the sound of waves crashing on the beach, the rustling of leaves in the trees, and the faint chatter on the radio, hardly in earshot. those were the first things we knew when we awoke on this island, and they quickly became the only familiarity
at first we were struck by curiosity, a sense of wonder; we felt good. the warm breeze in our hair, the sun on our skin. maybe this was the vacation we needed. after all life back home was- it was-
we couldn't remember life back home. was it stressful? did we work a 9-5? maybe we were aspiring artists? did we even have a life back home? a home even? did we have families, hopes, dreams, friends? were we friends? we didn't even know each other, we didn't even know ourselves. and yet somehow it felt like we had lived hundreds, maybe thousands of lifetimes together.
but that didn't matter, the sun was shining and we felt the need to relax. there were no dangers here, no worries. just us and the island. as night set we had managed to pull some junk off the beach and throw together a shelter for the night. we had found some firestarter too, but the warm southernly winds were enough to suffice. and so we layed and watched the moon rise heavenward, out of the ocean and into the silver specked sky, until sleep came for us all.
we dreamt that night. we dreamt of lifetimes that came before. in some of them we were courageous mountaineers, overcoming the tallest peaks, sometimes we were just buddies on a camping trip, pushing our rv through the mud and laughing when one of us fell face first. sometimes we were ghosthunters, sometimes ghost vloggers, sometimes even journalists. we had done everything, from running fast food joints to running drugs. we had run from unfathomable beasts, and sometimes we hunted the unfathomable beasts. we had survived. we survived plane wrecks, train wrecks, ship wrecks, and even a t-rex. we'd survived temperate and tropical forests. we had even survived space and travelled the interstellar plane. we had done everything and so much more. we had been across the universe together.
and now we were here.
was this our reward.
were we finally allowed to relax.
that's how it had started to seem, until more dreams came. at first we didn't realize. a dream of zombies. we'd dealt with the undead before. we'd taken down thousands of walkers, biters, the undead, whatever you call them, we'd survived it. but the dream became worse, it became something unfamiliar. what we could only describe as the end of the world. we'd dealt with hardships before, but this was unlike anything we had ever seen.
zombies overtook the island, thunder came from above as meteors crashed to the earth, drenching us in
hot soil. we could feel the heat from each impact on one side as frigid air pierced our flesh from the other. pelted by molten rock and frozen needles, the burn of fire and ice overwhelmed us. the sounds of the undead grew deafening and we were soon to be engulfed by the many. the sky grew dim. any hope we clung onto was crushed with our bodies. our flesh and bone were amalgamated into the conglomeration of corpses. everything went dark.
we all jumped up, heads jerking around wildly, our eyes searching frantically for any sign of danger. there was none. the wind still blew, the trees still rustled, the radio still chattered.
we had known it was dream, but we had all had the same feeling, a premonition that was soon to be actualized. or was this a prophecy. did the world, nay, the universe, want us to foresee the impending cataclysm, to give us a sliver of hope, a fighting chance. or maybe not. was the universe sadistic. it seemed so. did it just like to see us suffer, watch us struggle like flies caught in its web of agony, releasing a new beast upon us every time it got bored. and when we got close to our hollow victory, it would just toss another roadblock in our way. only letting us have a win every now and then to keep us from giving up.
and yet that seemed to be enough. that pyrrhic victory was enough for us. maybe it wasn't the victory we needed, maybe we didn't need the victory at all. maybe it was each other, maybe that's what kept us going time and time again. the one thing that stayed the same across every life. we had each other, we shared the good times and the bad, we shared stories and laughs, we shared the experience. and maybe, just maybe, that's what made it worth it.
we all knew this, this was another challenge to face, another experience to live. it wasn't anywhere close to being over yet, and that was fine by us.
we were ready. the air around us changed, it felt like the calm before the storm, yet there was no calm, the wind still blew, the trees still rustled, yet it just felt... different. we knew what was coming and we knew we had to prepare. we salvaged more junk from the beaches. working together to create a fortress of planks and palettes. we found so much junk; fans, toilets, pieces of sheet metal and even a door. we built skyward to avoid the undead, we built walls to protect us from the harsh wind. we built the strongest roof we could muster. we grabbed our radio and Firestarter, and we were ready.
the meteors came first. and we huddled together, hoping and praying that we would be okay. and we were. the zombies came from the ocean, like a wave breaching the shore that just kept going. but we were doing okay, these trials kept coming and going, and it was tough, it was close, but we were determined. we were being tested and we were more ready than ever. we were passing each test flawlessly. we were doing it, hardly even sweating.
but we were soon shown that there are no rules to how the universe plays it's games. it didn't like that we were winning, outplaying it. it didn't like how prepared we were. it was time for it to toss in the road block that we knew was coming, or so we thought. high upon our tower of junk we sat.
the wave of zombies grew higher and higher until we could only describe it as a mountain, an unease began to settle in our stomachs. gnawing away at our confidence. but sooner than we could make a plan, that unease was replaced by dread. the wave of zombies turning into a mountain was the least of our worries, because in the distance, through the haze on the horizon, was a different mountain.
a mountain? no. those weren't mountains. and as quickly as the wave below became a mountain, we realized that the mountain on the horizon was a wave. a wave taller than anything we had seen in this forsaken world.
we panicked. we began to search for a solution, it wouldn't be long before every bone in our body was shattered by the impact. we tore down our walls, we pulled up pieces of our floor, just to build a little higher, we used every piece that wasn't essential. it wasn't enough. we started pulling up supports. our tower becoming ever less stable as we built skyward. we were heavenbound one way or another.
and when we ran out of junk and the only thing left was the shirts on our back, we stood silently. the tower swayed. back and forth. back and forth. we were so high that the growling from below was drowned out by our heartbeats; until our hearts stood still.
they stilled when the rumbling came.
it began to overpower every other sound.
the strong winds, the creaking of nails and boards, the stuttered breathing escaping our lungs,
and then the ground began to shake.
nails gave up.
boards gave up.
even the zombies began to give up.
we didn't give up. we held onto each other.
we couldn't tell if we were high enough or not. and it was approaching quickly, we all held hands and closed our eyes. we would find out soon enough.
we felt water splash on our skin.
we felt water on our legs.
we felt water in our lungs.
we tried to open our eyes but the world stayed black.
then there was a sound.
the sound of waves crashing on the beach, the rustling of leaves in the trees, and the faint chatter on the radio, hardly in earshot.
