175

The walk through the forest is tedious and arduous, but traveling the road could be far more dangerous. You hike twenty feet in from the highway, keeping watch of the black snake with the yellow snake down its back as it winds across the land. Your lack of food is almost overwhelming. Trees look like hot dogs, leaves like tiny sugary candies, and stones like chocolate morsels. You daydream of eating Uncle Lou's lumpy, yet somehow liquidy oatmeal. And it saddens you that you'll never taste that terrible oatmeal again. The back of your head throbs in pain, and you are barely sweating despite the heat, all signs of dehydration. You keep your eyes on the lookout for any bodies of water, but even then, you have no means to purify stagnant creek water.

Besides the simple noises of the forest, your own footsteps clomp the hard earth of the forest creating a rhythmic tone. Soon, the peaceful sounds are broken by the thrash of foliage. Something is moving your way at a steady pace, and it is not trying to sneak up. Branches snap and leaves rustle. The rest of the forest is silent, except for the heavy clamor of a beast rushing through the woods.

Up ahead and to the right, the trees break and a steep hill rises, leading to a sheer stone overhang two-stories high. To your left is the open highway, which would make running much faster should you need to make a break and would be clear for shooting at a zombie.