The end of all things

It has been ten months since the dead started walking. Steve Rogers, a lanky and fragile 30 year old, walks alone in the post-apocalyptic land of America in search for his friend, Bucky. Before that, he meets a group of mismatched looters.


1. Trash Can lids turn out to be effective shields

Steve was cold under the November sky. He folded his arms over his chest to help keep out the chilly breeze, pushing the pistol into his pocket. He needed a new jacket, but no stores seemed to provide anything, as if all the worth in the towns were brushed away and left as an empty shell.

The crunching of leaves under his feet were the only sound that accompanied Steve, not even the birds were singing a tune into the wind. 
It was another nameless town with more disappointment, but it must've been beautiful once; the streets were barren except for some overturned cars and one that had ran into a lamppost; the sidewalks were as clear as ever, excluding the occasional blood splatter, and the trees lining them swayed with grace in the wind.

Staying and admiring the deathly beauty wasn't high up on Steve's to-do list, but he considered staying the night, just once. He hasn't slept in a bed since the outbreak, and that was a luxury that must be affluent here.

Steve turned a corner and saw an infected having his back to him, feasting on a dead dog of some sort. With two years of military training under his belt, Steve would've thought that a single one wouldn't phase him, but it was different.

This infected had long black hair matted to her back, wearing a torn nightgown. Steve noticed a gunshot wound that went straight through her chest. This was a child. 

Steve couldn't help but feel sorry for the girl, it was unfair that someone this young had to be turned into a walking decaying corpse.

He pulled a hatchet from his duffel bag, putting the little girl out of her misery. 

Steve was running now, starting to wheeze for breath.

There was a herd after him now, maybe ten or twenty? He had no time to count as he pulled a trashcan lid off the ground and started sprinting. 

The dead were catching up now, the stench of rotting flesh growing stronger as Steve moved along through the town. How the hell did so many show up all of a sudden??

Two infected were right in front of him when he turned a corner. Dead fingers started to draw near his arms, some infected starting to lunge. Steve took his trash can lid and slammed it against an infected's head until he heard a satisfying crack, kicking away another. Sure, he wasn't very strong with his fragile frame but kicking around reanimated humans turned out to be easy. 

Steve ran out of town, with the rest of the herd still after him. Then a warehouse came into view. He hoped and prayed it was empty as he ran towards it, stopping for a few seconds to catch his breath. 

'The warehouse door was unlocked?' Steve thought when he frantically pushed the door open and slammed it on the infected, leaving them to howl in hunger and bang on the wall. 

Steve felt a painful hit to the head before everything went black. 

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