Page 60 of Uprising

“I have to go to Florida.” I wasn’t sure if I was still going to go, but the moment the words came out of my mouth, I knew I had to. I can’t stay here with a stranger. Not with someone that won’t share details about their past with me, even if it’s bad.

“For your friends…” He trails off.

“Yeah, yeah, for my friends.” I nod, unable to look at him. Somehow, him not fighting me about going hurts worse. But I won’t say anything. I can’t. “This… this was going to end anyways.” I’m not sure if he buys my lie or not; I barely do.

When Reed doesn’t say anything, I hold my breath and finally glance up. He stands there, his arms crossed over his chest, staring me down like I’ve kicked his dog.

“Then go.” Are the last words he says before moving across the room and slamming his bedroom door.

* * *

I don’t knowhow we went from fucking to me now being halfway down this mountain on my own. But here I am, stumbling through the tree branches, my head snapping in every direction when I hear the faintest sound. There was nothing wrong with Reed. He wasn’t the problem; I was. I had to leave before he did. Rue would tell me it’s because of my abandonment issues. Well, she’s right, but fuck her. Fuck these zombies for ruining my life. Fuck everyone. But most importantly, fuck Reed.

He let me leave. He didn’t care enough to even say bye. All I got was a backpack and a note. Sure, the bag was packed with food, a medical kit, some water, and other things. But he could have at least faced me. The note didn’t even say anything good, just a simple, ‘take the bag and be safe.’What kind of shit was that?

So fuck him.

Though it hurts. Something inside tears me apart. I thought he liked me—maybe more than that. I thought this time was going to be different. But it wasn’t. And now I’m walking away, my chest feeling hollow and aching.

It’s hard to ignore that little voice in the back of my mind whispering to turn around. That I should give him another chance. That maybe this time will be different and he’ll be honest with me.

But I know better. I’ve been there before—stuck in the cycle of half-truths. It’s always unanswered questions, feeling like it’s always within arm’s reach but out of my grasp. It’s stupid and unfair. I hate that he made me feel this way. I hate that he made me doubt my heart. Even if I want to believe in him, Ican’t.He kept things from me.

So against my breaking heart, I keep one foot in front of the other, hating everything—the air, the sound of my own footsteps, the sound of my breath—all because it reminds me of him. But no matter how much everything hurts, I don’t stop. I continue walking, putting one step in front of the other, moving away from him.

Abandoned buildings with smashed windows and the doors hanging off their hinges pass me while I pick my pace up. An old McDonald's sign that once was neon and bright is now dull and lifeless. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten in hours. Grabbing a granola bar from the side pocket of my bag, I shove half the thing in my mouth, chasing it with water.

The day was hot, sweat beading around my forehead. I almost forgot how hot and muggy the outside was since being at the cabin.

It’s not until I reach the end of the town that I notice a group of three zombies walking between the cars. My heart spasms, racing against my chest. I knew I was going to come across some, but I clearly didn’t think it all the way through. I swallow around the lump forming in my throat. Reaching back, I grab my mallet, my grip tightening as they near me.

Fear grips me like a cold hand around my throat, squeezing tighter with every movement they make. My heart pounds against my ears, uneven as sheer terror floods my veins. Every breath I take comes in shallow, barely there, as if exhaling too loudly would make them move faster.

Their eyes—lifeless—lock onto me. I want to run, but my legs feel heavy as if fear wraps around my ankles, rooting me to this spot.

Their bodies twisted and broken, flesh hanging from their decaying bodies makes me gag. I don’t think I would ever get used to seeing a dead person walking. The stench of death clings to the air, thick and suffocating as they near. My stomach churns from the smell. A guttural moan rises from the small group; panic surges through me like fire.

If there are too many you can’t take, run. Don’t be afraid that you can’t take them on. It’s better to run than to take too many on.

Reed's warning rings clear in my head. But my feet are rooted to this spot. My hands shake as I grip the mallet. The realization this small weapon might not be enough to keep me safe all the way to Florida. My breath comes in ragged; my heartbeat drums loud enough in my ear that I can’t hear anything else.

I can do this.

It’s just three. Even though it might as well be ten. I can handle three. I’ve done it before.

I take a shaky breath just as the first one reaches me, lunging. I swing before I can think anymore. The sickening crunch of its skull shatters. For a moment I don’t think it’s enough until it crumples to the ground. My stomach twists, but it’s too soon to jump for joy. The other two reach me in no time.

Fear claws at my mind—reminding, whispering—that no one is coming to save me. I’m alone out here.

The second one stumbles towards me, its arms outstretched, mouth gaping. Blood and flesh hang from its jaw. I’m too slow, my mind racing when the third one grabs at my arm. A scream tears through my throat, my body jerking back. I lose my footing and fall backwards. Both of their teeth snap at me, one of them falling at my feet. The once-alive girl grabs at my ankle. Bile rises in my throat. I kick my leg out, fearing that if I hit its mouth, she’ll take a bite out of me. Luck must be on my side because I hit the dead girl's forehead. I feel the crack of her skull against my foot before I hear it.

The third trips over the girl falling next to me. Taking it as my opportunity, I roll, climbing to my knees before slamming the mallet down into the third thing's head. Blood and brain matter fly up as I swing again, smashing its skull in. A wave of adrenaline surges through me as I move over to the girl; her body twitches as I slam the mallet into her skull.

I fall backwards, my ragged breathing being the only thing clinging to my ears. My body trembles, every nerve on edge as I wait for them to rise again. But there’s nothing.

I wait for Reed to tell me I did a good job, only he’s not here. I’m alone. It’s a quiet realization that creeps into my mind at first, and then it grows, sinking its claws deep into my chest. Twisting around my heart. I look around, waiting to see Reed to pop out of nowhere. But there’s no one. It’s just me, just emptiness.

My breath catches, my throat tightening. I try to hold it in, to swallow the pain down, but the weight of everything begins to become unbearable. It crashes over me like a wave that I never saw coming. I feel myself breaking.

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