My face was caked with dirt and mud when they found me.

Alone, I was clutching my compound bow like a life line, as I felt blood seep from my eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. 

The third wave, was meant to wipe out those who survived the first two as efficiently as possible. I can't exactly blame the Others, us human are a pain in the ass. 

My body was churning and burning, I felt like I was going to implode.

'I'm going to die here..' I was thinking.

My life was pretty good before the waves, all A student, a best friend who loved me, a little sister who was so happy go lucky I thought she was going to throw up rainbows, and two parents who always supported me.

But their all dead now, so I guess that doesn't really matter anymore.

The soldiers found me though. Lying in the dirt my choppy orange hair tangled, blood streak across my face, saying inaudible things. 

They hoisted me up over one of their shoulders, and dragged my backpack. I could barely make out the blurry outline of a school bus.

They plopped me down in a seat and said something like, "Your going to be okay." 

But I knew they were lying.
I never once let go of my bow.

                                                                                       ...

We eventually stopped, and I was rudely awakened from my dazed state by bright lights coming through the bus window.

The soldiers said something about 'Wright Patterson Air Force Base' and I was loaded off the bus and handed a dog tag with the number 719 imprinted in it. A man on an over com called for all of us to stand on a red circle. Hundred of other kids were being unloaded from buses.

My backpack over one shoulder my bow tightly grasped in my right hand, I staggered my way towards a red circle with the other kids.

"710. 710." A man with a microphone calls in till the damned kid says here.

I sigh as I feel myself get dizzy and blood clouds my vision. Eventually he calls my number, "719."

"Here.." I croaked, I haven't heard my voice in months since I haven't had anyone to talk too.
I have probably changed a lot since the waves the waves started.

I was a junior and the scariest thing I was facing was passing my ACT, and playing Volleyball. I used to smile a lot and was never afraid to speak my mind or opinions. I like to think I still do, but I've changed, we all have.

I was directed by soldiers through a brightly lit doorway, They brought me to a quarantined floor reserved for plague victims, nicknamed the Zombie ward. 

Well I guess I checked into the Zombie ward hotel and if what the doctor lady said was true I have a one in ten percent of leaving alive. Yay.

Doctor Pam was the doctor lady. She was so sweet she reminded me of my Mom. But I guess that's bedside manner, they hooked me up with a morphine drip and drugged me nonstop while I was there.

The Red Death has no cure, so all they can do is keep me doped up in till the disease inside me decides it likes what it's tasting.

There was a boy next to me, dark brown hair, sunken in brown eyes. In another life I may have found him attractive, but this is my life now, and the nurses pulled my curtains closed to fast for me to get a good look at him.

I kept going in and out of delirious states, where my mother would be reading to me like when I was a kid with her silky smooth voice and kind eyes.

I used to be sick a lot as a kid. Asthma is the worst basically. For those who don't know Asthma is a respiratory disorder meaning my brocial tubes are smaller than they are supposed to be. So when I get sick, I get sick longer than the average and it sucks.
So basically my lungs hate me.
End of story.

By my third day in this living hell, I had a hundred and five fever and I was sweating nonstop with droplets of blood on my skin. While laying in an uncomfortable bed you tend to think a lot about life. Everyday your closer to death. Sick or not life is a constant battle against the clock, you have to live life to the fullest because you never know what day will be your last.

But I have a feeling that clock goes by a lot faster and you get to meet the grime reaper earlier than one should now.

By the fourth day my fever had gone down exponentially and i'm able to get down semi-solid foods without hurling my guts up.
By the fifth day everything had begun to clear up and i'm beginning to think that I may make it to tomorrow.
Six days have passed in this wrenched place and Doctor Pam declares that the worst is over and takes me off of all medication. I was  a bit upset I was going to miss my morphine. I sat up and reached for my bow and backpack next to my bed, I reached down and it wasn't there. I swung my head over the bed to look and saw just bare stone floors.

'No.' I ran my hand through my matted hair. When I asked doctor Pam where it was she played innocent. "I have never seen it Hun, but we are going to move you into the convalescent ward to get you back onto you feet."

"What!" My breathing got heavy and I could barley squeeze out a breath without coughing my lungs out.
"Calm down!" Doctor Pam rushed to my side and rubbed my back as I tried to control my breathing.

'How could I calm down, that bow was my lifeline.'

I began wheezing and a nurse came over, I saw a shot in her hand. That was the last thing I remember about that room.

....