Chapter 3: 3. A Cry For Help

It was about a 5-hour walk from the station to the college, close enough for a bus ride, long enough for a walk.

”Ugh, I think I filled the bag too much." I muttered, gripping it tightly with both hands to keep from dropping the bag onto my back.

I took everything I could need before I left the station. Dry food, water, a first aid kit, and a compass, which I didn’t even know would be of use to me.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going to happen. Maybe it’ll be necessary,” I muttered.

The city center was between the station and the school. Although I had been walking for half an hour, I had not encountered a single zombie. But as I got closer to the center, I heard vague sounds coming from afar. I was sure, the city center was swarming with zombies.

“I’d better act more carefully from here on out.” I looked anxiously at the road ahead. The uncertainty of not knowing what was waiting for me was terrifying.

Zombies would attack if they saw you, but they didn’t have superpowers or sharp senses. The day the invasion started, I fought against dozens of zombies alone in the station, hiding between the shelves and using hit-and-run tactics to decimate their numbers considerably. If they had extraordinary powers, I would have fucked up already, although if Amora hadn’t saved my life, I would have fucked up either way, anyway.

“Amora…” I muttered.

Her silhouette had been in my mind since yesterday. Every time I mentioned her name, my bulge swelled. I could swear that I could still sniff her fragrance on me. That moment with her had made me a whole new man.

After half an hour of walking without incident, I finally approached the city center. Tall buildings appeared on the horizon one by one. It was an average-sized city, with a population of about a million, which meant there would be a lot of zombies around.

“Should I continue at nightfall? I stand out like a sore thumb in daylight.” That way, I could have avoided people too.

Zombies weren’t the only danger. There must have been other survivors in this enormous city, perhaps looking for food, and as a young lad with a big bag on my back, I was an easy target. I was the last person to trust people, especially after all the things that had happened to me.

“I need to find a sheltered place to spend the night.”

I had no intention of camping in the open. I needed a sheltered place in a remote corner. With that in mind, I started moving through the empty streets to look for the existence of a place that meets all these criteria. Zombies appeared sporadically around. Luckily, I was far from the city center and they were few in number.

I moved along the sides of the cars with quiet but careful steps. At every zombie I saw, I paused and looked around anxiously again. After about half an hour of this stressful walk, my clothes were soaked. My shirt, which was sticking to my back from sweat, was driving me crazy. I wanted to tear the shirt if I could.

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“Help!”

Suddenly I paused when a cry for help suddenly rose in the empty streets. That was a woman’s voice. I pricked my ears, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

“The sound is coming from that building.” I looked nervously at the old wooden building in the corner.

“Should I check it out?”

After all, a person I didn’t know was asking me for help. Why would I rush to her aid? The last time I helped someone, they left behind me to die. Yeah, it would be best if I just looked my way.

Just as I took a step, a sound rose from the building again.

“Sons of bitches!”

The sound was so loud that the focus of the zombies turned towards the old house.

“If this goes on, these walkers will notice me.” I looked again at the building where the sound came from. I was thinking, thinking about what I should do, weighing my options.

“Oh fuck, there’s no way I’m moving forward like this!” I strode towards the building. Had I continued like this, I knew zombies would soon surround me in narrow streets.

Unaware of what was waiting for me in the building, I dived into the building with a bat in my hand. I would probably find out within minutes whether my decision was right or wrong. Hoping I don’t regret this, I prayed to my savior angel.

“Wish me luck, Amora.”

 

 

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