Will POV

I found myself on Sherman Street , a quaint street lined by houses to the left. These houses seemed identical, having Spanish, brown tiles lining the rooftop. Soft cream coloured outer walls, balconies on the second floor. I walked down the middle of the streets, admiring the carnage.

To the right was a grossly unkempt park - weeds springing up like monsters waiting to frighten someone. I focused back on the wreckage on the street of this once quiet neighborhood.

All I had on me was my backpack containing: my baseball bat, three cans of food and water respectively and the sleeping pills. My knives were strapped to my body - cleaned and sharpened.

I twirled one around my fingers, admiring it's weightlessness and danger. I paid no mind to the Cannibal thrashing around in the overturned car I passed. I could hear the crunch of the glass as it tried to get free by dragging itself out.

A glanced around my surroundings. I was approaching a street leading to several buildings of various establishments. A hardware store with its display window shattered. A florist with withered flowers outside and paper littering the sidewalk. A small café with its tables flipped over - some thrown into the display case - and it's chairs thrown into the street.

Probably an attempt by the previous customers to keep the approaching Cannibals away. It didn't work. This street - Patrick Steeple street - lead either East or West. I turned down the street leading East. I walked past a flock of abandoned cars - blocking not only the street but the sidewalk too.
Some doors were simply left open.

I was approaching the roadblock of cars and was about to jump over car to car when an ominous wind blew from behind me. My muscles tensed and I whipped my head around, the street was still empty - except for the lone paper skidding along the street like a tumbleweed.

I checked my time - 5:48 am.
I need to get to a rooftop soon, it's dangerous to be on the street in the first place. It's a miracle that I haven't encountered any yet.

I hopped over the cars and sped up to a quick jog. I passed more overturned cars, or regular ones with smashed windshields. One even had a door ripped off...

What the hell could've done that?

I passed random stores with shattered windows, or wooden doors bashed in. It all felt liberating yet fearsome to see the rundown state of a once populated street.

I continued East until I decided that I should be smart and not reckless. I entered the first building I found that was a similar height to its neighbours - luckily most people didn't listen to the military broadcast or else this door would be locked.

Silently I walked up the stairs - the sunlight had started peaking over the horizon, illuminating my disorganized surroundings. Papers literally covering the floor, tables tipped over - the computers that were on them cracked on impact with the ground. A water-cooler had been shoved over - soaking the carpet.

Yet no Cannibals.

I went up floor by floor. The stairs to each floor were used as replacements for the elevators - which no longer worked with no electricity. I exited the stairway - thinking that I had finally reached the roof.

Well that's what I wanted myself to believe as the reason why I left the stairway. This floor was obviously not the roof as there were more stairs leading higher up the building. I left the stairway because I heard the thudding, the bumping and the groaning coming from this floor.

And I wanted to kill Matt. I wanted to kill the Matt Cannibals. I wanted to kill the betraying, Matt Cannibals.

I cautiously opened the door to the floor while withdrawing three knives. It sounded like there were only three.
I checked my time - 7:23 am.

The floor looked like a massive board room, a reception desk adorned a wall and to the left of it I could see the corridor. I followed it and found the source of the bumping. In the board room were three Cannibals trying to smash the massive window to get outside to the sunlight. I could see then clearly through the glass wall leading into the room. Inside was a large, oval table with twelve chairs on either side. I notice that one of them had been knocked over.

There were, indeed, three of them throwing themselves against the window. The window wouldn't break - it was too sturdy.

I opened the glass door - hoping it would make a noise. It didn't. The Cannibals just continued bumping against the window. So I whistled and all their heads snapped toward me I readied myself as all three charged to me.

I saw the glowing, mossy eyes and perfect teeth on all of them - the third one tripped over the fallen chair so I couldn't see its face.

I flung one knife at the old, obese man heaving it's way to me. The knife punctured his forehead - right between those painful green eyes. His smile faded and he returned to having a face of an old, infected, business man. The second one - a woman - was closer now and I flung a knife at her too. Piercing the green eyes I thought I saw, killing that perfect smile I thought I saw - killing the man who wasn't here.

I almost forgot about the third Cannibal. It's foot was caught in the chair - it was thrashing around to free it's foot. I stood calmly, watching it.

This Cannibal has brown hair. Eventually he got free and my heart squeezed painfully. It burnt my blood. He looked like...

The Cannibal started sprinting toward me but I was frozen in... in anger. In fear.

In pain.

A lion came to life in my bloodstream. Why does he look so much like him?
I still saw the vibrant, dangerous green eyes. The eyes that I once got lost in. I could still see the smile - boyish in nature - that would make a bubble grow in my stomach. The handsome features all painted on this Cannibal.

It was closer now. He was closer now.
I slowly came out of my haze and threw a knife in its kneecap - fracturing it. Mat- the Cannibal knelt as a result. I stood above it, staring at it.

Somewhere, for some reason I expected it to tell me why it left me on the rooftop six weeks ago. For unknown reasons I expected it to offer an excuse. To apologize.

But I knew, in my heart, that it wouldn't - that he couldn't. Because he isn't here right now. He isn't here with me.

My eyes stung and I could feel the rage seeping out of its cage. I reached behind me and absentmindedly took out my bat. The Cannibal just snapped it's jaw at me.

I slammed the bat against the side of its temple and it dropped fully to the ground. Something possessed me, I couldn't stop smashing it's head in - the blood splattering on the floor,on the marble wall. Something inside me was telling me that this would get rid of him. This would make sure he's dead - it would ensure his absence.

As I violently brought the bat down on what is now a mush of brain that looks like ground meat - mashed tissue.

Is this what it is to be in love?

I slid down the wall and sat next to the dead Cannibal, tears wouldn't stop rolling down my cheeks. I wasn't crying, I made no sound. Not to stay safe and avoid attracting attention, but because I couldn't make a sound.

I wasn't crying yet there were tears. I wasn't sad yet this cold, this oh so cold cavern in my chest froze over. Leaving me empty... empty and cold. Alone.

I stood up, retrieved my knives and went back to the stairway - successfully making it to the roof. From there I continued East. I rested for a while, watching the Cannibals on the street. Just standing there - just breathing. For a second I thought about a cure. But that hope requires an amount of faith that I can't afford.
I got up and hopped to the next roof - I could see MediPharm in the distance - a big white block.

Then I saw a group of Cannibals surrounding something. I saw the swinging of a baseball bat and blonde hair moving around in a flurry.
They were crowding around a survivor. Should I help him?

I could always just leave...

I hopped over roofs until I got to his. I took out five knives and flung then one by one. The Cannibals dropped as the blade punctured the back of the skull. The man had his bat steady in both hands, ready to swing again but the dropping of the Cannibals froze him.

He blinked and looked at me as I approached the dead things to get my blades.

"Uh... thanks" he said dubiously.

"You're welcome."

I yanked out my last blade and turned to leave when he spoke again, "Where are you going?"

Am I allowed to tell him about the camp? Is that against the rules? But I can't just leave him here. I'm not like... him.

"Supposedly, there's a camp not far from here. I'm going there", I tried to be as cold as possible.

"Can I... come with you?", He sounded nervous and unsure of himself. I turned around to face him and considered him for the first time. He was a handsome man, around twenty-seven, six feet tall, dusty blonde hair, warm chocolaty brown eyes. He had chiseled features - a sharp jawline - and a big build. On one hand, he could be baggage. Yet, on the other he could be a shield.

I weighed the two and decided, "Sure."

He smiled lightly and sauntered over to me, extending a hand, "My names Logan. It's nice to meet you..."

He wanted to know my name? Why? Knowing my name won't save your life or get you food. I looked at his hand - it was tan and coarse. Another active worker.

I took off my backpack and handed it to him, "Here, carry this. It's heavy. My name is Will. Let's go."

I turned on my heels and hopped over to the next roof. I knew Logan was following close behind because I heard his footsteps. Eventually he caught up with me and we walked in stride. He didn't speak, neither did I.

I like him already.

A/N: The picture above is of Will's throwing knives.