The Last Survivor

The sky was a foggy dark, thick with the fragrance of rot and obliteration. The roads, once clamoring with life, were currently unfilled, save for the rearranging figures that meandered randomly, their empty eyes looking for whatever moved. The world had fallen, and with it, mankind.

Maya hunched in the remnants of an old book shop, her breath consistent however her heart hustling. She had been stowing away for a really long time, her body debilitated by craving and fatigue, yet her psyche sharp, sharp with the will to get by. She had seen what befallen the individuals who surrendered, and she wasn't prepared to go along with them. Not yet.

The flare-up had begun two months prior, however it seemed like a lifetime. The news had considered it a "viral contamination," a pandemic clearing across the globe of some sort. However, it was far more regrettable than that. The infection didn't simply kill its casualties; it restored them, transforming standard individuals into careless, tissue hungry beasts. They called them the Tainted, yet Maya understood what they truly were — zombies.

At 19, Maya had become used to being separated from everyone else. Her family was among quick to be taken, her mom and younger sibling turned promptly after the flare-up. She had watched them kick the bucket, felt the misfortune of losing the main individuals she had at any point really cherished. Be that as it may, tragedy didn't make any difference any longer. Indeed endurance did.

She had advanced rapidly how to explore this new world, keeping away from the Tainted by avoiding sight, moving just when totally essential. The urban communities were horrible. When brimming with life, they were presently invaded with the dead. Maya favored the edges, where nature had recovered the land, and there were less tokens of what used to be.

Be that as it may, the edges had their perils as well. Supplies were scant, and foragers — frantic survivors like her — were frequently all around as perilous as the actual zombies. Trust was an extravagance she was unable to manage.

She had been scanning through the book shop for anything helpful — a guide, maybe, or canned food abandoned by somebody less intensive — when she heard the recognizable, feared sound. The sluggish, lopsided strides of a Tainted. Her body strained, each muscle on guard. She grasped the blade lashed to her belt, her main weapon, however she realized it wouldn't be super beneficial assuming she was cornered.

Looking through the broke window, she saw it: a solitary figure, stunning through the road, its face a horrifying blend of spoiled tissue and uncovered bone. Its mouth balanced open in an odd satire of yearning. Maya's stomach stirred, however she constrained herself to keep cool-headed. She had seen more awful. She had battled more awful.

The zombie halted, its head turning unnaturally as though it had gotten a fragrance. Maya froze, pausing her breathing. Had it detected her? The Tainted were slow yet persevering, and their feeling of smell had elevated in the afterlife. Assuming it viewed as her, she wouldn't have the option to beat it for a really long time.

Similarly as the zombie steered a stage toward her, an uproarious accident reverberated from a close by rear entryway. The sound was sufficient to redirect its consideration, and with a nauseating moan, the animal dismissed and rearranged toward the commotion.

Maya breathed out in help however stayed nervous. Another person was out there, and they weren't cautious. The idea made her uncomfortable. She had gone a long time without seeing another living individual, and presently, running into somebody filled her with fear. The world had changed individuals. It made them frantic, risky.

All things considered, interest pulled at her. Perhaps they were in a difficult situation, perhaps they required help. She would have rather not minded, yet some piece of her — a section that actually recalled the young lady she used to be — couldn't resist.

Gradually, she moved out of her concealing spot, blade primed and ready. She crawled through the neglected roads, keeping her strides light, her eyes filtering each shadow. As she moved toward the rear entryway, the smell of blood hit her nose. She faltered, however the sound of toiled breathing contacted her ears, and she realized somebody was harmed.

Looking around the bend, she saw him. A young fellow, presumably no more established than her, was resting up against the wall, gripping his side. Blood leaked through his fingers, smudging his worn out shirt. His eyes were wide with alarm as he attempted to battle off a Tainted that was gradually surrounding him.

Maya lacked the opportunity to think. She followed up on nature, rushing forward and diving her blade into the rear of the zombie's skull. It let out a low, throaty moan prior to falling to the ground, still. The man gazed at her, wide-peered toward and shudder.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her voice low however consistent.

The man gestured pitifully, however Maya could see he was not doing so well. "I... I didn't think any other person was as yet alive," he murmured, his voice dry.

"Neither did I," Maya mumbled. She hunkered close to him, investigating the injury. It was profound, yet not a nibble. He had been fortunate.

"Might you at any point walk?" she inquired.

He shook his head. "I have to strongly disagree. Not far, in any event."

Maya chomped her lip, gauging her choices. She could leave him. It would be the shrewd thing to do. He was harmed, dialing her back. However, as she investigated his eyes, she saw something that made her respite. He wasn't simply one more survivor. He was alarmed, broken, yet battling.

Murmuring, she threw his arm behind her and aided him to his feet. "Come on," she said, her voice relaxing. "There's an old drug store a couple of blocks from here. We'll track down something to fix you up."

The man checked out at her, his demeanor a combination of appreciation and mistrust. "For what reason would you say you are helping me?"

Maya shrugged. "I don't have any idea. Perhaps I'm simply worn out on being separated from everyone else."

They moved gradually through the roads, their general surroundings loaded up with shadows and passing. However, without precedent for weeks, Maya didn't feel completely lost. Perhaps, quite possibly, there was still expectation left in this messed up world.

What's more, at that time, as the two survivors rested on one another, Maya understood that even in the most obscure of times, there was as yet a gleam of light.