Amara

The Wasteland was what we’ve all come to know as home. Fifteen years have passed since the majority of the human population was wiped out by a virus that was quickly diagnosed as Influenza Z - the zombie virus.

Growing up, I never would have believed that the conspirators would be right. After all, why would a lab full of scientists want to experiment with something with the potential to wipe out humanity? And why would they release it to the public if they knew that they would be its first victims?

I still remember that first day I found out. Panic, traffic flooding, everyone trying to get somewhere but not really going anywhere at all. If you live poorly, you don't have to worry about that kind of thing. I sat in my one bedroom apartment, watching the chaos unfold outside my living room window. My little brother was in his room, the door locked. I never thought that I’d be waking up to my brother being a zombie and my mother screaming at me to get out.

I never thought I’d run.

Now, I’ve mostly been alone, just like I was now as I treaded through the overgrown concrete jungle that was once New York City. I only knew because of Times Square, the large screens towering over me in disarray and turned black with the lack of electricity there was now. Not like anyone needed it. 98% of the human population has turned into unfeeling, unthinking creatures that roam day and night to find their next kill.

It might just be me.

There was a groaning noise to the alleyway on my left, one that I had failed to notice before I was close enough. I was in their line of sight now, so there were only two choices: fight, or run. When dealing with a zombie apocalypse, you come to learn to not pay attention to the size of the people you’re fighting. It’s less painful, easier on the mind, less guilt than you’d feel if you knew who you were killing. It was even easier when you were at a distance.

They’re already dead, Kim. One shot, one down. You’re not killing anyone, they’ve been gone for years. Two shots, one to go. It’s every man for himself. I tightened the silencer on my pistol, thanking God that it saved me from whatever other zombies might be out here. If the Runners caught my trail, I’d be done for, no hope left in sight. I looked back at the dead people I’d just put down, holstering my pistol back to my side.

Walking over, I let out a breath of relief as I noticed there wasn’t a child in sight. That was the worst part about this apocalypse, it didn’t just leave the children alone. It’s not like we could ask it to. Everyone was victim, and everyone fell along with it.

A shimmer of gold caught my sight, there wasn’t much around like that these days. The woman who wore it around her neck must have died recently. A pang rang through my heart, and I unclipped it from her possession. Standing back up, I studied the locket - it was heart-shaped with a little tab to open it up. I let go of the chain, instead opening it up to reveal the contents.

It was risky getting personal with someone you killed, but I felt like it was necessary. Inside, a carefully cropped picture of a little girl was tucked in place. Her black hair was pinned back, coming down to her shoulders, her smile beaming like a ray of sun. The picture would make anyone miss the old days, when things were much more carefree.

I closed the locket back up and tucked it into my backpack’s side pocket, usually used for a water bottle or whatever fit into it in my case. And with that, I kept on walking. I still had to reach Camp Mei, and that was a few hours away.

When sunset hit, I began to look to make some sort of camp. Usually I started a fire in the damp woods, try to heat up some kind of food. There wasn’t much around anymore, but I’ve learned to preserve my non-perishables at least. I emptied the rest of a half-eaten can of beans into a pot I’d picked up along the way, putting it in a makeshift holder above the low flames of the campfire.

Rolling out my blanket that was tucked away in my backpack as well, I finally settled into the little camp, taking in a real breath of fresh air. Sometimes you get so used to taking it in, you don’t really realize how nice it feels inside your lungs. More refreshing than anything else, other than maybe clean, cold, filtered water. I missed my friend Leah’s fridge more than ever now - it had an automatic water dispenser, always ice-cold.

It was heaven.

Behind me, I heard a twig snap. Whatever it was, it snapped me out of my pining over cold water and caused me to slowly get up, pulling my pistol back out from my holster. I didn’t aim it, not wanting to shoot if this person wasn’t friendly.

But they weren’t exactly the nicest.

Once they noticed I’d gotten up, they rushed out of the bushes, screaming as if it would actually do anything to enhance their performance. The girl that appeared bared a knife, lunging it toward me, trying to cut me open in some place, so she could get the upper hand without losing the leverage of subtlety.

Quickly, I dodged out of the way, “What the hell?” I asked her, though honestly I wasn’t surprised. Some people around here ambushed those that were trying to get by. They didn’t want to fit into one of the new communities, fondly named “camps”, like the one I was going. But why me? Hadn’t I had enough today already?

I would have shot the gun if I wasn’t scared of the long distance, but maybe I should have. The moment I hesitated to do something again, she lunged toward me, her dark hair a blur in the early twilight hours of the night. In a panic, I threw my pistol in the long grass to the side of us, ducking down from her attack at my neck level and pulling the small kitchen knife I tucked into my boot long ago. Even though it was dull, I might as well bare it like a machete.

“I don’t want to do this,” the girl in front of me huffed out, obviously annoyed with my lucky avoidances.

“Obviously, you do.” I nodded toward her, and she snarled at me before coming at me one more time. Only this time, I was ready.

I’ve never killed a living human being before, one that hadn’t turned into one of the zombies yet. I didn’t think it would feel as awful as it did, either. As my hands held the kitchen knife lodged in place, warm liquid spilled onto my hands. Shock had me in its grip, stilling me in place as the lady I’d just introduced to death began to grow limp in front of me.

She fell back, in shock herself, her gaze trained on the pale stars that still littered the night sky. Even if the world drastically changed, that’s the one thing that never did. She looked frail and weak - did she look like that when she was lunging at me? My heart dropped to the pits of my stomach.

What if I didn’t have to do it?

I crawled over to her, the knife having left her body moments before she fell into the dirt. “Oh my god,” I cried as I looked over her, certain that at this point she was too weak to try to kill me, too. “Why did you do this?”

As I watched her, I watched as she reached toward my bag, “Tell my mom…” she trailed off, tears brimming the edges of her eyes, “Tell my mom that I love her. Please.” The last word was a whisper, and then her voice dropped off.

Confused and a little shaken from the events that just took place, I looked from the raven-haired girl to my bag, forgetting about the beans that were surely boiling over the fire by now. I left her there, reaching for the backpack and into the side pocket, pulling out the golden locket I had found earlier. I looked to the girl that had just died in front of me again.

Was this what she meant?

I clicked open the locket one more time, looking over the picture inside and comparing it to what I saw now. The same hair, but longer. The same Asian heritage and the same brown eyes from what I could tell in the dark. I looked over to the girl again, her eyes blankly staring at the fire in front of her that illuminated her face.

Closing the locket, I turned it over to see the back, my thumb brushing over the inscription. Amara. This was her mother’s. As if things couldn’t make this any worse.

I reached down, unclenching the girl’s hand and wrapping it around the necklace instead, making sure it was secure in her grip. Even if someone down the road took it, I hoped it would return to nature with her.

And I hoped they would forgive me.