All Hope is lost

It was dark. The night air was filled the stench of lifeless,
rotting corpses. Unfortunate hikers who have failed to reach Hope. As the clouds swallowed the moonlight. Nothing was visible in the veil of night. I continued for a while not knowing for sure what was ahead and was then halted by an uneasy feeling. An ominous silhouette of shadow sways in the thick darkness, but no sound, no light; other than that of heavens eye, dimmed by the hands of the clouds. Night in the wilderness gives not much sense for the eye, but I knew for a while I was walking with a road which was rumored to lead to Hope. My only answer when calling out is grinding metal in a distance. Then a clank. Sounds of what seemed to be a car door or large tray hitting then slamming into one another. Other sounds in unison come from in front of me. Some not so distant as the first. I am numb and only need the feeling of my weapon to comfort myself. Knowing what is to come I reach into my backpack and pull out one of my remaining flares. I light it up and gaze into the vacant eyes of three of the fallen refugees who were headed for Hope. The smallest, a girl, who most likely never even saw her 13th birthday staggered towards me. Followed by what I could only guess were her Father and some other stranger. After everything that I've endured through out my aimless wandering and now search for Hope I didn't have it in me to take out the little girl. Though it wouldn't have been the first zombie youth I had taken out. I turned and walked the other direction leaving the three walking carcasses to stumble after me like wounded animals wanting food....or just a companion. But to these animals I was the food and they were no company I wanted to keep. I make my way around a wreckage of two vehicles; an old station wagon in no condition to make it through the hills and terrain of this land, and a truck with two flat tires. With the three lost puppies lurking behind me, the two men at a faster pace then the girl, I decide to quickly search the truck and wagon for anything of use. Empty. I walk about fifty to sixty yards and see what a looks like a dangling corpse, hung. I walk up to the rotting mess and light it up with my flare. The flames give birth to a scene I have not encountered since The cabin days ago. Bodies scattered around the tree. Bodies I thought were clumps of sand like little hills; illusions of a black wilderness. My gaze creeps along the path of the dirt road;Death. I have not forgotten about the dead trio still hungry nearing my three course body. I stare with no qualms or fear at a few more cars lined up headed in my direction. Bodies of children, men, women, a dog. Refugees. I make out three vehicles and maybe a fourth faded in the darkness. I turn back. The stumbling was growing closer. Numbness doesn't always refrain a person from acting as if they were feeling certain ways. Especially fear. Even if fear cannot be felt certain habits will be remembered. I thank fear for the gift of survival. I untie my Axe/Mace, welded by my hands, and stepped towards the meat bags. Two clean swings and they were dead......again. The girl followed behind them. Another pause.
I stood up off of the hood of the first car in the lineup and threw my can of peaches onto the front seats next to my empty can of dogfood. Dinner wasn't what it use to be. The flare goes out and night hides the little girl tied to the tree. I make my way in through the void for what seemed to be about two foot ball fields. Cars were still lined up one after the other, and bodies were everywhere. The odor cannot keep a secret in the dark. Nothing was able to be salvaged from this chaos. No other zombies remained walking about. Which would mean they were disposed of by other refugees. This path led to Hope, so maybe a militia took care of the threat not too long ago and haven't gotten to clearing the road yet. The militia would gather supplies and nothing would be left behind. I put my lighter to the corpses remains and inspect the heads. Twenty, twenty five, thirty, thirty five. Fifty four shots to the head was the last count. Definitely a clean sweep....so far. Looks like a scout group came through. The light of the night sky breaks away from the shrouds and shows me what looks to be an endless convoy of abandoned vehicles. I walk for what seemed thirty minutes. Nothing. Walk for another thirty. Nothing. But still cars cover the dirt road. Gaps in the skulls of the dead along the way confirm the routine perimeter scout check I suspected. With the light of the moon I search vehicle after vehicle and find nothing. The bodies left meant either laziness or this was more recent that i thought. More walking, but can now see in the distance, an orange glow through the trees and past the convoy.
I cant say I was in shock or at the least amazed that the inferno ablaze were buildings of the last known refuge, Hope. It was like the cities almost. Bodies were on fire, and left in the dirt scattered everywhere. Some even sitting in chairs. A massacre. How did it happen? Maybe fresh bitten refugees made it in one way or the other. Unrotted flesh can move as if alive and faster than the more decayed. Certain physical conditions of the body can also make a difference. In "The Panic" that's how it started. It spread fast and silent until it was to late to react. Some cities, towns and other populated areas caught it in enough time to slow the spread...but fell one way or the other; Silent and deadly. The flames rage, still fresh. I take in the warmth. Descending from behind the fiery buildings they emerge and see seconds. I stare back and count at least forty. One nasty ass group of pinatas ready for the beating.....all of them fresh off the line. My weapon may not be enough so I grab a metal pole and think, shish-ka-bobs. They rush toward me. The only words that comes out of my mouth are, "Cheeky Bastards". Inferno surrounds us and the fact that Hope is lost doesn't dismay me. After all....Its just a damn village.