We were supposed to create something. Whether it be a story, an empire, a child. Who knows. We may never.
In the last few years since the breakout, I've done my best to put all hope aside. I've given up on "finding" anything. All that is left is now. All that is left is me and what I make of my time.
I heard there was a cure. "Was" a cure. The Justice kidnapped whoever discovered this so-called "blessing" and will use it against us. I've seen what this disease can do to someone. To a child. It ain't pretty.
The bombs left a ringing in my ear. I hear it when I sleep, when I hunt, when I cry. I know it's only a matter of time before they find us. No, not the roamers, the crazies, the stalkers, the walkers, the dead, the corpses, the lurkers...zombies.
Not them.
