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The wind blows softly through the barren trees, and you can hear them creak with age and exhaustion. You open your eyelids and blink, letting your eyes slowly adjust to the soft rays of sunlight coming in from the window. You take deep breaths - five seconds in, six seconds out - trying to fill your lungs with oxygen to wake the rest of your body up. Your muscles are stiff with sleep, twitching slowly as your nerves start to come back to life.
Do you...
[[rest for a few more minutes]] or [[try to sit up]]?You continue to breathe deeply, letting your body get used to the stale air once again. Every day it gets harder and harder to breathe, but at least you can attempt to slowly get used to it. Just a few more minutes, and then maybe you can get up and explore. Or, just do what you've been doing for the past few days...or has it been weeks? You've lost track of time. You let your eyelids flutter closed for a few more minutes. Broken up images flash in your mind, but they're only dull fragments of moments. Nothing comes back in order anymore.
[[Remember?]] You prop yourself up on your elbows and then slowly try to push yourself up, your back cracking in several places from laying flat for so long. The floor is an uncomfortable place to sleep, but you haven’t felt the comfort of a bed for so long that you don’t even remember what it’s like or if you miss it. You gaze around and place your hands on your hips, slowly remembering where you are. The house you’re in is in shambles. The chairs have toppled over, the rugs and curtains are ripped to shreds, and the windows are smashed and barricaded with crooked two by fours. You’re still trying to figure out how it all happened, and why. You lift your hand to your face and touch a scar on your wrist, one that you made yourself. 4|28|16. A date. It must have been important. You must have written about it somewhere. You look around you and then back to where you were laying before.
Do you...
[[investigate the house]] or [[check what's near you]]?You decide to take a look around instead. You reach down and grab hold of a worn out leather bag that you were using as a pillow and sling it over your shoulder. The house seems big, but merely a shell of what it was. You move quickly past the front door and into the kitchen, a quick glance through to find any morsel of food, but all you've come across is some candy. You take it and throw it into your bag anyway. Up the stairs, you investigate the remainder of the rooms. None of them seem interesting. You head into one of the bedrooms and find a window that hasn't been boarded up.
You [[look outside]].Maybe the things you've been keeping with you will help you jog the memory you've lost. Or at least, the memory that slowly seems to be fading with each day. You walk over to the spot on the floor you got up from and pick up your small, worn out leather backpack. It has holes in some places, and the seams are fraying in others. It looks like it's been through a lot too. Is it even yours?
[[Yes, of course it is|look inside]]
<p></p>[[No, it's not, but who cares?|look inside]]<img src="http://thethingsilearnedfrom.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/education-world-wide.....jpg" width="500" height="300">
<p></p>
<i>When life was simpler than it was now. Sunlight, fresh air, and the busy lives of busy people rushing everywhere. You were in college then, living your life trying to chase your dreams. You were happy, and you were free. But things started changing.
[[The memory is slipping away again...|try to sit up]]</i>You grab the rusty brass buckles of your backpack and unclasp them, flipping the top flap open. The inside looks like a black hole, its insides hidden by the dark, cool leather. You reach inside and pull out a beat-up journal - a composition notebook with floral details. The pages are full of scribbles and thoughts. You reach inside again and feel around, noting a few other objects: an almost empty canteen, a flashlight, a pen, some chocolate, and a dead cell phone. All useful things.
Suddenly, you hear something. A slight scratching noise coming from the front door. It sounds strange, like the sound of feral claws scratching at the decaying wood of the old house. You turn your head slowly towards the noise, your eyes widening with fear. You force a hard swallow down your throat, and you can feel your palms start to itch with sweat.
Do you [[ignore it|investigate the house]] or [[see what it is]]?You decide that there's no avoiding it. Besides, going out the back way wouldn't be any different. You inch closer and closer to the door, the scratching sounds growing louder and more frantic. You listen closely and you can almost hear the sound of whimpering. You reach out and slowly grasp the handle, letting your clammy fingers close round the knob one by one as your sweat makes your skin stick to the cool brass. You twist slowly and let the door swing open. As soon as you let go, the door pushes against you and suddenly, a warm, furry body is on top of you, licking your face. Your pry one eye open while being bombarded with saliva and fuzz, and your eyes survey a grimey labrador retriever with ears too big for his head and paws covered in dirt. "Down boy," you coo softly, as you pat him on the head. If this wasn't the most cliché companion to have during the zombie apocalypse, you didn't know what was. You move him off of your chest and stand back up. You're facing the open door and the silence outside is deafening.
Do you [[explore the outside]] or [[stay in where it's safe]]?Barren. Empty. Desolate. The neighborhood looks like it's been ravaged, and it seems to be eerily empty save for a few stray dogs. The trees have been stripped of their leaves, cars have been broken into and left on the street sprawled in different directions. Houses look burned and abandoned. You remember it all.
[[You remember everything]].<i>Everything was fine. Normal. But everyone started getting sick...so sick. People started stealing from one another, struggling to survive the epidemic. Everyone wanted to live. That's how we humans are. We just struggle and fight because we want to survive. Even if that means turning against one another. We destroyed ourselves...and now we're the only things keeping each other alive. The living by helping one another...the dead by giving them something to live off of. This was only supposed to happen in movies. This wasn't supposed to happen in real life.
<p></p>
The details start to slip away again...</i>
You hear the faint sound of scratching coming from downstairs, and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on edge. You creep slowly out of the bedroom and down the stairs, stopping halfway to listen closer. It could be anything...<i>anything</i>.
Do you [[slowly investigate|see what it is]] or [[move for the door|see what it is]]?You take a deep breath and clench your fists. <i>One foot in front of the other, now</i>, you coach yourself. As you step outside, the air is smokey and smells of gasoline and burnt flesh. Lovely.
<p></p>
The dog trails after you eagerly, wagging his tail as he matches your pace. You look down at him and smile, and if dogs consciously knew they could smile, then you're pretty sure he'd be smiling back. It's nice to have a companion, especially now. You remember the chocolate you acquired from the house you were in and pull it out of your knapsack, breaking off a small square and feeding it to your new friend. He seems eager as he wolfs down the sweets, sitting down to gingerly lick his snout and paws. There isn't much left, so you break off a tiny piece and savor it, your stomach grumbling in discontent. You have to find food.
Do you [[look inside another house]] or [[look out here]]?You decide to stay inside. The odds of survival seem much more fair in here than they do out there. You put your hand on the door and shut it, clicking the lock as the knob shifts into place. You turn around and the dog is looking at you expectantly, wagging his tail and panting. You give a soft smile and think, <i>At least there's some hope to look forward to, even if it's in the form of this dog</i>. You figure that it's best to try and check out the rest of the house. Maybe you'll find something of use. You walk towards the kitchen on the first floor and sigh, hoping that maybe there'll be something good around, even though checking upstairs left you disappointed.
Do you [[look through the cupboards]] or [[check the rest of the house]]?You figure that maybe if the last house still had supplies, others are bound to as well. The dog wanders off to the backyard of another house, and you decide to check that one out. The front door is ajar, and it looks about the same as the last one: battered, dismal, and empty. You step past the threshold and the floor creaks beneath your weighted combat boots. It smells in here, almost stronger than it does outside. You cup your hand over your nose and mouth and squeeze your eyes shut as you try to compose your churning stomach. The smell of death and rotting flesh was never something you thought you'd have to get used to. You walk across the foyer that leads straight into the kitchen. The cupboard doors are all wide open, baring their empty insides to anyone hoping to find something.
Do you [[look through the cupboards]] or [[search a different room]]?Maybe you'll have better luck looking for something outside. Despite the whole apocalypse, the neighborhood used to thrive with fruits and vegetables, so there could definitely still be something to find. You search through bushes in front yards and backyard gardens, but can't find anything save for a few berries and some mushrooms. You gather them one at a time in your left hand, spitting in your right hand, and then rubbing the saliva over your finds. There was no other way to clean them, so this would have to do. It's a comforting thought, thinking how at least the illness didn't destroy <i>everything</i>. Even so, this wouldn't be enough to get both you and the dog through the night.
Do you [[look inside another house]] or [[look around some more]]?You decide to look through the cabinets anyway -- some people don't pay attention to detail as much as you do, at any rate. You zero in on one of the smaller cabinets, the door closed more than the others. You pull the door open and are greeted with clouds of dust. Coughing, you fan the air in front of you to try and make the dust particles disperse. Meanwhile, the cupboard looks depressingly empty as your hopeful hands parse through the wooden spaces. You reach farther back on the top shelf and your fingers trail over something sturdy. You clasp your hand around it and carry it past the threshold: sweetened corn. Well that was pretty lucky. You tighten your grip on the can.
Do you [[keep looking]] or [[check the rest of the house]]?The cupboards look so sad and barren that you'll probably have better luck looking elsewhere. You round the corner at the edge of the kitchen and run upstairs. Like the last house, each room looks like it's been ransacked, with two by fours boarding up each window. You find old wrappers, empty bottles and cans, and clothes. Nothing new here. Maybe you should've checked the kitchen just in case.
Do you [[check the cupboards downstairs|look through the cupboards]] or [[check the rest of the house]]?<i>If I could find this here, then there has to be more somewhere,</i> you think to yourself. As you continue to rummage through the cupboards, you hear something coming from far behind you. Your hands freeze where they are as your eyes widen with caution and your breath catches in your throat. It's hard to imagine what it could be this time, but at this point it could be anything. You close your eyes and swallow, the saliva forcing itself painfully down your dry throat. Maybe it's another dog. That's a comforting thought.
<p>It sounds like a muted thumping followed by a light sputtering. <i>Thump. Drag. Sputter. Thump. Drag. Sputter.</i></p>
<p>That doesn't sound like a dog.</p>
Do you [[turn around]] or [[continue searching]]?Hopeful, you run to the other side of the house across the foyer, where there seems to be a guest bedroom and an office of some sort. The guest bedroom is a mess like the rest of the house, but the office looks like it's in the best condition. Even so, you find nothing here. You walk back through the foyer and into the kitchen, still holding on to your prized can of sweetened corn. <i>Maybe the rest of the cupboards will have more stuff, if I just double back and check again, I can make sure,</i> you think to yourself.
[[Check the cupboards again|keep looking]]You muster enough courage and take in as much air as your lungs will allow. It's time to face whatever this is, but you're mentally crossing your fingers and hoping that it isn't what you think it is. You exhale. You rest your hands at your sides and ball them into fists. You aren't ready. You whip around and press your back into the counter, steadying yourself ... and [[there he is]].You decide to ignore it. You've been through hell and back with the way the world has turned, and you're not about to let some sounds fool you into fear. You continue rummaging and chance upon some extra cans of sweetend corn, some preserved fruit cocktail, and some chicken noodle soup. You'll be set for a few days, you're certain of that. It's a good thing you double checked. As you throw the newfound loot into your knapsack, the sputtering sounds have grown louder, and closer. You close your bag uneasily.
Do you [[turn around]] or [[stay still]]?<img src="http://i.huffpost.com/gen/1620631/images/o-ZOMBIE-facebook.jpg" width="500" height="300">
Slowly gaining pace while limping out of the shadows, a grotesquely dripping husk of a body slinks its way towards you. His head is cocked to the left, his eyes empty and sickeningly milky white, and his mouth agape, blood dripping from his chin and tendons laced between his teeth. His clothes are tattered and hanging off of his body, covered in gore and what smells like piss. A closer look shows that his skin is doing the very same thing, hanging onto his decaying bones like drapery. His right leg is bent at a strange angle, and it makes a cracking and sloshing sound every time he puts weight on it.
<p></p>
<i>"Uuuuunnngghhhhhhh..."</i> he moans. When his gaze focuses on you, he starts to pick up the pace, groaning louder and more aggressively. You look around frantically, trying to find something to use as a makeshift weapon. You spy a frying pan on the right, and a butcher's knife on the left, but both require getting dangerously close and cutting time even closer. One of those will have to do.
Do you [[grab the frying pan]] or [[go for the knife]]?You leap towards the right and grab the handle of the frying pan with both hands, and in one fluid motion you whip back around and take a good, hard swing at the zombie's head. With a crack, it pops right off his body and knocks into the cupboards, his body toppling over from the force. You leap over the writhing carcass and bolt for the door. Letting out a loud whistle, you break down the sidewalk and run away from the house. A howl sounds in the air, and suddenly your furry companion is running beside you, matching your pace. You pass a few more houses, and finally you reach a park with a large pond. An angry half-groan, half-shout sounds behind you, echoed by a few others in the distance. Where now?
Do you [[hide in a bush]], [[hide in a pond]], or [[confront the zombies]]?You figure you'd go for the more lethal of the two. You break into a half-sprint, half-lunge and try to grab the knife. As you wrap your hands around the handle, you imagine slashing it through the zombie's neck and decapitating him all at once. Just as you begin to turn towards him, he's already lunged at you with the help of his good leg, knocking the knife out of your hand as you topple to the floor beneath him. You feel his rancid breath in your ear as he takes a labored bite into the side of your face. You feel your skin break as you let out a bloodcurdling scream. You hear the sound of tearing, and you know that you're going to be ripped in half. Your heart is beating at speeds you cannot physically take, and the sensations send shock waves rippling throughout your body, causing it to convulse. You hear a spluttering groan, and as the smell of rotting flesh invades your headspace, your vision goes dark.The bush won't cover your scent, and it seems to be too small to completely conceal your entire body. You have to think of something, quick.
Do you [[hide in a pond]] or [[confront the zombies]]?You turn to look at the pond, your eyes hopeful. You start walking in the direction of the water and try to think of a plan. You run your hand through your hair in distress and casually scratch an itch on your arm. The water looks filthy - it's tinted green with scum and there's garbage on the other end. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, slowly submerging one leg after the other until you're up to your neck in pondwater. You slowly make your way to the bush on the right side as you hear what sounds like a zombie horde nearing your location with roars, moans, and lots of foot-dragging. You put your hands over your mouth and hide your head behind the bush. You start to feel kind of funny, almost woozy.
[[You wait.]]You knew you couldn't run forever. You knew that it was only a matter of time before you'd run out of houses to hide in, or roads to travel. It was time to take a stand. You turn around, iron-cast frying pan in hand. You look down at it and frown. <i>Well, I mean this feels kind of stupid...but I don't think I really have a choice,</i> you think to yourself. The dog circles around you and then settles into a low stance beside you. From far away you can see the one zombie from the house running at breakneck speed towards you. Suddenly, two run up from behind him, then five more, then ten more, until the horizon is blocked out and you can no longer count the numbers. You clench your fingers around the handle of the pan.
Do you [[run headstrong]] or [[go pan first|run headstrong]]?You and the dog start to sprint, matching pace with the sickening horde. You cock your arm back, pan in hand, and prepare to swing as you collide with the first zombie and [[then -]]You roll over and open your eyes. It's morning, and sunlight streaks in through the slats of the blinds on your window. You turn onto your left side and your bed squeaks as it carries your weight. He's lying next to you, eyes watching you carefully as a sweet smile spreads across his face.
<p></p>
"Good morning," he croons, his voice still husky with sleep. He reaches his arm out to touch your face, and you smile.
"Hey, good morning..." you reply, your tone slightly confused with a tinge of worry. His eyebrows furrow with concern.
"Another one?"
"Yeah...another one." You close your eyes and nestle yourself in his arms, letting sleep wash over you and him once again.You've already looked, but can't find anything else. You need to find more soon, or else it'll be a rough night.
Do you [[look inside another house]] or [[look around some more]]?The sound of dragging and gurgling comes closer. You hold your breath, but your head is starting to feel light. You feel the pit of your stomach burn like a hole - this is the worst hunger you've felt in a while. You should've eaten the rest of the food you found before, but now it's all ruined with the foul, scummy water. You sniffle followed by a light cough that you try to choke back. The footsteps stop but the moaning continues.
[[Keep waiting.]]You decide to take a peek. You carefully poke your head out from the side of the bush and see that the horde has stopped running. They're standing in a large group, and they seem confused. They're all groaning and swaying, looking around in different directions. You wonder why they can't smell you or sense you, but then chalk it up to the smell of the pond.
Do you [[stay in the water]] or [[get out]]?You figure a few more moments here should help to keep you safe, or at least hide your scent in the air. You hear subtle grunts and groans from the horde, and you wonder if you'll be able to make it out of here alive. You've made it this far, you can't turn back now.
Do you [[get out]] or [[attempt to distance yourself|get out]]?You put your hands on the grass next to the pond, and try to hoist yourself up behind the bush. You kneel behind it, but you find that your breath has intensified to be deeper and more raspy. You wipe your dripping nose and scratch the same itch on your arm, only this time it's even worse than before. You feel a sneeze coming on. Your breath catches, and then you let it out. The sneeze rocks your body and causes you to fall to the side of the bush, exposing you to the horde. Suddenly, you hear a bark and the dog rushes towards you from the far left side. He comes up to you and tries to lick your face. He smells different.
Do you [[try to get up]] or [[pet the dog|try to get up]]?You reach your hand out to the dog and sit up. One of the zombies notices you, and starts walking towards you, but at a normal pace this time. A few other zombies follow suit. The dog looks at you and growls, baring his teeth as you place your hand on him. His scent wafts up and smells savory, almost appetizing. You try to speak but the words get choked in your throat, coming out in a low snarl. Your grip tightens on his fur as you pull him closer. The rest of the zombie horde have come closer, circling around - this time focusing on the dog, and not on you. You scratch the itch on your arm and look down, seeing a few bloody scrapes lined with yellow pus. <i>[[Oh no...]]</i>You gaze at your reflection in the pond where the water has cleared from when you pulled yourself out. Your eyes have sunk deep into your sockets, and your face looks bony, the skin starting to hang loosely. Your complexion has changed to a dull grey, and you can barely speak words. You turn towards the dog and bare your teeth, lips curling back until they can no longer be seen. The dog whimpers as you lean in close, followed by the others. You take the first bite.You wait for the sound to grow closer and closer, until it seems like something is breathing down your neck. You clench your fists and squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath and willing whatever the entity is to go away. But it draws nearer, and you know that it won't go away, no matter how much you wish it would.
Do you [[turn around]] or [[try to walk away|there he is]]?