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Dear Friend

We had a good run. Well, I did. You tried to run, but not fast enough, even though I was screaming. I know they don't seem like much one-on-one, but man, when there's lots of 'em, those zombies can sure be fast.

I found a postcard on the ground and figured I'd write you a letter. Dunno why. Maybe when you're on the other side you'll get to read it. We're packing what's left of our stuff now. Gonna try to find some more weapons, then maybe a farm or something, someplace safe to hole up for a bit. Maybe join up with another group if we see one. The cities are overrun. I'm going to leave this in your mailbox before I set your house on fire - sorry, but it's crawling with Flesh-eaters. It was a nice house, too. I guess we all have to make sacrifices in the apocalypse. Anna's safe too, by the way. I got her out in time. Poor little girl was so confused as to where her brother went - but I'll take good care of her, I promise. The whole thing was hell. Remember, how we were eating dinner and the zombies barged in? Everyone else managed to get out pretty quick, we met with them later. But one of the things was already chomping on your arm. The way you were screaming at me to shoot you - it's burned into my brain. And I did, you went fast, if that helps. It probably doesn't, but I guess nothing can anymore, except for this promise.

When this is all over I'll make sure to give you a proper funeral. For now we're moving on, we got to, to stay alive. Rest easy, man. I'm sorry.

Story by:

Sydney Stoltz

11 December 2013