The start or how we survived

Amber's StoryJohn knew something was wrong the moment they reached the ridge overlooking the city.

He and Nick had been off-grid for a week—deep woods, no signal, and no news, just river water and campfire smoke—the perfect week. 

The skyline should have shimmered in the afternoon sun. Instead, smoke rose in thick, greasy columns. Nick lowered his pack slowly. “That’s not normal.”

Sirens wailed faintly in the distance—long, broken, and overlapping. Not emergency-response sirens, Endless ones. Where are the police sirens? The ambulance? Where is the emergency response to this destruction?

They didn’t speak again until they reached the edge of downtown.

Cars sat at odd angles, doors hanging open. One had plowed through a bus stop, a severed leg hanging off the roof. Another idled against a fire hydrant, water spraying into the street like a forgotten fountain.

The smell hit next. Rot.The smell of an animal too long in the sun but wrong somehow. 

A figure stumbled from between two abandoned SUVs.

John froze. “Hey! You okay?”

The man’s head snapped toward them.

His face was gray. His jaw hung loose, something dark crusted along his chin. He didn’t answer. He just lurched forward. More shapes moved in the shadows behind him.

Nick didn’t hesitate. “Run.”

They bolted, this was too weird and too wrong for anything else. 

Boots pounded pavement. Packs thudded against their backs. The week in the wilderness had hardened them—strong legs, steady lungs. They vaulted a fallen bike rack and cut through an alley, the moans rising behind them like a hunting pack.

John risked a glance back. There were dozens now.

They burst into a sporting goods store through shattered glass. John snatched a metal baseball bat from its display.

The back door led to a side street. Clear—for now.

They didn’t stop moving until the buildings thinned and asphalt gave way to cracked country roads. Night found them hiding in an abandoned barn miles from the city, the distant glow of fires painting the clouds orange.

“What happened while we were gone?” John whispered.

Nick shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. City’s dead. Fucking literally.”

The next morning, they headed north—deeper into the hills. If the city had fallen, they needed isolation. They’ve camped before, and they are used to foraging and hunting. It’s winter that will kill them. The cold and the snow. They need to find shelter or build one.

They followed deer trails and logging paths, moving quietly. Twice, they spotted small groups of the infected wandering the outskirts of small towns, as if drawn outward from the urban chaos.

The pair had walked for almost two weeks before they found the cabin. Isolated and with a well in the back, a bucket still glistening with water sat next to it. “Wonder if the water there is good.” Nick muses thoughtfully. John shrugs, jerking his head to the side.

A barn. It’s slightly run-down but still sturdy, and from inside… moaning. They circle, pausing for only the briefest of moments as a teen wearing….wearing fucking wizard robes tears into someone. A young girl watches in horror, unaware of their approach.

She jumps when John puts his hand on her shoulder. “These are your friends. You shouldn’t have to watch this.” He said and gently turned her to face away. His sledgehammer lands with sickening crunches, and both zombies permanently down. 

Nick and John keep their  distance, looking around the area.  John walks towards the teen as she finishes vomiting. “Miss, I’m sorry that happened, and I’m sorry to scare you. You’re welcome to join us. Though...You have a nicer area. We’re just in tents,” He laughs and extends his hand. “My name is John.”

She numbly takes his hand, nodding. “Mizz….uh, Amber. My name is Amber. Yea….more people here would be good.” She swallows hard, shuddering as the stranger gently touches her shoulder. “It’s late. Come on, Amber. You’ll be safe in our camp, and we’ll….take care of the bodies tomorrow. We’ll bury them.”

Late that night, Amber starts to talk. “Cities fell first,” she said. “Too many people. Too close together. I’ve seen some drifting out this way, but not many. We keep the noise down, we’re okay.”

We. The word hung there.

That night, they took shifts. John watched the tree line while the others slept. The forest was quiet—real quiet. No sirens. No screaming.

Just wind through branches. 

For the first time since seeing the smoke over the skyline, he felt something almost like hope.

They hadn’t saved the city.

But they had escaped it.

And in a hidden cabin deep in the hills, with careful planning and steady aim, they just might survive what was left of the world.