Chapter 14 (We're Okay)

Chapter 14: We're Okay

Ethan Warren

December, 2022

Seven months after outbreak

The Apartment, Minnesota

Season 1

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The first snowfall was yesterday. We all had fun making snowmen, having snowball fights, and simply forgetting that this is the end of the world. Dallen's leg healed perfectly. Rudolph's been up and walking since early October. Khai built a metal fence around our house to keep the dead out and just so we could get some fresh air without having to climb all the way up to the roof. She also tore down all the walls on the first floor so we could have a dining room table, a place to store weapons, and a place to talk. She then did the most and found a heater that could run on gas and not electricity. I was grateful for everything she was doing, but I didn't want her to feel like everything was her responsibility. She deserved to feel at home just like the rest of us, not to carry the pressure of making us stronger. That was something we had to equally work for; we were all burdened with the responsibility of doing our part. Creating a sense of belonging and shared responsibility was crucial for our survival. Each of us understood the importance of contributing to our makeshift community, whether it was through hunting for food, fortifying our defenses, or simply lending a listening ear to one another. Together, we strived to create an environment where everyone felt valued and supported, knowing that our collective efforts would make us stronger in the face of adversity.

My birthday was supposed to be November 4th, but we kind of lost track of the days. Edin's was sometime this month, but we didn't know the exact day. She told us it was in December, though. Being an adult feels exactly the same as being a kid in this world. I know I should probably just forget about caring how old we all are; it didn't matter. But I needed something to hold onto.

Christmas was soon; we didn't know when, but we knew it was soon. We decided we'd celebrate it next week. The dead haven't been much of a problem lately; maybe it was the change in weather; we can only guess, but it was nice nonetheless.

Aaron kissed Rudi, they both smiled and held hands, cherishing the moment of affection. It reminded them that amidst the chaos, love still existed and brought them comfort in this unpredictable world. They had made snow angels in the backyard. I could tell Rudi didn't feel the same about Aaron. Rudi valued their friendship and didn't want to hurt Aaron's feelings, so he chose to cherish the innocent moments they shared together. Despite his reservations, Rudi found solace in the fact that their bond provided a sense of stability amidst the uncertainty of their surroundings.

We were sitting pretty at the end of the world. We were lucky, but we knew many others weren't, and we were brought back into that reality when we heard the screams. There were people outside, and it was up to me if we were to help them or not.

We had to help, that's still who we are. I pulled out my handgun that I keep in the back of my pants. Khai keeps hers in the inside pocket of her jacket. The others went inside to grab theirs from the first floor. As we armed ourselves, adrenaline surged through our veins, reminding us of the dangers that lurked beyond our safe haven. We knew that venturing out meant risking our own lives, but the screams grew louder and more desperate, urging us to take action. With a shared determination, we locked eyes and nodded, ready to face whatever awaited us.

Khai and I opened the gate; we killed the dead, but we didn't put our guns down after; we kept them pointed at the skulls of the newcomers. Two women and one man. Their eyes were filled with fear and confusion as they stumbled towards us, their hands raised in surrender. We exchanged wary glances, unsure of whether to trust them or not.

"Thank you, thank you so much. God appreciates your kindness," the man said. His voice trembled with gratitude as he spoke, his words carrying a hint of desperation. Khai and I exchanged another glance, silently questioning if their expressions of gratitude were genuine or merely a ploy to lower our guard.

"God left a long time ago; who are you and what do you want? Khai interrogated.

"Do you have room to spare? My friend here is pregnant; we fear the baby will come soon, and we don't have the resources to provide for it. Please help us, friends. We will do whatever you ask," the preacher begged. Khai and I remained skeptical, unsure of whether to trust the preacher's plea. However, the desperation in his voice and the genuine concern for the unborn child tugged at our hearts, making us reconsider our initial doubts.

"Get inside," I ordered. Khai gave me an angry look, but she didn't say anything in protest. Reluctantly, we allowed the preacher to enter our humble home. As he stepped inside, we couldn't help but notice the weariness etched on his face, a testament to the hardships he had endured. We knew that our decision could have far-reaching consequences, but deep down, we couldn't ignore the empathy that compelled us to offer our assistance.

"God bless you, sir. God bless you."