The Survivors

Hey, this is the first draft of something I wrote last night. I'd really like to get some feed back from all of you guys and hear some suggestions of how to improve this and future sections.

Thanks Everybody!

Section 1: One Year Later

The creature walked down the street. Unlike others afflicted with its hunger, those of his kind seemed in a perpetual state of hunting. The others seemed as though to stumble across their meals. Before his illness, he had been a man of thirty and a fitness nut of sorts. He still wore the jogging suit that he had worn when he ran into the creature that had bitten into his shoulder. However now, he seemed fatigued and his face and neck were covered in cuts and scratches, his mouth covered in the remains of his last meal. His face seemed almost silent in the cold suburban day. It was close to dusk and the creature was seeking anything it could eat. There was a crack from one of the houses behind him and his head whipped around. He looked puzzled at first, but his face quickly twisted into a fierce, animalistic look with his brownish teeth bared. With the spring of his foot, the creature streaked across the lawns in search of the source of the noise. It ran between the houses, frantically searching. Eric Baker’s eyes could be seen between two boards in a window frame. The runner couldn’t see this because Eric’s eyes were level with his shoulders. The creature slowed down and moved toward the street.

Through the boarded up window Eric sat peering through a small crack at the movement outside. Shambling feet carried the most recent threat down the street, away from his spot. A sigh of relief escaped his haggard face. His eyes rolled to the left and looked at Jeff Maxwell sitting next to him. Jeff and Eric had been friends for quite some time before the world ended. Jeff had a rifle in his hands, ready to snap into firing position at the blink of an eye. Jeff was roughly Eric's height, but had a smaller build and was thinner than him. His hair was shaggy, but still shorter and neater than his companions. He wore a flannel shirt covered by a flight jacket and a pair of jeans over his tennis shoes. Eric was of a sturdier build and outweighed his friend by about 40 pounds. His hair had grown to ear length and he had a few days growth of whiskers on his face. Eric was wearing a zip up hooded sweatshirt and a pair of cargo pants over his sneakers. Jeff smiled and whispered to Eric, "Close one, huh?" Eric didn't smile but patted Jeff on the shoulder, got up and walked down the hall toward the garage.

Carl Burnett lay on a bench in the dark garage smoking a cigarette. He was noticeably older than Eric, probably about 15 years his senior. When the open door spilled light into the room, Carl glanced up as Eric entered. His crew cut had grown out and he hadn't bothered to shave in quite some time. His beard was much fuller than Eric's. He wore a fleece shirt and his regulation camouflage pants. However he had traded his boots in for a pair of running shoes. He sat up and moved towards him as he entered, picking up his cigarette pack from the hood of a military humvee as he drew close. Lifting it in his direction, Eric pulled one out of the pack and lit it on Carl's awaiting lighter. He pulled his head back and exhaled his first puff. He had quit smoking not too long before the end, but it seemed pointless to resist now. "Everything alright out there?" Carl whispered, jerking his head in the direction of where he and Jeff had been spying out the window crack. "Its fine, we're still unnoticed." He replied, taking another drag off of the cigarette. Carl nodded and headed back to his bench as Eric turned to leave.

He moved down a set of stairs and turned a corner into a living room of a finished basement. It was dark in the basement, as it was only being lit by a candle, but Eric moved comfortably through it, knowing where the pieces of furniture sat. He was even good enough at this trick to stop walking when he came across his brother Dennis' legs, which were stretched out on a coffee table. Dennis was 4 years older than Eric, but the two had always been close. Dennis was much taller than Eric and was a lot thinner than him as well. He was clean shaven but retained a long hair style, as he had before everything. He wore a pair of khaki pants and a dress shirt, but he too had learned the lesson of wearing sneakers. He was sitting on a couch, reading a Stephen King novel. Eric thought of the irony that at a time like this, his brother could sit and enjoy horror, especially when they were surrounded by the real thing everyday. He stared at his brother for several minutes until he pulled his legs out of the way, allowing Eric to pass. At this, Dennis received an insincere smile from his brother. Then again, most smiles seemed insincere these days.

Eric moved past his brother and away from his lit candle, handing off the half smoked cigarette, toward a bedroom across the basement. A flicker of light was inside, produced by a single candle in the center, along with Chris Collier sitting on the floor. The room was bare except for the mattress against the far wall. Chris was very thin; sitting shirtless, one could see his ribcage. His hair hung past his ears and into his eyes. He only wore a pair of sweatpants that had to be tied tight to stay up. The beard on his face was the work of a man who had given up only a few weeks earlier. An open bottle of whiskey sat next to him, about a quarter drained. It was one of the more expensive whiskeys that Eric had brought into the house. Chris was staring at the ground and made no acknowledgment of his long time best friend entering the room. Eric had been avoiding conversation with Chris for days at this point. He looked at him grimly and compassionately and sighed. "Need anything?" he asked, knowing the answer he would receive as the words passed his lips. The response was Chris grabbing the bottle from his side and taking another long drink of its contents. Eric continued to look at the shell of his friend, wishing he could ease his pain. Eric felt a taste of this pain when he saw the picture of Lara sitting on the floor in front of Chris. Not being able to stand the tension any longer, he turned and exited the room.

He slid into the adjacent room and reached for where he knew would be another candle. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and lit it. This had been his room for the past month. It appeared to have been a teenager's room before everything had happened. Eric had long thought of what had become of this kid and his family, but found that thinking of the possibilities wasn't a very pleasant course of thought. He had taken most of the kid's belongings and pushed them into the closet, which he hadn't opened since. Now the room was basically bare, besides a shotgun, pistol, and his trusty baseball bat; which lay on the floor by the mattress he slept on. Eric moved over to the bed and reached onto the floor for his water bottle which he opened and took a large drink of. He reached toward the nightstand by the bed and pulled a card into his hands. He looked at it almost as grimly as he had Chris. Eying it for several minutes, he tossed it to the side. It was visible for a second before he blew out his candle and lay on the bed. It was a name badge that read, "Eric Baker, Camp St. Teresa volunteer".

Next section: Camp St. Teresa- November 1st, 2007 (The First Chapter)