text: After months of lock-down, the virus-ravaged earth has finally re-opened and the people attempted to go back to normal. Unfortunately, the prolonged absence of human interaction has turned humans into maniacs. Those who have been going outside at least occasionally managed to escape these effects, but they did not escape the manic attacks of the rest of the zombies. For one hundred days people were slaughtering each other on the streets until no one was left except for one miserable soul: myself. I have no idea how I managed to escape but somehow, I did and was not harmed, at least physically, emotionally I have been scarred without any hope of future repair. So, although my survival might seem like a great achievement, I am beyond feeling victorious. Frankly, being the only human around is not that great. Perhaps it’s my karmic punishment for something terrible I have done in my past life because there is something entirely sinister about being the only person alive on earth while retaining all the memories of a past life that no longer exists with every single one of my loved ones being gone forever and all at once. My mom died of the virus and my sister was brutally beaten to death by some people outside. I was not even able to help her because I was out trying to make some shopping. I could handle my mom’s death, this was before the reopening, but my sister’s death was the greatest shock. I was in bed for one week only getting up for light snacks and the bowl necessities. After a week, I took another two to recover and then made a run for it to the forest, to a place I discovered long ago. I did not even bother looking for my best friend Jay or the only love of my life, my ex girlfriend Rita. We broke up when the virus started because of her pneumonic mom who was obviously paranoid for her daughter’s health. I proposed to run away together but she chose her sick mother over me, which is understandable, and somehow I don’t judge her and on the contrary I admire this kind of strong feeling for one’s mother. I probably would have done the same in her place. Of course, I was heartbroken over realizing that I will probably never see her again but she made her choice and who was I to demand anything from a person, even a girlfriend, to sacrifice what she held most dear? This is how, one very foggy Thursday I made a decision to get off the grid- so the forest. My forest days were pretty glum and mostly uneventful. I already had a hiding place in mind, the abandoned little cave which Rita and I found long ago on one of our adventures. It was terribly hard to not think of her as I was on my way there, especially because I took the longer and safer route in order to avoid zombie contact. It took me about five days instead of the normal three hours, and not, reader, I did not get lost. I have been a forest maniac since childhood and knew this place in and out. Perhaps maniac is not the best word, considering the whole zombie apocalypse. On the first night in the cave I had a terrible nightmare. Rita and I were in our wedding clothes and were running through this same forest as the zombies were chasing us and spitting dragon-like fire which was leaving a blazing trail. Rita fell and was consumed by the fire and the zombies trampled all over her as though she was dirt and not a bride-to be. Then Rita transformed into a monster which had the body of a wolf and the head of a dragon. Her piercing dark green eyes stared at me as she flew towards me. I felt her breath on my face and was burning alive. Trying to catch a last breath, I woke up screaming in pain. My screaming must have resonated because I heard voices that were getting closer. There was secret narrow passage in the depths of the cave which was my only hope. I managed to make it there before the zombies reached the cave. Luckily, the passage was not discovered, and I was safe for the moment. The next couple of weeks I spent making my way as deep into the forest as possible. I slept for two-three hours a day. Not the best for health, but at least I had no more nightmares and was able to focus on moving forward and escaping the nightmare that turned into a reality. Reader, your next question is quite logical, and I sense it coming. Yes, I did eat, and no I did not starve. I planned this escape of course and had enough supplies to last me a few months. My ration was basically a mixture of different sorts of canned meat and occasionally some berries which I found on the way. Oh yes, how long was I in there? About three months, give or take. Time became a thing of the past, and does it really matter? It’s not like my story will be all over the news or I would somehow become the infamous zombie apocalypse survivor- as the saying goes, “if a tree falls in an empty forest is it still heard if no one is there to hear it?” When I came out of my hiding spot out in the woods, I walked into a town on the other end filled with dead corpses scattered all over and open stores filled with plenty of now useless things. Well, perhaps not so useless as I put them to good use- especially the food! After months of being in hideout, I was finally able to get proper nourishment and even get new clothes- all for no cash. I am saying no cash and not free because the price is priceless- the price of these necessities has been paid in blood by the ex inhabitants of this world. What a tragedy, but one that makes no difference to a hungry soul who just wanted to eat normal food after months of surviving on the human processed meat of dead animals. I walked around and found some empty apartments. I chose the most luxurious penthouse in the middle of downtown- in normal times it would cost me my two month’s paycheques but now it was there up for grabs for the only human around. Rent has never been cheaper! Of course, I would rather it cost money but have everything back to normal, but I decided not to think about it and just take advantage of the moment. There was no point in mourning and my emotions have long ago died and been buried in the deepest corners of my soul with no proper funeral and no one reading a eulogy as last remembrance. The apartment was very bright and cozy. It belonged to a rich family with a very pretty young girl about five years younger than me based on the giant family portrait on the wall in the living room. I made a decision to not go through their things to find out what they were like, so to not awaken the dead emotions and risk any more soul wreckage. The luxury was nice: the apartment was very spacious with lots of natural sunlight. It had multiple bedrooms. I chose the master bedroom. The sheets were made of very expensive silk and felt nice on my body as I finally was able to lay on something other than first for the first time in what seemed like centuries. I fell asleep and beat my own personal record: twenty hours. I dreamed I was floating in the sky on a fluffy cloud. The sky was a baby soft pastel blue with streaks of soft pink and red from the sun. I looked down and realized I was on a cloud-train and beneath me were cloud-made tracks that seemed to be never ending. I was floating and singing children’s nursery rhymes. Suddenly the train reached a stop and I saw my mom. She looked much younger and was wearing my favourite dress of hers from childhood- a long hippy dress the colour of freshly cut grass and streaks of purple and pink. She did not say anything: just looked at me and smiled. I began to cry, which as I found out was not the right thing to do. As my tears fell down, they erased the pretty scene and from the beautiful baby blue pastel sky with a train track it turned into a dark forest. Then zombies started getting into the scene as though going through an invisible curtain. Suddenly I was back in the forest with human zombies spitting fire and Rita- dragon which fast approached me. I ran and ran and fell into a giant cave which spiraled downward. Dirt was falling on me- I was being buried alive. I jumped out of bed but was not able to produce any noise, just my mouth was wide open and my body hot as fire. Suddenly I felt numb and fell to the ground. My brain decided it could not handle this and declared a state of emergency by shutting down. Dear reader, this was terrifying, but remember this was just a dream. The reality was much scarier- that should scare you much more. I spent the next couple of months like a free wind, or a gypsy, or a bird, whatever metaphor you think best fits, going through one shelter to the next. I must have seen thousands of rotting bodies that the sight became a thing of normality. I had to keep moving in order to keep myself at least a little bit sane, although I am convinced my sanity died long ago after seeing chopped off parts of the body of ex humans of all sizes on the dead silent streets of this new world. Did you like that metaphor, “dead silent?” I find it absurd too, but humor is really one of the ways to deal with trauma. On one especially sunny day I walked into yet another town. It must have been hundreds of kilometres away from my distant and long forgotten hometown. I was getting exhausted and was starting to have thoughts of joining the rest of the humans in their after-life party. They were probably eagerly waiting for my arrival. I wondered if they would be disappointed with me for being about a year or so late. There is a record for lateness! As these creepy thoughts were overtaking my mind I did not see where I was heading as my eyes were clearly set inwards into all this suicidal paradise. Suddenly, my walking was rudely interrupted by a very strange object. It took about five seconds for my eyes to come back to reality and notice that I just bumped into a giant piece of metal. I took a quick tour to find out what it was. What do you think it is? Should we play guess what? I haven’t played that in so long. Oh, maybe we can play twenty questions: is it big? Is it man-made? Lack of human interaction is not so fun after all, no one to play guessing games with boohoo. Anyways, you did not guess correctly and lost. The giant metal is a freaking fighter jet. That’s right! I must have walked into a town with an army base. Reader, I was a pilot in the past world, did you think it was one of those Hollywood movies where the character magically learns how to fly a plane? Like the man in my favourite childhood story “The Little Prince”, I took off with this plane and went on a trip around the world. The difference is that the world really was as lonely now as in the book. I wondered if I would meet my “little prince” with his golden hair and pet sheep. As I was flying, I tried my hardest to recall the plot of that book and imagine myself in this story. I was so deep into my own fantasy, I completely lost track of time as I was flying from one zombie-ravaged-land to the next. I liked my rose-coloured glasses on this post-post world trip. I made some stops in some iconic long-forgotten places which I always wanted to see but never had the chance to when the world was still alive. I don’t want to go through them here, let’s just say I was acting almost like a typical tourist, minus overspending on shelter, transportation, nourishment, remembrance object; yes, I guess I was not so typical of a tourist after all- just me and my plane. But reader, remember that being out of touch with reality does not end well- and so on one especially hot morning as I was passing over what looked like a very familiar place, my plane ran out of food and crashed. It was quite a sight to see- I wish you were there to witness this magnificent landing! The landing the was not the most crashy, but it did shatter my pink-rose glasses. I looked around and saw a familiar monument. As I walked around some more it finally hit me- I was back at square zero- the place I once called home in some distant past that now seemed like it never existed. The cycle was complete- what is next? Of course this is a big big foreshadowing clue to you reader that this tale is nearly coming to its end, just hold tight. Fixing my plane proved to be a very useless task. After a couple or dozen of time I gave up any hope completely. As I was about to abandon this world for good and finally come to the after-life party, my mind painted a familiar talking creature which was making an attempt at communicating to me in a tongue I have not used since forever. “Are you a dream?” said hallucination “No, I am not a dream, are you?” Reader, how do you think it ends? My fate is in your hands!