Raven Gone

I woke as the sun was cresting the horizon. It felt like centuries ago that I used to stay in my bed covered warmly well into the afternoon. Back when bills and dating were the things to worry about. Now sleeping past sunrise could mean eternal slumber. As often happened, I rolled over and flung my arm into empty space. It had been over a year since I had anyone to cuddle up to, but it was still habit. I had not given up on him, just the thought I might find him kept me going on. Retrieving my backpack I started to clean up my makeshift campsite. Though I was sure the infected couldn’t track very well, I didn’t want to take any chances on scavengers finding me. I could hear the low moan of a few of the infected below the cliff I stood upon. As I picked up my ax I considered jumping down and putting them out of their misery, but it was too great of a risk. There could be more around and I was not in the mood, nor did I have the energy to fight. Instead I climbed higher until I reached a plain riddled with trees. I sighed as I entered the covered darkness. The sun was at its highest point when I came across the house. It was obvious it was one of the first houses to go when the infection had hit wide. The windows were all busted out and a good chunk of the second floor had been removed by a fallen tree. I entered the front door with my ax ready. One could never be too prepared anymore. The infected may not be bright but they still managed to play hide-n-seek very well. Even though the sun was out, without electricity, houses had many shadows. Anymore I worried more about scavengers than the infected themselves. Over the months they seemed to dwindle in numbers. Whether it was from being killed by the living or just decomposing, I was not completely sure. It didn’t really matter anymore anyway. Even without the infected attacks people were still turning. At first the scientists were baffled by what has happening. People “coming back to life” were the initial headlines. It was about six months into the pandemic that they finally realized no one actually died, they were just being aggressive. It was a form of human rabies that had evolved without the science community even taking note. By month seven there were talks of a cure for the infected. Hope started to bloom and people tried to return to their normalcy, but that didn’t last long. By the eighth month all hope was lost. The “cure” turned out to further the infection by seemingly make it transfer faster between persons. They had officially created a pandemic. Starting back at square one the scientists didn’t have much time, and that proved even scarier when the scientists started dropping like flies, which is a metaphor that no longer really fits in this world. One does not simply drop like a fly anymore, they tend to bounce back up soon after. It slowly became common knowledge that everyone had become infected in some way or another. With the virus being so easily transferable it was damned near impossible not to at least be a carrier. Lord only knows why some people did not turn into the savage beasts like most of society. Talks of the Darwin effect of stronger immune systems accompanied with the hope that the cure had in fact worked in some ways. Yet, still people did not keep the hope and instead they turned into scavengers, roaming the land for any scrap of food that was left over or hoarded by another. Which soon lead to groups of the unchanged fighting among one another. A battle of survival made more difficult with time. Why the unchanged did not just join forces and attempt recreate society, I will never know. I still hold onto hope that it will happen one day. Many attempts have been made but none have truly stuck. Until then I continue to wander the land and steal from the people who long ago abandoned their normal lives. As I moved my way through the current home, it became obvious it used to be a farm house. The kitchen was beautifully haunting with its cow and blood printed walls. I could not help but find the irony of the wallpaper. Laughing to myself I started to open the cupboards. All that was left, to my nonexistent surprise, were expired cans of s**t. Slamming the cupboard I jumped as I heard a scream come from above. I did not want to move until I could figure out what had just happened. I knew from experience that the infected could still scream, it rarely happened but if you got one early enough or, one that might have that faint connection still left, it could happen. The thundering footsteps that followed allowed me to assume that no matter infected or not there was most definitely more than one, which was not good. I dashed for the backdoor as I saw someone enter the next room out of the corner of my eye. Cursing I took off running. There was a barn nearby but I knew it would not be smart to stop there. I had to get as far away from the house as I could. This was why I traveled alone; I did not have to worry about anyone else. When trouble arouse I could just literally pick up and leave on the spot. I entered the darkness of the woods as I heard the shouting behind me. I could not really tell if it was hostile or not, but I was not about to stick around and find out. One thing quickly learned when the world goes to s**t is that the old sayings always go. For example: It is always better to be safe than it is to be sorry. So my ass was getting the hell out of dodge before I lost my head over the few candy bars that filled my pack. The funny thing was I never planned to eat the bars. They were a constant reminder of what used to be, of who I used to be, who we all used to be. Yeah, I could just give the bars to someone else, many would think it was selfish to keep them and not eat them. But, I wanted the reminder, plus the damned things expired two months ago now. Anyone who really wanted to eat stale candy that bad could be my guest. The problem was though that too many people killed first and figured it out later. By the time a sharp pain shot through my abdomen I was sure the group had given up on me. I cursed to myself. I had passed a group of homes in my attempt to get away. I made a mental note to stop slamming things in anger. This was not the first time it had gotten me in trouble. My family might still be alive if I had kept my temper at bay but, now was not the time to dwell on the past. I looked around to check for infected. Once I was sure they were not going to jump out of nowhere I climbed the nearest tree that could hold my weight. I was not as huge as I used to be but I also was not the skinny jean type either. I flung my messenger bag around a nearby limb and switched a bottle of water for my ax. I had not even realized I was running with it in my hand. It occurred to me that that may be the reason I was not pursued. Scavengers may be desperate but seeing a wild person running into the woods with an ax was enough to make them think differently. The water seemed like it would boil in my chest my lungs burnt so bad. It had been a few months since I had run that fast and far. I had found an apartment complex that was about thirty stories tall. I knew to skip the first few floors so I continued up to the very top floor. I hit the jackpot. Winter was just settling in so I had decided to blockade the door and spent the winter there. I was in heaven those months. My favorite apartment was number 3011. I knew it was going to be good when I walked in and saw the enormous Viking sticker on the fridge. I recognized it from the world I had once lived. “Happy NaNoWriMo,” I whispered at the memory. Walking into the living room I found the shelf was full of published and unpublished books. I reached over to my messenger bag and picked up Edna my favorite novel from the apartment. It was not complete but somehow I still held onto the story. The other apartments had proven to be gold mines as well with the luxurious furniture and surplus of unspoiled food. I had learned from a very brainy kid, at the start of the pandemic, how to create a solar panel from different pieces of old electronics. I had used this knowledge and was able to listen to music for a little while each day. I still had an MP3 player and small panel in my bag but I rarely used it anymore. After two years of no recording studios or no way to obtain new songs for the player, it was barely useful. It was still nice to turn it on days that felt like there was no reason to continue with the charade of this new life. Music always had a way to center you. I owe it my life really. Currently I leaned back and allowed the spring sun to beat down on my face. I felt myself starting to slip off to sleep so I grabbed the rope out of my bag and tied myself to the tree. A trick I picked up from one of my favorite survival novels of the old world. It made me wonder if the stories would ever come back. Had I taken written word for granted? I laughed as I realized the world was nearly ending and all I could worry about was if I would ever see another book again. “Mrs. Renee,” I said to know one, “You would be so proud of me right now, or laugh because I am completely batshit crazy.” I allowed my mind to wander a bit more and before I knew it I was off in dream land. That is if one can call visions of burning houses and scarred skin a dream.