Keep Me Breathing

The last time he was in the rain, he was running away.

                     With rapid blinking of coal lashes to filter his vision through the rain,                              sneakers loudly squelched, as if breaking the noise                              barricade, filtering all the sound through. Even then it                              was quiet. He hated it as much as he needed it. Pushing                              soaking hair from damp skin, trained eyes zoned in on the                               only moving object within the radius of the park he could see.                                               A boy? No. A man.                                                        A stranger all alone in the rain, dripping wet.                                                                      So much like himself.

Whatever compelled him to stop only feet away needed explanation.

                       But, Cayden really never could form the words for anything he had                             done—none of the decisions he’s made up until now.                             But he did open his mouth, tongue momentarily sticking                             to the roof, before uttering,

☠—;;  Ellie couldn’t tear her eyes from the door, even with the rotting piece of wood she had placed over it. Sure, it wouldn’t withstand too brutal of an attack, but at least she would be awake and alert.              Stringy stands of brown hair shifted as the teenager shook her head; now wasn’t the time to be thinking of something so irrelevant. With another gust of breath pushed through chapped lips, Ellie was calm again, well, maybe not calm, but she was definitely focused. Slender, trembling fingers wrapped around the rubber handle of her knife, the relatively soft material having molded to her grip by now. It was clear that she wasn’t dealing with infected — ad in many ways, that simply made the fight that much more nerve-wracking.             There was no way of indicating how armed the other was, and their level of stealth, skill, hearing — Every new  human was a wild card. Perhaps she would have liked the challenge, if she wasn’t in a cabin with her supplies out in the open, with no easy way to take them and get out in a timely manner. The adolescent mouthed inaudible curses, waiting for something, anything, at this point, to happen.               Though it would be a lie if she said she wasn’t taken off-guard by the kind of change she got. The voice on the other end seemed young, naive, kind even. This thought too, she shook off in a matter of moments.

                        Charlie nearly jumped right out of his skin when an answer-and a sharp one at that-was given. Anticipation and paranoia ate at him worse than the raging snow storm he currently stood within, skin so cold to the touch that Charlie feared if touched too roughly it would shatter and fall away like brittle paper. He's suddenly aware of how badly his body is trembling, nearly frozen on the inside and out. It's quite obvious to Charlie that he has made the wrong choice. Not only is this cabin occupied, but its resident(s) don't seem like the trusting or sharing type. From what he could hear, they sounded young, feminine, like-like a child. The idea worries Charlie greatly, but what can he do?

The brunette grips both sides of himself, teeth chattering as he looks around for anything else remotely related to shelter; but there's nothing, and he's sure there will remain nothing for miles. Frigid wind whips at his dirty, dark brown hair, obscuring his vision worse than the rampaging blizzard. Should he turn back? Bunker against the cabin until this storm ends, if it ever does? No, impossible...he'll become an icicle the second he stops moving. "W-Wait, please, I don't-"

Charlie's nerves spun dizzily, and his tired mind swore that ever shadow out in the wilderness around him was just another one of those horrid creatures, racing like a bat out of hell towards their next meal. He swallowed thickly, looking at the door again. Just when he was about to lose hope in this potential safe haven, Charlie heard the tell-tale sound of movement inside, more-so near the door. Was he being let in? Were they taking a chance in trusting him, a complete and total stranger? Or would Charlie be greeted by a gun barrel or blade in his face? He'd know in less than a second.

He wanted to feel the familiar security of his ax, because without that weight gripped between shaking fingers, he felt vulnerable, naked almost. But Charlie is sure that appearing to whoever was behind the door unarmed was the best choice; they might attack if they saw his weapon.

☠—;;  Ellie sat idly on a couch, her body unusually clean, except for a couple of splatters of dried blood — Nothing she wasn’t used to.             The adolescent struggled to keep her eyes open, as she thumbed through the worn pages of a comic book she has read dozens of times. The girl stopped for a second to stare at a character that looked familiar — a middle-aged man baring an uncanny resemblance to her companion, Joel. God, who knew where he was now?              The girl struggled to swallow a lump that had formed in her throat, as she closed the comic and tossed it distastefully to the ground, joining the discarded bandages, shells of weapons, even spare crafting supplies.              It was strange, when she had been able to build up something of a safe house, she wished nothing more than to do something, but when she was in the midst of battle, she wished nothing more than the idleness she was experiencing now. Human nature, she concluded, it’ll be the downfall of us all.

                        He still had no earthly idea how this atrocious nightmare began. The answer, whether true or imagined, was lost somewhere in the haze of his befuddled mind, unable to be grasped now, or probably ever. And it is truly, wonderfully amazing how he has yet to come face to face with death, caused by either a stopped heart out of pure fear, or one of those things that inhabit what he figures is the entire world. Even with limited memory, Charlie can piece together the clues. He recalls the term zombies and apocalypse, both of which are supposed to be nothing but fictional tales from movies, books, and television. Fictitious, impossible, ridiculous. And yet...this place that he has been so boorishly tossed into, seems to have known nothing else but unspeakable horrors. Despite being here for three days, Charlie has yet to mentally and emotionally come to grips with his fate.

But then, rabid, infected creatures trying to rip out your throat with their rotten, blackened teeth can very quickly whip around a person's perspective. Again, he is astounded that he still breathes with the amount of pure, raw fear that has shocked his heart God knows how many times since arriving. Charlie has never killed or harmed another individual in his life-that he knows of-, but he's been forced to do many heinous things thus far to keep himself alive, and the knowledge that someone else's blood stains his clothes and skin has brought tears to his eyes more than once. He knows he has to keep moving, he has to get away--Charlie knows not where he is supposed to go or how to even continue surviving in this wretched world, especially alone...but he has no choice. Perhaps this realization, the natural fight or flight instinct to endure is the only thing keeping him alive.

And boy has he never hated snow so much than right now. Luckily, Charlie had managed to find an over-sized jacket and some boots(that he'd taken from one of those infected who had tried to kill him) back in the ruined city he had left hours before, but those few items could only get him so far. Freezing, hungry, tired beyond belief, and scared out of his wits, Charlie trudges through the thick snow, hoping to God he does not run into anymore of them anytime soon while he's at such a disadvantage. The hand ax he carries will do him no good if he is immobilized by freezing slush and rushing winds.

However, he manages to spot a cabin not too far away that instantly lights a radiating fire within, hope sprouting sporadically. Using what little strength he has left, Charlie races as fast as he can towards it, snow sticking to his clothes and weighing him down. The youth comes to a stop, breathing heavily, staring through thick white puffs of frozen air at the wooden door before him. Hesitation suddenly swallows him. What if there are zombies or whatever inside? What if the cabin is already occupied and he is killed on sight before being given the chance to speak? What if, what if, what if. Charlie can't afford anymore of those. Licking over frozen lips, Charlie lifts a hand and knocks, not wanting to just barge up in there. Silence. Charlie blinks, heart beating rapidly. Does that mean-its clear? Or is something/someone waiting with weapon in hand to strike him down the second he steps foot inside? Damn it all....I have to risk it now......

"This is my club and if you think calling the police is going to help you then you are dead wrong. They know my rules and they go by them as well." It was a place to get away from their wives so of course they weren’t going to shut it down or drag him away. Even if they did he had the money to get out in minutes — no seconds. "So, what’s it going to be? Empty handed or are you gonna suck it up and work?"

Charlie's anger and frustration bubbled beneath the surface like an active volcano, despising this man more and more with every spoken word. He felt a brief stab of pain about the whole 'you're not supposed to order water' bit, like he was blatantly being called stupid right to his face, already feeling dumb for trusting those bastards he dared to call friends for even a quick second. Charlie's cheeks burned red, hands tightening into fists at his sides. He couldn't believe he's being scolded by someone he doesn't even know. "That's not what I-" The youth's breath hitched in his throat when suddenly touched, feeling the biting pressure of fingers gripping his chin.

I fucked up, I fucked up so bad. Charlie felt backed into a corner, between a rock and a hard place with no way out--except to obey. For something as trivial as a cell phone, is Charlie willing to do as this man says and work for him? If not, he'd be giving up, offering his exposed belly to a hungry wolf; not to mention it'd be an extreme blow to his pride. And who knew what this club owner was capable of? Charlie didn't....want to find out. Regaining himself, Charlie glared and swatted that intruding hand away, staying right in place. "....Fine...I'll work for you...but only until I earn my phone back!" That's reasonable enough, right?