Self realization

       I look out the window of this mobile fortress as we sail down the road, our exact location unknown.  Over the past few days Ive come to get to know Rich on a more personal level.  He was like the father I wish I had, even though my real father took care of me most of my life.  I dwell on the thoughts of my less than stellar childhood as I stare out of the window, scanning the landscape for signs of life.  Or anything for that matter, it was like this part of land was a part that man had yet to touch.  No skyscrapers, no oil rigs, not even a small village.  I try to think of where in the US we could be, so devoid of life before the outbreak.  The only places I could think of were Wyoming, Montana, or one of the Dakotas.  Taking my gaze off the  mid day scenery beyond the window, I look towards the back of the bus.  My equipment had sat untouched for days, and so had my plans for setting off on my own. It was now just a thought in the back of my head.  The less I was relied upon as the only supply gatherer, the less the thought pounded with resolution.  But if I had left, what would they do?  Would the lack of  a "hunter", to put it one way, cause the death of another?  If I were to go through with this would I unwillingly kill one, if not more people on this bus?  As if to put an end to this particular train of thought I hear that voice again.

       "No, you wont be killing anybody.  The undead will.  If they can't defend themselves, how did they survive this long?  By depending on others to get their work done, they have sealed their own fate."  There was disgust in the voice as it continued.  "Here's a question?  Who has gone on the most scavenging trips since you got here?  How many times have you gone by yourself?  How many times have any of them even come half as close to death since grouping with them?!"  The voice by this time was infuriated, and it was getting contagious.  I unconsciously clench my fist as the voice went on.  "You are basically killing yourself if you stay. what if they decide to settle down here, in the middle of fucking nowhere?  I don't see you as the settling type?  Not so close to home now."  Even though I fully agree with everything I hear, I'm sick of hearing it.  Unable to control myself I yell to get the voice to fade back into my subconscious.  "Shut UP!"  I scream as my fist slams into the cold metal wall of the bus.  I take a deep breath, and look up, suddenly every bodys  eyes are on me. A nervous chuckle escapes my lips, followed by a hasty apology.  "Heh, sorry about that.  I haven't had a restful nights sleep in a while."    Nobody says anything, but I can still feel the stare as I pull my jacket closer to keep some body heat in an attempt to get some sleep.  Even these past few weeks when I do get sleep, its very light and the slightest out of place noise wakes me up.  Slowly the chatter from the back of the bus picks up, and  just like that I was out.

              I opened my eyes and I was no longer on the bus, but alone in my room.  Everything was just as I remembered it, but something was off.  I sit up and take a look around, the door was open, but instead of the hall being on the other side there was literally nothing.  Looking out the windows I see the same  pitch black as in the doorway.  I cautiously make my way to the door frame, peering into the void I can hear the moans of the undead.  From out of the dark, a rotten hand darts out.  Missing me by mere inches, I slam the door shut and turn around.  There on my bed, where I was moments ago, I see a man sitting on the corner of my bed.  As I begin to approach him, I hear the voice again.  But instead of just being in my mind, it came from nowhere in particular.  "No turning back now.  You have come so close, why stop now?"  Although the man hadn't budged an inch, I knew the voice was coming from him.  It continued, as if narrating.  "Everybody you have come in contact with  could be considered an orphan of this 'war', so to speak. You are no different.  All alone in this dark new world, yet you seem to find hope around every corner..."  Suddenly the man sits up and points towards the window.  Peering out the darkness gives way to a war torn city, hundreds upon thousands of the undead shamble around blindly.  "...Despite being swallowed whole by despair you remain hopeful that you, of all people, will make it to safety.  Then what?  Wait, if so for how long?"  The last question hit home for me.



         The bus bounces along the poorly maintained road as the gentle tap of rain brought me back to the real world.  Funny how you know you are dreaming, but there is nothing you can do about it.  I rub my eyes, trying to desperately remember the dream, fleeting from my memory.  The only thing I remembered right off was those last words.  "Get back on track..."  I mumbled as I look around,  unheard over the sounds of rain and machinery.  Looking up I see one of the group in the back, isolated from the rest.  "How long have I been out?"   Asking as I sleepily stumbled my way to the back, only to have been snatched back before going too far.  "Hes been bit, but we couldn't leave him behind.  We don't know how long it takes for him to turn."  Chelle had her hands on my new shotgun.  Infuriated on the inside, I calmly take my gun and turn to her, "Thanks for babysitting her, but I can take it from here."  She hesitates to let go of the grip, but yields.  Getting up she heads further to the front of the bus.  I look to the poor man, the flesh just above his ankle is shredded, but it doesn't bleed.  "Its....Its too late you know this right?  I have one request for you.  Tell me everything.  When you were bit, what symptoms are you feeling and when did they kick in."  I look him straight in the eyes and he begins to retell the last story he will ever recite.