Simply Survive: Coming Home

How long had it been since I’d been here last?  That question repeated itself in my mind as I looked over at the rubble that had once been my home.  My name is Zac, short for Zacarus, and I’m from a small little town called Goldsboro, NC.  It didn’t have a lot to offer, even before the outbreak started, but now…looking around as I drove on the remains of the road all I could see was ruin.  Walmart, Sears, Target, the local high schools, even the prison were reduced to ruins compared to what they used to be.  So far I hadn't seen anyone either.  I've always prided myself on being distant from others, on not forming attachments that would affect me, something that has kept me alive for the last year since the world went to hell, but still…even I had to admit it would have been nice to see someone or something that would make me feel the world had a chance to returning to what it once was.  I suppose I should be grateful though; if there was anywhere I would feel anything for anyone it was here.  My family had been here, so had many of the people I might have called friends, and even a few women I’d felt love for during my younger days before I left.  To see them among the walking dead, I shuddered at the thought.

My trance was broken by the sudden sputtering of my car.  “Shit.”  I muttered as I looked down at the gas needle that mocked me by sitting firmly over the E.  It wasn't that I minded walking, really I didn't.  I’d been doing it for a while now.  The car had been a luxury, maybe even a miracle if you believed in them as I happened to find it with a full tank and three full cans in the boot.  The remains of the former owner were splattered over the hood as the poor person had locked their keys in the car during their hurry.  Luckily I didn't have a problem sitting on broken glass.  It was just another set of scars as far as I was concerned. 

I looked in the mirror for a moment and sighed.  I’d never been vain before things went south.  I always considered myself to be ugly or boring in looks.  Black hair, goatee, emerald eyes, and standing at a solid 6'2…I often thought I looked like the archetype villain from a spy movie.  Of course before the outbreak I was dying too.  I had a brain tumor that required a surgery that I was too cowardly to have cause I didn't want to risk a mild loss in motor function or precious memories.  I don’t know how or why, but shortly after the outbreak occurred I was diagnosed as cancer free.  I guess what ever higher power was out there had a twisted sense of humor.  I never thought about it much regardless.

Looking ahead I couldn't help but to smile as I saw a familiar gas station.  One I used to work at ironically.  I doubted it would do me much good, but I could check and see if there was any gas left.  Even if not I could see if any of my old ‘friends’ survived. and with luck there might still be some supplies there that I could use. I was running low on water if nothing else.  As fate would have it though, that stop would change my life again, and my view of the world.