The blue SUV that had sped by had woken up more than a few of the dead, leading them on a slow, but determined chase. Ryan watched them all, shuffling, rotting, half-frozen, as they all marched after a thing they couldn't hope to catch. He couldn't catch it, either, but he did have an idea where they were going. The least he could do was take a trip out of his way to warn the little community about their impending visitors, and possible doom. The harbinger of doom thing was not how he liked to be, but he figured the more people in this world, the better. Hidden in the woods, just off the road he began his trek, working his long legs through the slushy snow and mud. Though his frame was thin, he did have an exceptional coat, thanks to that sporting goods store in the town over, and some very nice boots and galoshes. What he didn't have was food. He was afraid that his stomach might actually tip off the dead.
Ryan'd been traveling for days, trying to find a place to hide out or sleep in, but nothing was available. Each place was soaked with dead or had some very inhospitable people living there. Almost every time he'd encountered them, either the living or the dead, he'd chosen the non-violent route. He was taller, thinner, faster, than most individuals still living, so it was to his advantage. He paused for a moment, letting the ghost of a memory scream across his thoughts. Ryan shook his head, his long hair swaying back and forth in front of his light brown eyes, some strands sticking in his ever growing beard. 'No. That wasn't his fault. He didn't do it on purpose. Circumstances are what they are, and they.....' A gust of ice wind carrying crystals that stung his face broke the thoughts. It was an easy decision to keep walking for a while in complete silence, physically, and mentally.
The rhythmic crunch, crunch, crunch, of boots on snow was comforting to Ryan, the moans of the dead interrupting the steady sounds every now and again. Although they were easy to ignore, each new one gave the snow trekking man chills, especially the children. Again his mind tried to go to a darker place, but he fought against it, changing his course deeper into the woods, but keeping the direction the same. This was more dangerous, but the moans were a lot quieter, and allowed him to think without having to think about what happened. The moaning picked up for a second, one moan, more specifically, rose above the rest. It was a single dead, shambling through the woods, turned towards the settlement before Ryan's crunching caught his attention. He seemed to be freshly turned, a young black man with a bow across his chest, and one hand. The dead bared his teeth and moaned, turning fully towards Ryan, reaching out with a hand and a stump.
He had to be quick, those moans attract other dead. The long-neck hammer came free of it's leather harness on his hip, ready for the kill. Crunch, crunch, crunch, his steps went as he closed the gap between him and the dead. Ryan's long arm arched from above his head, coming down on the dead's skull. The sound was dull, but it reminded Ryan of when he used to bite into an apple, wet with a snap. The dead went down with no further incident, and the victor began to collect his winnings. Out of all the weapons and useful things he got Ryan was the most excited for the food. So excited he climbed a nearby tree and slowly ate a half frozen can of peaches. He didn't believe he'd ever eaten something so delicious in his entire life. After making sure the entire can was empty he picked up his trek again.
Dusk loomed on the horizon like a threatening shadow, ready to swoop down and take away the light, and leave the world in darkness and turmoil. Ryan's weary legs had lead him back to his original course, closer to the road, his stomach finally stopped grumbling and groaning from hunger. Soon he'd have to stop and find a tree to sleep in, but he'd continue just a little longer. Ryan used to love the night, used to love the sunset, especially when it turned red, the same dark red as her hair. Those thoughts of what he'd done finally caught up with him, finally found him weak enough. All at once, though, the dead stopped their march. Collectively they turned around, facing the opposite way of the settlement. Ryan's blood ran cold.
The roar of three engines began as a soft purr in the distance, but grew to ear splitting levels as they approached closer. Whooping, yelling, heavy metal music, all made the air thick and violent. Ryan hid behind a nearby tree as the three monster trucks with giant tires began to clear through all the dead on the road, the ones that weren't caught under the tires were bashed with long lead pipes. The man hiding behind the tree was still, eyes wide and staring, and utterly terrified. The one man driving the lead truck leaned out the window and pointed towards that settlement a day out and shouted "Fresh meat, boys!" Again the engines roared and they rolled forward.
Ryan couldn't control his legs, his thoughts, his panic, he started running. The rumors of marauders were true. Cannibals seeking easy prey. As he raced to try and save them her image came back, the last one he had of her when she was still alive. His sweet Bea, his only daughter, bitten, but never turned. He made sure she never wandered the earth like that. He saw her matted hair, even redder with blood soaking through it, her pale skin, her lifeless eyes, her smile that she wore all the way until he buried her along side her mother, her sister, and her brother. Ryan wasn't a religious man, but he prayed, now. "Please, God, please let me save them! Let me save one! Just one, please!" His breath, in the forms of clouds, carried his pleas upward and onward.
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