The Gas Station

And now we're here. Somehow made it to a high school in the midwest. It's fairly large, that can be good and bad. More space where we're safe, more space to defend. There are so many windows here, maybe we should cover them with...I don't know, something. It looks like the last people who were here tried to cover a few windows with the tops of desks, which didn't seem to work very well. Huh. Maybe we could use some bulletin boards, if only they weren't all so thoroughly sealed to the walls...

Anyway, it's just three of us right now. Me, Emily, and Rachel. There were more, there might still be. We got separated a few weeks ago, in some gas station, just looking to grab a bite to eat...Food isn't that hard to find, though the selection is getting scarcer. Our supply was dwindling, we had to go somewhere.

So we chose a gas station. It was deserted, and it'd been that way for a while. Its glass-plated doors were mildew-y at the edges, its bricks beginning to crumble. Above the entrance, its large (and no longer legible) sign seemed to stare down upon us, daring us to go inside. Seth said it was probably empty. Emily said we should check anyway. And we did, and it was empty, but not entirely so. There were packages strewn across the blood-stained floor, a previous attack evident. And in some of those packages were sweets, or salty snacks, or chewing gum to keep the mind off hunger. And we split up to look around, the biggest, most cliché mistake we could have made at the time.

Thomas and I were in the back, searching through their not-so-expansive selection of drinks. There were a few bottles of Gatorade left, and Thomas was going to get a basket to grab them...And then, there was glass shattering, screams piercing the air, sounds of dead, sounds of dying, and I didn't know what to do. I grabbed a couple bottles of Gatorade, my trusty hammer, and ran. I knew it was wrong of me, but I ran away from the attack. Ran to the corner, and spotted a small window above the shelves. I quickly pulled myself up a shelf containing several bags of Bugles, no doubt stale. When I reached the window, I smashed it, and pulled myself out, and jumped to the ground below. Rachel and Emily had been using the bathrooms, so I ran to the door, ripped it open, and told them to run. They obeyed, and we spent a good half hour getting away.

I miss them, the ones who didn't make it. That's a lie. They might've made it. No they didn't. Yes. No. I just don't know, I want them to have made it, but even if they did, I doubt I'll see them again.

So, this is dedicated to you guys, Thomas, Seth, Jared, Ruthie, Chad. All you guys. Please be alive, please be safe...