It’s getting dark, which means I need to find shelter for the night quickly. I should have begun scouting out a place to stay for the night hours ago, but I wanted to bring myself as close to the Hub as possible before stopping for the night.

I walk past a sign that in faded letters says “West Point Plaza,” along with a bunch of smaller signs under it announcing to anyone who reads it the stores that used to be here.

The sun is dipping low in the horizon, casting long, blueish shadows over the parking lot. There’s a handful of abandoned cars parked haphazardly, if the stores turn out to be a bust, I could possibly sleep in one. I’d probably have to cut up the seats to use the upholstery to cover the windows though.

I make my way over to the furniture store, which is the only one with all its windows still miraculously intact. I guess the end of a civilized world means a much lower demand for furniture.

As I pass a blue car, no clue what the model is, I hear a gurgling sound. It’s a voice, and it sounds sad and pitiful. I spare a few precious seconds to look for the source and see a zombie, trapped under the right front tire. It must have been there a long while, since the usual gore that comes with being run over is mostly gone, likely washed away by the heavy summer storms that happened earlier this season.

Its eyes were mostly gone, rotted right out of the ghastly thing's head. What was left of its hair was short and wispy, most of it was gone as well, along with a good portion of its scalp.

Its only free arm was reaching out for me, the remaining flesh pitted and oozing. It reeked.

“Help. Hungry. Help,” it gurgles at me as I pull my shirt over my nose. I can barely make its words out, its vocal cords must be nearly gone. I shake my head before turning on my heel to continue making my way to the furniture store.

It begins pleading with me, its struggled out words sounding eerily like sobs. I pick up my pace.

The pleas fade away as I reach the furniture store. The store's hours are posted on the door, and while I don’t know the exact time, it isn’t a stretch of the imagination to think that it is absolutely closed right now. But when I go to push it open, it opens with ease, though a soft jingle of bells causes me to cringe and look around. Nothing comes after me, and I don’t hear any half formed voices or stumbling footfalls.

I remove the bells from the door and carefully leave them on the ground outside before stepping inside. I then slowly close the door and pull my hunting knife from my pocket, silently pulling it from its leather sheath. I stow the sheath and begin slowly making my way deeper into the store. There’s a lot of couches in the center of the large, open room. Towards the back there’s assembled beds complete with mattresses on display, and on the left side of the store there’s vanities and shelves. On my right, there are dozens of displays of what appear to be dining room tables, surrounded by chairs and benches, with large bowls filled with fake fruits on top.

It all seems relatively untouched, there’s a fine layer of dust coating everything, and all is quiet. But the unlocked door is making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. There is no way people were so trusting before the world went to shit that they just left their stores unlocked. It wasn’t possible.

I tighten my grip on the handle of my hunting knife and hold my arm out in front of me. It’s my default stance, it gives me the best chance of shoving things away before I start stabbing. Having distance always gives you a better chance of survival.

I walk up and down the narrow walkways between displays, but I see nothing. I’m also quickly running out of light to see by, and I don’t want to use my flashlight since the windows aren’t boarded up. I make my way towards the back of the store, all stores have a place that customers weren’t allowed in, these places make excellent hiding spots.

I see a sign saying “Employees Only,” hanging above a door and make my way to it. Although I stop when I see that a large, heavy looking wooden desk was pulled in front of it, blocking it off. It had to have been done from the outside. As I turn to walk away, I hear soft thumping against the door and hear something pawing at the doorknob. It’s deafeningly loud in the padded silence of the abandoned furniture store. 

“Stayyy?” I hear a drawling voice ask. “Stayyy seee?” It asks. I don’t answer. “Stayyy seee?”

Stay see? Oh. It's calling for someone, their name must have been Stacy.

“No, no Stacy,” I answer it, almost immediately regretting my words. “Just a Maveth.”

“Noo stayyy seee?”

“No Stacy.”

It falls silent after that, and the thumping and pawing at the doorknob stops entirely. It must be one of the ones that have goals, and with the heavy desk in front of the door, I’d be safe from it for the night.

Speaking of night, it’s practically night as is. I rush back over to the front door, glancing outside for a moment before putting my knife away. Then I grab the closest couch that looks heavy enough to block the door and drag it over. I hate the scraping sounds it makes, but it’s over quickly enough. I quickly step back into the shadows and wait to see if anything begins thumping on the glass. But nothing comes and I let out a nearly silent sigh.

It’s time to pick out where I’m sleeping. I make my way through the couches, weaving in between armchairs and side tables. While there are beds available, I’d feel too vulnerable in them, they were too close to the back of the store and in full view if someone looked through the front windows. But a couch? I could easily lay on one and be hidden by the backrest, and I’d have plenty of space to use as cover in case anything comes at me.

I pick out a soft looking one, with fur covered pillows on it. There’s dust on it, but I’ve slept in much filthier places. I carefully set down my pack on the floor before sitting down on the couch. I’ve chosen wisely as it turns out to be very comfortable. It’ll be a nice break from sleeping on the ground in a worn sleeping bag, that’s for sure.

I pull the aforementioned sleeping bag from my pack and unroll it to use as a blanket. The nights were steadily getting chillier and catching a cold could prove fatal while traveling alone. A lot of things could.

Once I have my sleeping bag over my lap like a blanket, I pull a can and a fork from my pack. I haven’t stopped to eat many times during the day, so nightfall is for eating.

I’m not sure what is in the can, the label was torn off at some point. But food in cans never seems to go bad as long as the dents aren’t too deep or near the opening. This one has a tab that I can pull to remove the lid, so I don’t need to bother with my can opener.

I remove the lid and give the can a sniff, it’s too dark to see much of anything now. It’s green beans, which aren’t very good cold. But I can’t start a fire in here, so I just spear a few with my fork and get on with eating the soggy vegetables. I’m hungry enough that the can is quickly left with only the liquid that all canned produce seem to have leftover. I silently debate with myself for a few seconds before tipping the can back and knocking back the green bean juice. It’s gross, but it’ll help fill my stomach so I have very little room to complain. I put my fork back inside my pack and gently set the can and its lid on the carpeted floor.

It’s time to sleep. I hate this time, but it is necessary. I need energy to keep going, and if I don’t keep going, I’ll never get to Paradise. I briefly debate removing my boots, but remembering the zombie in the backroom, I decide against it. If I do end up needing to run, I’d rather have my boots on my feet while doing it. 

I get myself settled on my back, resting my head on the fluffy pillow. It’s divine, laying on something warm and comfortable with a relatively full belly. Dust and zombie roommate be damned.

As I slowly relax, I go over my plan for tomorrow in my mind. Get to the Hub, trade the batteries and odds and ends I’ve been collecting while traveling for supplies. I’d spend the night in the Hub before making the final stretch of my journey to Paradise.

Paradise is a settlement, it’s the largest known settlement this side of the mountains. It’s so big, it has actual towns in it, a school, even a real, functioning hospital. It’s like the world before the zombies, safe and with a proper community. It’s quite literally paradise. Just like its name. It’s the perfect home, and I’ve been slowly but surely making my way to it for the past three years.

At first I traveled with my parents, but I’d have to make this last stretch by myself. I am old enough to make it on my own at roughly nineteen, give or take a few months. Time can slip past you really easily if you don’t pay very careful attention to it.

I’ve been traveling alone for exactly two hundred and forty-three days. I’m not sure what month or day of it today is, but I’m sure someone at the Hub will be able to tell me.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been to the Hub, a year at least. I hope not much has changed, I need this to be as straightforward as possible.