By: Charlotte Bistodeau

*Warning: this story contains, depictions of violence, including suicide, and some vulgar language.

I had to hurry if I wanted to make it.

I stumbled down the street watching as the sun began to rise, just peeking over the overgrown forest, trying my hardest to go the slightest bit faster than a saunter, but I was tired from running. Not only that, the pain in my arm kept violently shooting throughout my body, making me wince each time. I could feel the bite’s poison slowly move through my veins. Hot and burning, it was creeping up to my elbow. Once it reached my heart, it would kill me. I should’ve been more careful. I was too cocky. Walkers are slow, but strong, so when I tried to push a walker twice my size off me, the walker unsurprisingly overpowered me and tore a grotesque chunk of flesh from my arm. I could barely grab my knife in time. If I hadn’t, I would’ve been turned by now. But I couldn’t let that happen. That’s why I was rushing. Trying my very hardest to get to the only place worth something before I turned. I wouldn’t allow myself to turn. I couldn’t become one of them. That was my only fear, to die and turn, then to kill and kill and kill, until I spread this curse to someone else. It was disgusting. I hated the people who were too cowardly to put down the turned. It was disgraceful to watch as a cannibalistic beast took over their bodies. I couldn’t do that to myself. So I decided to go to the only place that reminded me of a better time, before the world went to shit. A place where a smile was an everyday occurrence. Where nothing could shatter our hopes and dreams. The place I met him.

That place lay nearby; three miles, to be exact. For a slow and sickly human it felt like 20. I kept on walking, hoping I would make it before my body gave up. Just then, as I looked up, I saw it. The place I was searching for. I hadn’t noticed how close I had gotten because I was too busy trying to keep myself from being overcome by pain.

 It also didn’t help that as far as I could see there were trees. Only the road, cracked and crumbling, was an exception to the surrounding greenery. Yet, the place I was searching for was intact. The high school.

Five years ago I was here; though it seemed abandoned for at least fifteen. Standing in front of the building, I could tell it had been unkempt for years. Much like most buildings now, the concrete that covered the building was cracking. The trees surrounding were so overgrown that the shrubs underneath looked frail and pathetic from not getting enough sunlight. The building itself was the same as any other, dull, square, and beige, but now looked alive with ivy and moss. But the building wasn’t where I wanted to go, it was the garden.

The garden was located behind the school, so I mustered all my strength to make my way there. As I arrived at the far end of the school, I was shocked to see a field once plain and bare, brimming with flowers nestled within the surrounding forest. And, in the middle of the field, was a giant cottonwood tree on a small hill. The cottonwood was in full bloom, letting its seeds gracefully drift to the ground, making it look like freshly fallen snow. It was beautiful.

I let myself slowly stagger through the field, adorned with daisies and tulips, taking each step with deliberate care. I cared more for those flowers than anything in a long time. I couldn’t bear to break them. I could see him standing there in the field, smiling at me as he plucked the prettiest flower he could find. My heart hurt. I kept taking slow steps, searching for a fleeting memory, one where we were together. As I stepped underneath the cottonwood, I felt the warmth of the sun shining through the branches, making it feel as though he was there with me. Holding me. We promised to be together forever, but that was nothing but a dream.

It was the day he told me he loved me. It was the day he took my hands and smiled. It was the day I ran. I ran away with him. Running as fast as we could, away from the screams. We ran for years. Then he left. He grabbed my hands and smiled at me. All I could see was him. Yet in an instant, it all vanished as his lifeless body slumped to the ground. He was beautiful and so was his death. I chose to bury him beneath the cottonwood tree that we cherished so dearly. Now, flowers grow where he lay, where I long to lay.

I could feel the poison seeping deeper and deeper. I slumped against the tree, sliding down the rough bark, my dress getting caught on each crack. Sitting beneath the cottonwood, in snow that felt like clouds, on a hill amidst a field, with the sun gently touching my face, I couldn’t help but think there was no better place. I reached into my dress pocket and found the cold, hard piece of steel, fumbling the loose bullets. I struggled to lift it up beneath my jaw, aiming it toward my brain. I knew I was on the brink of turning, but that thought didn’t bother me. I could only find myself thinking of him. His warmth brought a smile to my face. I closed my eyes, embracing his warmth, filling me with peace. Then, as I felt a tear roll down my cheek, I took one final breath and pulled the trigger.