if i ever get around to living | open

SAVE ME FROM MYSELF.

The bridge that once connected the two cities had been blown when the infected overran the government. Slabs of concrete were nestled against the edge of the chasm. The muddy red colored beams that once held the structure were either cracked or had sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Jasper watched the waves rise and fall, reflecting the blue and purple swirls of clouds. The sun poked its head up from behind the horizon and the shadows were beginning to creep back to their nooks. Jasper imagined that it would have been quiet, had it been before the virus fiasco. The occasional car maybe and a handful of boats, but otherwise, it would have been quiet.

All around him was noise. A car alarm going off in the distance. Screams of people that were being eaten alive. Moans of the infected. Car brakes screeching. Jasper couldn’t get the sounds out of his head, no matter how tranquil the scene was supposed to be. His legs dangled off the broken bridge, his hands folded neatly on his lap. The clouds were beginning to thin and stretch, spotting the sky with golden light. He glanced over at the wreckage. There military’s walls were still in place along with their abandoned police vehicles. Small huts that were used to hide people were hunkered together; carved hollow.

When the Berlin wall came down everybody cheered, he thought. But when the Golden Gate Bridge came tumbling down everybody wept. It was odd how history worked. Writers like him had always pondered about zombies and dystopian futures. They had written it down in their books or pitched their plays to movie companies. It wasn’t all that long ago when World War Z hit theaters. Did they ever imagine that the world would someday become a national best seller? And who was he in the middle of this novel? The hero? The villain? The interesting side character that got at least an episode of backstory before being shoved back into the corners? Jasper took a breath and turned his attention back onto the sky.

The clouds were ripping apart, the sun teetering against the horizon. Jasper had grown thinner since it happened. His clothes sagged off him, his face was pale and gaunt, but he couldn’t muster up the energy to scour for food. The man was content to sit and brood while everything around him was in constant movement—the infected, those that were trying to survive, the people in grim’s row. Everyone else was in motion. Where did that put Jasper?

made by kiwii at btn & ote!