I wanted to save her. She had no one else, not in this desolate world and to her, I was nothing but a mere stranger, bumbling onto her by accident. She had been making noise with a drum stick against a metal bar, the sound echoing into the far reaches. By luck I found her before they did and we ran.
Three days it had been, since we first met. She did not tell me her name and I did not tell her mine. I knew how it felt, saying a thing that belongs in the past, so I did not force her. All I did was force her to stay alive.
I want her to live.
They found us on the fourth day. We were scavenging, picking up green pieces of paper with faces and numbers, yanking dead bodies in and out of entry ways. They always left well enough alone if they saw dead bodies blocking the doorways.
I had to take away her drum stick, to keep her from hitting it against a metal desk. If she made noise we would die and I wanted to live.
We were on the road again, no sign of them anywhere.
Finally, I got tired of calling her you all the time.
“Can I call you Grey?”
It was supposed to be after the worn out grey jacket hanging on her bones. Making her skin look grey.
Grey shrugged and said no words. Her eyes were already dead from the fog and ash. A walking corpse being dragged across the ground.
I still want to save Grey.
It was supposed to be a quick break, a quick bite, a quick sip. We were caught by surprise. Well, I was surprised, Grey was more or less the same.
I grabbed Grey by her hand and ran. We had to live. So close were we near a building where we could hide perfectly, but she gave out.
“Come on! We have to go!” Despite her size, I could not budge her from the ground. There was no color in her, nothing to keep her going. “Come on, Grey! I need to save you!” She did not give in.
They were going to be upon us, their eyes glutton for revenge.
I ran.
She was left behind.
She did not want to be saved.
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