Run

Goddamn I loe that shitty ass cover.

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1. Run

Running is futile.

They chase you, and your legs buckle under pressure, under fear. You're wavering, your body heaving with exhaustion,  as nk matter how much you like to tell people othrtwise, you don't have the body of an athlete, and if you don't survive this, you definitely never will.    

Nobody comes out of these situations unscathed, or in most cases, alive.

You of course, know this. Every horror movie you've ever seen has taught you exactly what not to do in these situations, and boy are you glad you love being terrified. The moans, the groans of the risen deceased sound behind you, the terror of their rotted breath, their corpses crawling with many a vermin propelled you forward. These things are so much more disgusting in real life.    

You don't have a weapon, and you're not stopping to grab one. You're not stopping, period. You vault over a few unturned corpses in the street, and the smell of fresh blood makes your stomach turn. Its extremely unpleasant, and you under no circumstances want to ever experience this again.  

This part of the city is under quarantine, you heard from a radio dying on the pavement. There are no ways out, unless you can reach the border of the city in time for them to see you, and save you.

Its days like this that you wish you were more active -when, or if, you get out of here, you're definitely going to take working out more seriously.

You fall. Not good. Picking yourself up again, you sprint, your breath shooting out of you as your legs continue to sway, your body continues to try and give up, because there is no way you can win, even though you can see escape.

And though escape, salvation felt so far, it was closer than one would think.

You can't wait to experience the wonder of live civilisation again.

You hit the fence, and scream out to the passing soldiers. They take a glance at you, rush to the gate, and set you free, and as gunshots echoed behind you, you stumbled away, and collapsed.    

...

...

...

That was five years ago, amd you now work as a runner, the people who run over rooftops, gassing the old quarantined city you once called a home. You are graceful, you are fit, and your team, the friends and co-workers that you entrust your life in, signal in from their own routes, voices friendly, amd lifting of your spirits.

You're not the scared child you once were. 

And though running may seem futile, you run.

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