I wake up to a faint knocking on my door. “H?” I hear Bill’s quiet voice call out.

“Ugh I'm coming,” I say sleepily. I look in the mirror to see dry saliva on the side of my face and my hair looks like it needs a good brushing. I scrub my face but leave my hair a mess. My growling stomach has other plans.

I open the door to find Bill still waiting on the other side. “And what is it you need that you had to summon me from my slumber?” I ask, staring down at him. 

Now that I have a minute, I notice that Bill is such a small old man. Now that he's showered he's kind of adorable. I wish I could put him in my pocket and pet his head. Something about him seems different though.

“Why are your eyes purple?” I yell out as it occurs to me. They had definitely been blue before. The color wasn’t so different now but I couldn’t ignore it when my eyes were the same shade of purple too. 

“I don’t know. I was hoping you would tell me,” he answers softly.

I scoff. “How should I know?”

“Well, you have purple eyes. I don’t know. I thought maybe you...I’m not sure.” 

“I haven’t done anything except save your life. What? Are you accusing me of putting food coloring into your eyeballs at night?” I laugh. “You’re a treat, Bill.”

“Well, why do you have purple eyes?” he asks, not wavering from his purpose.

I frown. Never mind about the adorable comment. 

I have no idea what’s happening to you or me, I want to shout but I don't. Above all things I hate thinking someone could get the best of me. I’m H and the day you make me admit to being wrong or ignorant is the day I might as well just throw in the towel.  

“You woke me up to ask me that stupid question?” I sputter out. 

“People have different colored eyes. Get over it. As for your eyes? I haven’t got a clue. I’ve done nothing but save your ass from a horde of stinkers and considering how early it is right now and your bizarre line of questioning I’m starting to wonder why I bother to do nice things at all.”

He continues to stare at me and I make a move to brush my hair out of my face so I don't have to look at him anymore. That question shook me to my core. I didn't know why his eyes were suddenly purple. How the hell could I explain that if I didn't have the answers myself?

“Actually, I woke you up because I made breakfast and I thought we could go look for survivors or anyone we could help.” 

That didn’t seem like a bad idea and it was something that had been rolling around my mind since I figured the government wouldn’t be helping anyone not in a shelter by now, but I had other plans. I needed to find Mom and Justin. Maybe I could do both? 

I give him a menacing look for good measure and then walk out. “Food now. Talk later,” I say walking past him out of the bunker and towards the kitchen of my house. Someone had done some exploring. I stare at the plate of PB&J sandwiches. At least the old man had a good taste in food. 

I sit down and grab my sandwiches. “Number one, you’re not leaving here,” I say. 

“Number two, I’m going to go do whatever you said but I don’t need a sidekick. You stay here. I’ll leave you a knife but just stay here, okay? If anything happens, lock yourself in the bunker. I need to find my mom and brother and then I’ll come for you.” I can’t believe I just admitted that. 

Normally I don’t reveal anything of myself or my plans but there’s something about this old man that makes me feel like I can trust him and that I should reassure him.

He stares at me and shrugs. “That’s fine, I guess,” he says.

I finish my food and chug down my orange juice. “Okay then.” I get up and walk to my room.

I run through my daily exercise routine, keeping my body honed and on point. The routine helps me feel like myself and frees me from thoughts of purple eyes or feelings of crushing guilt. After that I finally manage to brush my hair and make it flawless like it always is. 

Then I look at my pile of clothes and weapons as I think about my plans. I really need to do something to get my head together. I get dressed and walk toward the house’s entrance. Before I leave I teach Bill how to open the door to the bunker and make him show me at least three times before I’m satisfied. 

“Bye, Bill. See ya later,” I say while looking out the peephole, gun in hand.

“Bye, H. Be safe,” I hear faintly.

“Yeah yeah yeah,” I mutter under my breath. I open the door quietly and walk out. I get to the M3 and manage to hot-wire it again. I seriously needed a new ride with keys. If a stinker was chasing me, taking time to hot-wire wouldn’t cut it. 

I sit in the driver’s seat for a good five minutes just staring into nothing before I realize that I haven't listened to any music in what feels like forever. I turn on the radio and, of course, static comes on. Talk about radio silence.

I click on the audio button and notice the previous owner had a CD in. I press play and guess what song comes on. Come on, guess it. “Three Little Birds” by Bob Marley. God damn it was I in I am Legend? All I needed was a dog. Come to think of it, I realize there are no pets wandering the streets either. I saw some in the footage with their owners but I’m still a little worried about any animals that might be left out there. 

I put the car in reverse and realize I'm not quite ready to face Mom and Justin. I doubt I'll find them right away but there's a chance I do, and I can't do that just yet. Yesterday was too hard. If they're alive then I can't face them and if they’re zombies then I don't want to have to face that either.

I need to calm my mind. An idea sparks and I smile.

I'm going shopping.

For one thing it's a girl’s instinct and for another, everything’s basically free. I speed down the roads till I see a small comic book store. “Jackpot!” I say as I pull into a parking space.

I take out my gun and open the door. A little bell rings as I slip inside. If there were stinkers I wanted to see them before they saw me. The damn bell kind of made that hard, though.

When nothing comes running at me, I figure I'm okay. Plus, the place smells decent so there’s a good chance it’s stinker free. There are blood and gunk stains on some parts of the floor, but I do my best to avoid them.

I walk in and grab a couple comics. I just love these things. Then I notice a katana scabbard right there, right behind the register. It has a carrying strap and everything. 

“Oh yes,” I say, making little grabby hands. 

I jump over the counter and slide it out of its scabbard to examine the blade. It worries me that it's still here. Either I'm really lucky or there were less humans alive than I figured because this should have been pilfered by now. 

I hope I’m just lucky. I run my fingers down the shiny steel and realize I really want it. Mom would never let me buy one of these. She thinks I’d probably decapitate Justin, which is true.

I sigh at the thought and swing the strap over one shoulder and let it hang around on my back. It’s heavy and kind of impractical if I need to grab the thing quickly for a fight but it’ll do. 

I grab the comics on the counter and leave. As I’m exiting the small store I see my reflection. “Damn girl, you look good,” I say, winking at myself. This kick ass, take katanas and comic books life was really working for me.

I get in the car, take the time to re-hot wire and hear the Bob Marley CD for the millionth time. Okay, I loved him but I needed something new. I’m about ready to choke myself. There was literally one beat in the entire song.

I pull out from the parking space and head onto the main road. I quickly get to the mall that’s about 5 minutes from my house and pull up to my favorite bookstore. I get out of the M3 and basically run to the entrance as usual with my gun in hand. I also realize I need to get some more and should stop by the Bass Pro Shop or a weapons store to see what I can scrounge up. 

I open the doors to the wonderful wonderland of books. Even with this shitty stinker invasion on the outside, everything in this place is still amazing.

I walk in slowly to make sure the area is clear. To my right, two stinks stand around. I immediately assess that they are the dumb kind though, so I know they aren’t going to be a bother. I walk through the Teen Fantasy and Adventure aisle to find a couple of books and I stick them in my bag.

I keep strolling around, enjoying the smell of the books and from the corner of my eye I see a young guy with his head down, pacing the store. He looks awful and his clothes are pretty torn up but I’m not judging. I’m just happy to find someone around my age to talk to.

“Hello?” I call out, keeping my distance and analyzing him. I slowly get close enough to see his torn clothes are also splattered with blood.

 He looks up sharply and his piercing white eyes are on me. I open my mouth to say something but can't gather the words. I turn to run only to realize I'm too late.

I thump to the ground with his weight on me and try to keep him from snapping my face off. I try to push him off but for some reason he seems much heavier than he looks. I manage to scramble back and on a nearly forgotten reflex, pull out the trench knife in my boot.

“I don’t want to do this again,” I cry out with a saddened tone as I get to my feet. This is so totally my fault. I should’ve just grabbed my books and CDs and gone on my way. 

He charges at me causing me to lose balance but I quickly regain it and snap into battle mode. I take a swing at him and miss since he’s much faster on his feet. Why stinkers have this ability I don’t know. It makes me feel like I don’t have a chance and maybe it’s time for me to give up. Then again, if I gave up I wouldn’t be H, would I? 

I groan and swing the knife, dodging his advances. Then I manage to plunge the knife into his leg. He drops to one knee and growls. “I’m sorry, you sort of deserved it,” I say and somehow he gets up, his eyes even more calculating as he pulls the trench knife out of his leg. He drops it on the ground and charges at me like the injury didn't happen. He viciously grabs at me, managing to wrench my arm badly. I groan, freeing my arm from his grasp. Then relying on the instincts that have been ingrained in my mind, I ignore the pain and pull my gun from my belt as I'm dodging his advances.

I take a shot and miss. 

Damn it, I did it on purpose. I don't want to shoot him. Yet that won’t stop him from attempting to kill me, nothing will now. I steady myself and as my mind goes blank I stare back into his white eyes, matching his cold determination. I hold my finger on the trigger calculating the right moment to end this.

He pulls himself up and runs right towards my gun. I manage to get the shot I’ve been waiting for. Then as if in slow motion, I watch his body fall to the ground.

I put my gun down and look at his lifeless body, unable to rationalize what’s going on. Part of me knows if I left him alive, he would attack someone else. He was a monster. I couldn't save him but I could save the next person that walks in and can't protect themselves the way I can from becoming one too.

As much as I'm trying to run away from my mind and not be this killer I was trained to be, this is a game of survival. I just can’t believe I hesitated at all. I’m still not emotional in any sense of the word, that was stripped from me long ago, but I’ve let the past two years of civilian life soften me up some.

I breathe in and realize I have to toughen up. There's no room for weakness anymore. This guy, whoever he was, didn't deserve this. None of the affected did but moping around won't help them or me. It will only get me killed faster and I have no intention of going down. I will find my mom and brother and I will get them back safe. 

 I walk quickly, making sure I haven’t forgotten anything and making sure there's nothing else creeping around and ready to pounce. I gather what I want and stick it all into my bag, especially all the CDs I came for in the first place. As I’m walking away I look behind me, telling myself I shouldn’t feel guilty for pulling the trigger. As I look at him I see a lanyard sticking out of the guy’s pants right next to my nearly forgotten trench knife.

Given the current state of affairs, potential car keys are too tempting to pass up. Quick as lightning I get close to him, avoiding the dark pool of goop coming from his rotting body. I hold my breath, hoping he doesn’t suddenly come back to life and end me. Then I pull the lanyard out. 

There are keys attached just like I suspected. I clench the lanyard in my hand, grab the trench knife and run to the exit so I can take a deep breath full of clean air. I walk outside to the parking lot trying to clear my mind and start clicking the emergency alarm button on the car. I follow the sound to a dark red Mustang GT sitting under a tree.

Jackpot.