Fields of Goldenrod

Light no longer existed. The world was one large shadow, and she was sure that was the cause of the chaos; a world of blackness to match the hearts of its inhabitants. People murdered and killed till their bodies were crimson and there just was not a way to scrub themselves clean of their sins. In a world of darkness and hate, she remained.

Her, and only her. It was sad, but it was for the best.

Long hair was a hindrance when you had to run through thickets and woods. It could be used to catch you. So she cut it all off. Let the once flaxen locks fall to the ground without so much as a second thought. No going back now. The short bits of hair still standing up from her scalp were all uneven and shaggy. It felt too light, too free. She was not free. It began to feel wrong, the lack of weight. As days or what she assumed were days passed, the feeling in her chest grew heavier. What had the world come to where she could no longer keep her precious hair long? Where this mess atop her head felt like freedom? This was wrong.

Food and water grew scarce with time. So did the people, though. Her same set of clothes hung from her body uncomfortably. Her sprigs of hair matted on her head and lost their beautiful tawny coloring. Hunger pains stabbed at her stomach until even that gave up the will to keep fighting. She walked on from hiding spot to hiding spot. Alone. Slowly the ache in her heart from that gave up, too.

She did not start out this horrid journey by herself. At first there were four of them. Then three. Then two. Then her. It all started late in the night with a shout and then she was being dragged from the only place she really considered home before she could even so much as ask, why? She still did not know, but perhaps that was for the best as well.

The four them were headed for safety. A settlement out in the west that was supposedly surrounded by a field of goldenrod. They did not have any ideas about where they were really going. The description could belong to thousands of places, millions even. That fact did not matter, though. There may not have been much light left above them, but it remained in their hearts. That was enough.

The first of her companions to die was snatched from them much too soon into the adventure. Ripped to shreds before her very eyes. And she just stood there in shock. Arms wrapped around her and pulled her away, jump started her instinct to survive as a hand pulled her forward. Three of them ran. One of them rose from the ground behind them with missing chunks of flesh and eyes an almost sickening shade of yellow, ringed with red so dark it looked black. She only looked back once. Never did she look back when the others passed after that. She kept moving forward, because it was for the best.

Eventually, everything began to die. It was harder to breath, but not too much. Not yet. She moved faster then. Who knew how long the goldenrod of the field she was meant to find would remain when all of the light and water were gone? She had to hurry. Time was drawing near.

Home was an overly large jacket and some worn-out converse sneakers now. It was too short hair and dirt under once pristine fingernails. Home was rough and unforgiving, and it sucked. It was too cold and stank vaguely of body odor. Or rather, extremely so of body odor in the recent days. Home needed a bath, as did she. That would require being much too vulnerable, though. And finding a source of running water and some soap. But, who had time for the little things anymore when you were running for your life constantly?

She was sure that there were not anymore people. Sure, they walked the streets like she did, but they were not people. They dragged their feet too much. Some were missing limbs. All were covered in blood and reeked of rotting flesh. They looked like people, but those yellow eyes were not human. They did not act human, therefore they were not. It made it much easier on her, yet harder all at once. Still, she continued on in search of this fabled survivor settlement.

No one wanted to be the last human in a world full of monsters.

It was always the same dream. It was nothing like the dreams of her friends while they travelled, where they finally found this glorious, wide open field of goldenrod; sometimes there were others, sometimes there were not. That part seemed to depend on the friend. But no, her dream was not of finding happiness like theirs had been. There was not shelter or food or anything of the sort in her dream. There was darkness, smog, and pain. She walked alone down streets and brushed past other figures. Stumbling over her feet occasionally. None of the monsters attacked her when she would run into them. None of them looked her way. Her dream self did not care in the slightest. She simply kept walking down the street, gait awkward like everyone else's and shoulders slumped. Just like one of them.

She’d rather die.

The snap of a twig had her jolting awake. She hurried to remove her knife from its holster at the tell tale snapping of teeth neared with every crunch of leaves. It took much too long to do that and stand, giving her attacker the time to lunge. It was a woman, or had been a woman at one point in time. Nails scratched and clawed at anything they could reach as she quickly blocked the gnashing teeth from her. Her forearm of her right arm was shoved up at the beast’s neck, left arm moving to grip her blade firmly. The woman’s necklace – a heart-shaped locket – dangled it her face. The knife came up with all of the force she could muster, burying itself in the woman’s skull with a sickening thunk. The creature stuttered in its movements, but did not stop. So, she yanked her knife back and did it again. And again. And again. Finally, when she was covered in blood and the side of the thing’s skull was mush.

It fell away from her easily, and she stood to look down at it. She kept a firm grip on her knife’s handle as she used the sleeve of her right arm to wipe the viscera off her face and neck. She winced as part of her arm seemed to snag, spreading more blood than her. The thudding of her heart quickened as she slowly took in the state of her arm. There, along the outer edge. The woman had bit her, right through her jacket.

“Fuck.”

“Oh shit. Are you alive?” A person. Their voice startled her from her spot against a large tree trunk. She had been sitting there for what felt like days, but may have only been hours. Alone, and waiting for death. Her eyes flicked to take the man in as he inched closer to her. “Hi. Do you need help?”

With what little strength she had, she nodded. He knelt down and helped her stand again, bracing her arm over his shoulders. And then they walked. She drifted in and out of awareness, but that did not stop him from chattering away at her. From what she did catch, though, she knew he was taking her to his camp. He had supplies there. He was going to patch her up.

It was all falling into place finally. It took one little push, barely even a nudge, and she was suddenly spiraling down, down, down. She could not stop herself. They made it to his camp, and as he went to grab bandages, her body moved on its own. After him, everyone around her was in danger. She was no longer in control of her actions. Each bite made it harder to stop and ingrained the taste further in her mind. This was the end. She was a monster.

This was the end.

She did not dream anymore, but she imagined around now would be when she would start to dream of the fields of goldenrod. It made sense, really. All of those she had loved dreamt of those bright fields, and wound up dead. She imagined that she would find them all there; the wanderer, the musician, the loser, and the man who tried to help her. Waiting for her patiently. She wants that. Wants to run to them with her hair flowing behind her in its old ponytail and just tackle them all to the ground, but really, what are the odds of that? Her dream from before had come true. She no longer slept. No longer ached. She just walked jauntily along and groaned. It was too close to too late for her. Or perhaps it already was. Why could she still think, then? Were they all like this? Did all of those monsters she killed before realize what was happening? Were they even monsters then?

She had not stopped walking for such a long time now. How long, she did not know. It was hard to keep track of time when your mind was slowly leaving you. There was an old man, along the way. He was unarmed, starving to death. He did not stand a chance. That was maybe a few days ago. Since then, she has not seen anything else. Perhaps she would find people where she was heading. People just like her, trapped on the brink of destruction. Maybe not. Nothing could stop her from hoping while she still could. Hope was all she had left, and she would be damned if she gave it up after all she had gone through.

There was a sign ahead. A barricade with it. 'Fields of Goldenrod.' Ornate brick homes lined a street behind the makeshift wall although they each looked rather run down now. Was this it? She finally found it. They were never looking for an actual field. It was a neighborhood in the middle of nowhere, probably once a beautiful piece of suburbia turned refugee camp. They were looking for the wrong thing. He could have lived if she had known. The man could have gotten to safety.

Before she ate him.

There was not time to dwell on that, though. She pushed onward to the wall, weakly calling out. Hello? Anyone there? It was barely coherent, more like a series of groans and grunts. Help me. Please. I need help. Is anyone there?

“Incoming!” The voice from behind the wall was harsh, militaristic in nature. Incoming? Were they opening the door for her? They must be. “Ready? Aim!”

Wait a minute. Aim? At her? No! She tried to yell. Scream even. Both sounds were so guttural and inhuman… Stop, she begged quietly. Stop. I'm alive. I'm not one of them. Don't shoot.

There was a bang. She knew what was coming, braced herself as best she could in the seconds prior. Her eyes clenched tight.