The Rising Corspes

*For the walking dead competition*
The apocalypse happened over a year ago. I've been on the run, ever since.

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3. The Next Step

 

Things went downhill after that. From bad to worse. 

To an unexplainable pain...

Dad and me had been on the run for around six months, we couldn't keep track of time. 'The infection' had completely spread across the globe. Across everything that we had ever known.     

    Taking everything in its path.

    Including my dad. 

Dad had stupidly ignored rule number one to survival, "Never stay in one place more than eight hours".

My dad was getting older. I could tell. He was making more and more exceptions to our rules. More stops in places that we could have afforded to miss. More time spent in one area. My dad was dying. Slowly. Drastically. Inhumanly. 

The stress of life was getting to him, vastly

We had just finished our daily raid at an abandoned house, "Waste not, want not" my dad always said, in an attempt to cheer me up. This raid was the last of the ones of this week. For some reason he was happy this time. On this 'particular' raid. I didn't question why... I didn't want anything to spoil that moment, was it too much to ask? After everything that had happened. Didn't my dad deserve a little peace? A little rest? The world was so unfair.

Dad had kicked back his feet on the yellow armchair in the corner of the room. He was snoring softly, without a care in the world. Like he didn't care...

    Caring about... Care... for...

I should have woken him then. I shouldn't have let him rest. I should have made him feel.

It's my fault my father died. 

He died sacrificing himself for the pure. For the undead. 

For the cause... 

My dad is dead.

And there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. 

 

 

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