Becky
I trudged across the blackened earth, hoping to find civilization, wherever that may be. The sun was setting; I’d have to stop soon, alone again. I missed human company the most. There had to be someone else out there somewhere, someone else who’d survived the plague.
Someone other than Becky. I’d met her a few days ago and she wouldn’t shut up.
This morning, the soil hadn’t been the best for gravedigging, but I guess I owed her that much after snapping her neck. I just wanted to find someone, anyone as long as they were not like Becky.
Mottled Skin
“I’m fine,” she said, and stomped further into the warehouse. Thankfully they didn’t follow her, and when she was out of sight, a sigh of relief escaped her. Wincing, she unwrapped the bandage from around her arm. The skin had gone from a purple blue to a greenish yellow. Tears spilled silently from her eyes as she looked at the bite and the mottled skin around it. There was no stopping it now. She refused to end up like those disgusting things. She took a steadying breath and reached for her gun.
A woeful shot rang out through the warehouse.
First published by Black Hare Press