Prologue

A Chapter by CodyRyanHaag

In a movie, the end of the world would have begun while I, the main character, rested in an unconscious state in a hospital. In a novel, the setting would have unfolded to reveal a survivors' community, where the people barely clung to life but managed to hold just a little hope.

I let out an angry hiss, and barreled headfirst into the grass under my feet, scraping up my arms on a few loose rocks that remained hidden in the grass. I'd tripped on a root that jutted up from the greenery underneath my black boots.

I wished one of those were true because unconsciousness sounded pretty nice to me, and the concept of being in a walled-off community sounded even better. I hadn't received that sort of luck, though, and so on the day the world turned to s**t, I lost everything and everyone, and received memories more gruesome than anything conveyed in my favorite horror movies. Memories that would never fade away.

My fears were always answered. I had been afraid of losing my parents, and now they were six feet under the ground. I'd been afraid of being alone, and now I weaved my way through this forest, the only living human left.

That I know of, anyway, I thought.

Having delved deep into these woods a few months ago, I'd figured the second go at it would be much easier. My conclusion had been incorrect, though, considering the last time I actually knew where I was in this forest was about two hours ago. I'd stumbled into a denser section of vegetation that was impossible to navigate through without cutting away at the forestry with my machete.

I got to my knees, and then to my feet, brushing loose grass pieces off of my thick, denim jeans. They were heavily covered in a few layers of duct tape, like the rest of my wardrobe. It was strange, but more than a few times I'd avoided being bitten because of them and clothes like them. There were only two downfalls about covering my clothes with duct tape, and those were that it slowed me down, and it was a real b***h to wear when I traveled underneath the sun.

My mind flashed back to the man I'd encountered four months ago. A stocky, African American man with dreadlocks and one of his eyes terribly marred, torn up to the extent it didn't even resemble an eye anymore. His voice had been very deep as he met with me over firelight, speaking in a hushed way, telling me of what I could find in this forest.

I leaned against one of the spindly trees near me and reached into my pocket to procure one of the granola bars I'd scavenged from a grocery store about a month ago. I'd taken an entire box, but now all that remained were a few of them. That meant my search had a time schedule. I needed to get in, discover whether or not there was a town of survivors, as the man had said, and if there wasn't, I needed to get back out and find something to eat.

Unless I find berries, but there aren't many edible berries native to this part, I thought.

I unwrapped the granola bar and took a bite. I'd have to move fast. There wasn't much daylight left.