the damn thing so much. It feels like hours pass, but eventually we find our way to a winding neighborhood with tall oak trees lining either side of the road. It's close enough to town to be deserted, but far enough to be safe. Any one of these houses would do just fine.

Wait a minute…

With all the ugly things I've seen today, I'm startled to see something so beautiful; Violet Lane.

"I know this place…"

The purple flowers curl around the neighborhood sign, vines snaking across the white cursive. Beyond the wooden sign, two dozen fancy two-story houses line the cobblestone road.

"Yeah?"

"I had second cousins that lived here." I answer offhandedly, staring at the familiar area. "We used to have family reunions here every few years."

"Think they might still be here?"

I shake my head, wet hair flying, staring up at the archway as we pass under it. "We barely talked to them before the world ended. Last time I was here I was twelve, maybe?"

"Worth a shot."

I follow the road to the best of my memory until we reach a vaguely familiar brick house with blue shutters. The sky is now a swirl of faded purple and bright fuchsia, but there's no time to watch the sunset. If we're going to clear the house we better do it while there's still some light left. The front door hangs open, swaying weakly in the breeze.

We search it anyways-finding clothes missing from the drawers and pictures missing off the walls-even a mailing address on the counter. Empty cans are scattered across the stove and the cabinets hang open, ransacked by who knows how many people by now. Still, it's clear they'd gone somewhere early on, probably before the rest of us even knew something was wrong. Good for them and good for me, because I know about the hidden crawl space and the screened in pool outside.

My only memories of this place are as a child, playing hide and seek in the forest that's now full of walkers with cousins who are probably dead by now. If they are alive I bet they think I'm dead too.

Carl kneels by the edge of the pool, tugging off the cover to reveal clean, clear water, illuminated by the fading glow of the sunset. By the time he's got the cover off, we're both racing to rip off our backpacks and toss aside our sweat soaked shoes. I dive in all at once, coming up for air, sputtering and laughing, because, god, it feels so good. And Carl, he just floats on his back, eyes closed, smiling up at the grey clouds and the fading pink light of the sunset.

And somehow, we're still here.

We're still here.

xx.