Left Behind

Left for dead. That’s what they were. They all were. No one had expected them to survive – because hardly anyone had. When the first appearance of the virus came people felt the need the fight, felt like it was their duty to save humanity. There were safe houses set up, military checkpoints to pass through, and camaraderie left and right. For the first time in decades it people were looking past themselves and trying to help others. When the virus first appeared there was still hope. Hope that this could be defeated and life would be better for it.

That was a year ago.

Now it was every man for himself – because lets face it, you could go weeks on end without seeing a single soul – dead or alive. The virus had spread like wildfire. There was no military tactic strong enough to fight it off. There was no antidote that cured the need to feed. And there was no dulling the guilt and heartache you felt when you had to kill yet another person you once held dear. Once people started to realize there was no way out people started giving up. Camaraderie was out the window. The military stopped sending radio signals to report the closest safe houses. The news stopped giving updates about how far the virus had spread because no one wanted to hear that it had basically covered the globe in a matter of months.

The only hope now lied in rumors. In the small group, maybe six or seven people that you’d decided were worthy of your trust. Because very few survived alone. Your hope came from the small camp you’d pass by on your own journey that tells you of a lasting safe house just over the mountains or through the hottest desert. At first you and your group go searching for these places, but after three or four times of your hopes being destroyed by yet another camp in ruins you become more calloused. You start doubting the rumors. But then what else is there? You’re just nomads traveling just because you know if you stop you’ll lose hope completely.

In your darkest moments you begin to believe the ones who contracted the virus are the lucky ones. They no longer feel despair or fear. They simply feel hunger, which you already feel anyway. But then you run into a pack of them – slaughter them one by one and pray no one in your camp was injured in the process. And you realize they aren’t any better off than you. In fact, they’re just as lost, but without the brains to do anything about it. So you keep fighting. You keep going.

Because being left behind doesn’t mean there’s no hope in catching up.