I know how this works now.

      The undead take over the world, once that happens people lose their shit, and you wind up losing the things you love the most.

      People either get depressed, go crazy or just become monsters...that's the scarier thing than becoming one of the undead: losing yourself.

      That's when you have to save on to the little things to keep going-well it's the only thing that keeps me going, it may not work for everyone but it is what it is.

      Rule number one: Know your area, it doesn't matter if you're walking in a park or walking down a deserted city street, the undead moves in herds, never forget that.

      Rule number two: Be mindful of your weapons, a revolver may sound like a good source of protection but you must remember that ammo is limited, it would be very unfortunate to be shooting at a whole bunch of roamers then-BAM! You loose your cylinder is now empty and your insides are getting torn apart by the nimble fingers of the undead, not to mention that guns aren't suitable in every situation, roamers are attracted to noise and if you're some trigger happy idiot who loves firing rounds, it's nice knowing you. Just remember to stick with quieter weapons when dealing with a smaller herd.

       Rule number six: Never let your guard down. Ever. It's a dog eat dog world we're living in and no one in their sane mind would step aside and let you take that bag of supplies without a fight.

       Last but not least, rule number seven: Always, always have a backup plan. Save the last bullet for yourself...and this can mean a lot a things, just know that there are many ways to end it all before the pain even starts.

      My mind clears up as my partner nudges me in the shoulder with her elbow. With one blink I'm brought back to my cold reality: wandering down the vacant streets of Michigan with my close partner, Bre.

      Bre and I had met while I was on a supply run back in Macon, I was way bitter and way harsher than I am now. I was going to leave her there to die in that hopeless gas station since she threw a half empty glass of moonshine at me, the fighting went on until I pushed a shelf on top of her right leg. I decided to forget my vendetta against her and help her out, which meant taking her under my wing.

      We didn't get along for weeks after that. She would call me a heartless bitch and a unhinged little girl, I shrugged it off and soon enough she began to warm up to me.

      Sometimes she makes me wonder if she had wanted me to leave her there to die, because of the way she stopped trying to push the shelf off her leg, and that low defeated smirk that displayed across her bruised lips. Even if she did, she's grateful for my mercy now.

      Then I've learned, this world will make you depressed. Just from looking at my companion.

      Both of us are smart, mature beyond our age, we avoid the cities, never stay in one place for too long, the list can go on; we're just hanging on to what's left.

      Now we're walking down the lonely roads in some neighborhood of Michigan, looking for a place to sleep.

       "Hey." Bre breaks the silence by nudging me with her elbow.

       I shift my gaze from the clear orange and pink sky that indicated that sunset was ny. "What's up?" I ask her softly. Bre purses her lips before speaking again.

      "We should settle down and fast, daylight is burnin' as we speak." Bre suggests by jerking her thumb to several old suburban houses which in my surprise are still pretty stable.

      Before we jump into doing anything, I need to make sure that this place was low on roamers before we can make any temporary living arrangements. "We need to make sure the place is safe first." I reminded her as I readjusted my dark brown leather backpack over my shoulder.

        Now that I put it out there...it's been quiet...too quiet, we're in an old neighborhood...of course the undead got to it, some houses had doors opened with old bags in the yard.

        "Yeah...right." She mumbles sheeplishly in agreement, flipping her switchblade in and out as if it's some sort of toy to her, a faint clink following after every flick.

      "Hey...how are you holding up?" She asks me out of the blue, shifting her gaze from her switchblade towards me.

        I shrug as if my emotions are irrelevant...well to me they are. "I'm fine if that's what you're asking." I answered back emotionlessly.

        Bre shifts her gaze away from me as she slips her switchblade into the back pocket of her cargo pants. "...Aurei, you've been hella silent." Bre acknowledged with a hint of worry in her voice.

      "Which is a good thing considering that I don't want to get killed for being a chatterbox." I add in, stopping in the middle of the street. Bre rolls her eyes at my snarky comment.

      "Smartass." Bre mumbles as she stops walking alongside me. We both look around the place. Our eyes both land on a tiny, grey painted two story house that had seemed to be farther away from the other houses. The yard had nothing but random debree and grass that was tall enough to go above our knees.

      Without warning Bre, I begun to travel my way to the grey house. Suddenly I hear Bre's soft, hesitant footsteps from behind me. I drew in a deep breath as my hands found their way to my bag. This sounds like a safe place to sleep at for the night, we'll just have to leave first thing at sunrise.

      "That's the one?" Bre points out from behind me, I nod my head yes and we both ascend our way down the yard of the house we set our sights on, through the tall grass that gently swayed with our movements.

       "What do you think about?" Bre asks me as I make my way up the steps and towards the front door. Bre was pretty much infamous for random, out of the blue questions, I find it entertaining since it does get boring sometimes.

      "Things." I respond quietly as I proceeded my way towards the door, taking my cherished dagger out of my bag, my fingers tightened around the handle while my free hand had a grip on the doorknob.

      "I know it's vague but I don't really have time to be worrying about my feelings." I added, sliding my dagger down the slits of the door.

       "Aurei...you're my best friend, that's bullshit." Bre says as she holds her gun up, slowly stepping inside the house with me. The house is pretty dark which made sense with the boarded windows and what not. The hallway was pretty narrow, the yellow floral wallpaper was peeling off as there were several broken pictures on the rustic, chipped wooden floor.

       "Do you remember what happened to Israel?" Bre reminisced from behind me, our feet creaked along with the dusty floor with each step as we transitioned our way down the hallway, inviting anything...or anyone to come and take their best shot at us. I glance over my shoulder, putting a finger to my lips to hush Bre for a second.

     I step over to the left, bringing my fist up against the wall, having the loud sound echo down the hallway. Five....four. I start counting down the seconds for any roamers to come shambling out as Bre switches up her choice of weapon from a classic revolver to her trusty switchblade. We both exchange looks before ascending down the dark hallway.

      If there were any roamers, they would've definitely shown up by now thanks to Bre's voice and me banging on the wall.

      "He would always cheer us up with something dumb to say....now..."

      "Bre...that wasn't your fault." I reassure her firmly as I check one of the rooms on my left, there was a rotting corpse with flies swarming around it, maggots roamed the empty hollow eye sockets as if it was a bowl of soup, it's clothes hung loosely from his body, his entire ribcage protruding through his grey skin.

      "I know but..." Bre says, holding her switchblade upwards in her basic combat posture as she sneaks past me. "Can't stop thinking about it y'know?" Bre retorts, with a euphoric smile plastered on her face. Her light footsteps grew slightly louder with the floor creaking beneath our feet.

      "You did what he wanted you to do, you know what happens when you get bit don't you?" I remind her, sneaking back down the hall to check the living room.

       I can hear Bre draw in a deep breath from down the hall. "I know what happens." Bre said sharply, a bite of sadness in her voice.

      "It would've been worse if you didn't say goodbye." I add, my hand running along the crevices of the wall. The living room was completely unfurnished, the curtains were either torn or on the ground, the windows had cracks in them, like if you were to tap it, it'll shatter.

      "All clear?" I ask from down the hallway. Bre pokes her head through one of the doors of the rooms.

      "Only several dead bodies." She answers with a small shrug.

      She steps out of the room, walking slowly down the hallways towards me, dragging her hand along the old floral wallpaper, her eyes slowly darting left to right as if she was checking this dump out.

      "Is this it?" She asks me, snapping out of her small trance.

      "What are you talking about?" I ask her, I look at the rustic wooden chair that was set in the corner, I saunter over to the corner, dragging the chair towards the front door that we entered from, setting the chair underneath the doornob.

      "We fight...for what?" Bre asks out of the blue, I slowly turn around.

      For four years straight I've been trying to find an answer to that. But I avoid this question just to maintain my sanity.

      "To fight some more?" Bre snorts sarcastically, extending her hand out dramatically. I walk over to her, crossing my arms over my chest assertively.

      I frown at her, Bre was the type to look for a reason to live and not stop until she finds it....but if it comes to the realization that there is no answer, she'll lose her mind and whatever motivation to live.

      "You know that it's not like that." I said with a no nonsense tone. I uncross my arms.

       I click my tongue, holding my head high as I try to find a answer. "We fight...to keep fighting for the ones we care about, because it's something that they would want us to do." I answer her in the best way possible.

      "Besides...what's the point of coming this far and stopping now?" I ask her with a small smile on my face. Bre wrinkles her nose at me like I'm just a load of shit for saying that.

      "What's the point when everyone you cared about is dead?" Bre shoots back at me bitterly. I wince as if I took a punch in the face.

      My mind goes back to Avery...Dad, Mom, Sid, Roxanne, Alexis, Dakota, Sage, Fern, Santa, Jonas, Bridget and Alek. How they died. Some I had to watch fade away right in my eyes.

      "Sorry." She immediately spoke. I guess she saw the stunned look on my face.

      Speaking of looks, we looked like we've been rolling around in dust and dirt all our life, just give us a hose and we'd still not be able to get the dirt off of us.

      Bre had dark choppy brown hair that was always kept in a short ponytail in which several strands manage to escape and fall over her heart shaped face, light tan skin that was the color of a very light caramel. She had a faded scar over her pillowy sand colored lips and she had baby blue eyes that held a heart shaped tattoo below her left eye. She wore her faded teal tank top that was doused in sweat with ripped jeans that were coated with dirt and grime. She always had on her dark leather combat boots. She's pretty tall for a girl her age, not to mention she was slightly bigger than me. Bre, like any other survivor had a story.

      "Got any water?" I ask, trying to change this depressing subject.

       Bre pulls out our flask and points it downwards, "All out." She obviously states.

      "I have eyes Bre." I mutter grouchily. Bre lets a small snicker escape her lips.

      "We'll have to leave tomorrow first thing." I suggest as I walk into the living room. Well...considering that this place is completely unfurnished, it isn't a living room.

       Bre sighs with a hint of disappointment in her voice, "I wish we could find a place we can actually call home." Bre murmurs under her breath.

      For me...home is what you make of it. I prefer not to get too attached to people anyhow. Heartless, I know.

      People die.

      People betray.

      People go insane.

      But mainly people die.

      I remember back when Avery was still alive and friends with a woman named Jocelyn. Jocelyn had suffered from skitzophrenia and thought she was talking to God...when she was actually talking to herself and her thoughts.

      I know how that ended...

      My sister would want me to be better than her, not to become a killing machine that she claimed to be. If anything, I'm something worse.

      I wish she was by my side...she would always notice when something is wrong with me. Always. She'd get in my shit whenever I blow things out of proportion or do something that endangers my own safety.

      But she's gone. Forever.

      I haven't told Bre about Avery yet...because I prefer not to share my secrets...if Bre were to find out my skeletons in my closet, she'd leave me. I no longer give away aspects of my past.

      Not anymore.

      I'm more of a reserved person now. Whenever I was alone I would enjoy my solitude. Not that hanging out with Bre was bad.

      Call me a loner but it's better not to have people trying to screw you over everywhere you turn.

      That's what Dakota would tell me.

      And he's gone too...

      What the hell am I doing? I'm not getting anywhere with being stuck in the past.

      "My mom would kick my butt now." Bre reminisces again, pulling me away from my train of thought.

       I smirk at her. "What are you talking about?"

       Bre shrugs as she walks into the living room, I follow her as she explains. "Whenever I would mope around she would get so annoyed." Bre raves.

      "You're a bit of a pessimist Bre, I would understand why." I admit, Bre giggles a little as she sits down on the wooden floor, crossing her legs.

       Bre rolls her eyes at me as I join her along the floor. "And you're a bit of a loner...so I would get why you wouldn't understand."

      "I wasn't always a loner." I confess, looking her in the eye. Bre purses her lips as she stretches her arms out.

      "Yeah..." Bre begun, "I figured that much...you saved my ass back at the city." Bre tauntingly says.

      "We should find a group." Bre suggests, letting her hands rest on her knees like she's meditating.

      "You can't trust anyone Bre." I acknowledged her. "The more we deal with people, the slower we get." I lecture as Bre cocks her head back in annoyance.

      I always believed that groups fall apart, while it may be good to find refuge and a nice place to stay, regardless of how well your defenses are...no one is above the dead that walks.

      "It's the rule." I add.

      "It's always rules with you...if I find a place where they have a warm bed...I ain't complaining." Bre rambles with a small smug smirk across her face.

       I scoff. "You shouldn't be too trusting." I said, "Life goes by certain rules, apocalypse or not."

      "And you shouldn't be so paranoid." Bre shoots back, pointing her finger at me.

       I'm not about to argue with Bre. "It's not being paranoid when you're making sure no one kills you." I shrug, stretching my legs out.

      "Just because they have shelter doesn't mean that they can't sneak into your room and slit your throat." I warn, low key sounding like Avery with the last part. Gosh...Avery.

       Bre wrinkles her button shaped nose at me. "I get it Aurei, Jesus." Bre repulses.

      "We don't trust anyone." I press on, tapping my pointer finger against the floor to make sure my word stands.

      "Not anymore." We both say in unison.