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Flesh and Bone | Chapter 1

My father always told me to never aim for the head. He explained that a headshot would always result in a murder. Murders, he said, were never necessary, no matter who it was you were shooting at. When he taught me how to use guns as a young girl, it was always for self-defense- that and hunting, which was a hobby of his. He taught me to always aim for the legs in order to immobilize the enemy. In situations like the present, however, I find myself having no other choice than to blow these fuckers’ brains out.

However, as I look down at the trembling, pathetic figure below me, my gun pressed against its forehead, I do not see the same lifelessness in its eyes as the creatures I’ve killed time and time again. In fact, it looks quite a bit like a real woman. I’m entitled to disbelief, however, as I haven’t seen another living human in weeks since the infection. 

“N-No! Please, please, don’t kill me!” she pleads tearfully, her voice shaking with a humanity I cannot deny. “I promise, I-I’m not one of those- those things! I’m alive! I’m-”

“Alright! Alright,” I reply coldly, slowly lowering my gun as I gaze down at her. I notice her blond hair is extremely unkempt and riddled with knots and dirt, dried blood encrusting and hardening strands of her hair. Her pale yet rosy skin is dusted with dirt and blood, giving her a rather pitiful appearance. She’s also covered quite a bit in a black substance, likely the fluids that leak from those wretched creatures.

“Th.. thank you,” the woman says, her breathing shallow and uneven as she stares up at me. “I.. I didn’t know there were.. any humans anymore.”

I give an acknowledging grunt, my blank if not hostile expression remaining as I slowly begin to inch away from her. I turn and begin to make my way in the opposite direction when I hear her voice again.

“W-Wait! Wait,” she begs, her voice cracking. “Please, I-I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any way of defense, I’m barely able to fucking survive. I need help.” 

I don’t turn to face her quite yet, frozen in my tracks as I listen to her. I stay silent for a moment, sighing softly as I frown at the ground below me. I haven’t even been in contact with another human being, let alone had to take care of one. I can’t possibly do this. It’s dog-eat-dog out here.

“Please,” the woman pleas again, her words now in a weakened whisper. She sounds as if she’s about to cry. “I-I’m scared.”

Her words suddenly pierce through me, more than anything has been able to for a long while. I remember being scared. God, what an awful experience. Feeling weak and helpless. Such bullshit.

I reckon a lot of people had to have been in her position when the infected first attacked. I wouldn’t know much of it, since my father had kept me as far away from the bloody scenes as he could. I only ever saw the aftermath. Dead bodies, creatures that are zombie in nature, and a once-thriving city in stained ruin.

This could have been me.

 Reluctantly, I turn to face her again, taking in the pitiful sight of her. My eyes dart to a few wounds on her body that look painful and possibly infected. My shoulders relax the slightest bit, and my scowl subsides. 

“Can you walk?” I ask lowly. I watch as she struggles onto her feet, but her limp is evident and distressing, and that answers my inquiry. I carefully approach her and lay one hand on her back and the other just above her knees before gently lifting her off of the ground and into my arms. She’s surprisingly light for a woman of her age and height, so I’m able to manage well.

Without another word, I once again begin to make my way through the broken-down city. The dust in the air seems to be ever-present, if it can even be considered air. With our chances, it contains the very chemical that started the infection. But thus far, I haven’t been harmed by it, and so I move on.

I remember when this place was a place of safety and security. With the streets flooding with life, and butterflies and birds fluttering in the air above. So many smiles. I know damn well it’s foolish as hell to keep reminiscing about it, but it’s near impossible not to. I do miss those days. 

But they’re gone. And they will not be returning.

__________________________

I stop at a small neighborhood house - its garage, more specifically - and delicately set the girl down so I can unlock the garage door and lift it open. I turn around to cautiously scan the area before turning back to the woman and helping her up. She grunts lightly when her wounded leg and arm bend as I move her, wincing as I carry her into the garage and set her on a red couch before I close the sliding metal behind me. I take a breath before turning around to face her again, studying her wounds from afar. 

Her expression seems a bit shaken still, which is reflected in her trembling body as well. I just can’t help but pity her. Though, that may be the surprise of seeing another person after all this time. I take my time to rummage around the room before taking a roll of gauze out of a dusty drawer that’s leaning against the cold wall and approach the girl, kneeling in front of her and unwrapping the gauze, beginning to wrap it around her leg wound first. I wrap it tightly, and she inhales sharply often, her leg twitching and jerking away at times in response to the pain. 

“Quit moving,” I scold. “I can’t bandage you if you don’t stay still.” She nods in understanding, and I notice that once I return to my work, she seems to manage enough for me to get the job done. She winces a bit, but she stays relatively still. Once I finish up with the wound on her arm, I pull away from her and look her over. 

She looks at me with a slightly confused look.“Are you.. going to disinfect it? Or.. or whatever you-”

“No. Not enough clean water for that,” I simply reply, wiping my hands off with a nearby cloth before standing up again. I make my way over to a chair a few feet away from the couch, take both my knife sharpener and knife out of my pockets, and begin carefully sharpening the blade, small sparks appearing in the wake of each swipe. There’s a bit of dried blood encrusting the metal, dirtying it.

“Who are you?” she asks. I don’t answer, not bothering to look up from my hands as she just looks at me, shuffling a bit in her seat, which I can hear. “I’m.. I’m Victoria.” Her pause sounds as if she’s forgotten her name for a second.

My eyes break away to look at her for a fleeting moment. “Liv,” I state with a tired exhale. 

“Short for Olivia?” Victoria inquires. I simply nod silently, lifting my knife a bit and focusing on my reflection in it.

“How have you been surviving?” she asks, her eyes gazing in my general direction, though I catch her staring particularly at my blade a few times.

I place my blade carefully back in my pocket and turn to her. “Chance- but combat skills and survival training do something.” There’s a pause of silence as I look at her bandaged wounds. I gesture toward them. “How’d you get those?”

“O-Oh, uh,” Victoria begins as if she wasn’t prepared for that question. “The monsters, or whatever they were attacked me. Not- not at the same time, but..”

“Hm.” I pause, staring at her with a quite baffled yet cold expression. “How the hell have you been surviving?”

She looks at me and laughs weakly. “I don’t know, to be honest- dumb luck? I don’t know if I even really want to. But dying doesn’t.. seem great, so, um. I mean, I’m just glad I’m safe now.”

I shrug. That’s fair. “Yeah, well,” I say with a low, barely sincere chuckle. “Nowhere’s safe for long.”

Victoria seems taken aback from the somewhat eerie statement, and I just look back at her. I know. “You get used to it.” My eyes scan her once again. She seems quite thin, dangerously so. Somehow I hadn’t realized it until now. “When was the last time you ate?”

Just the mention of eating seems to unsettle her as she recoils a little at my words. “I don’t remember. Four days, maybe? I swear to God, I don’t even know how many days its been since.. it all happened.”

I sigh. “I don’t have anything here,” I reply, looking at the cold, cement garage floor in thought. “Or- not anything you would eat, anyways. I’ll patrol around tomorrow to see if I can find any food that hasn’t been infected.” 

She doesn’t smile, but instead gives a grateful nod. “Thank you,” she says, her words all coming out in a large exhale, as if she’s been holding her breath. I nod in return. 

After another significant pause of silence, I lift myself up off the chair. “Well, I, um.. I suggest you get some sleep, Victoria. I can only assume you haven’t slept in a long time, so take some time to rest.”

She seems to almost want to protest, but she’s evidently much too tired to begin. She settles down comfortably on the couch I set her on and she closes her eyes peacefully. She curls up into a fetal position, likely to keep a bit warmer. I remember that this garage is quite chilled; I’ve grown accustomed to it, so I tend to forget. I look around a bit before my eyes find a fuzzy fleece blanket folded up on the desk from before. I pick it up, unfold it, and lightly let it fall onto her. I notice her lips curve to a very soft, slight smile. It warms my heart for a fleeting moment. I haven’t known comfort like this in a while. 

I pause in silence, smiling a bit at her. “You’re safe,” I whisper lightly, words I haven’t heard in what feels like years. In this moment, she reminds me of a young fawn that I once found with my father. 

The poor small creature was trapped in a hunter’s rope net. It was a pitiful, sadenning sight. I was the one who initially spotted it, and my father helped me cut it free.He caught it before it could fall. Its leg was sprained but otherwise it was okay. The young deer was a beautiful display of an animal, its white speckles on its back a sign of its youth. 

“Livvie,” he said, “Always remember that not every animal should be hunted. Not more than needed. These little guys deserve to live just as much as we do. Look at that face, ain’t he a cutie?” I remember laughing and reaching out to pet it, but it ran away. 

Maybe it’s foolish of me, but I don’t want this one to be the same. 

I sigh a bit tiredly and settle myself down on my inflatable mattress that lays on the opposite end of the room from the couch. I lay down with an exhausted exhale and pull a plush throw blanket over me from the edge of the mattress. My eyes flutter closed slowly and I drift off to sleep. 

We’re safe. I almost believe it.