...it's any good. Thanks 
? She looked out the window, down at the dank surroundings. All around her were buildings that had long since collapsed into and now lay as rubble on a floor of foliage. Shivering she hugged herself and remembered the great city this had once been. London was the capital of England, home to 7 million people, now only a few thousand remained a testament to the viciousness of the virus.
Sighing she looked to the walls, built hastily to contain those infected. They were 3 stories tall, escape was impossible enough, even without the gun slinging uninfected patrolling the borders. She tensed, tomorrow she would scale them. She didn’t know if she would survive but she had to try. Inhaling deeply she took the rifle, leant against the windowsill and stared out at the vacant landscape. To not try would be to sentence her son to death.
A knot caught in her throat. He would be sixteen soon, the day of reckoning, when the Family would kill him, to ‘protect our safety.’ Already she had lost two boys to their ridiculous cleansing notion. They thought if all infected were slaughtered the walls would be torn down and they would be welcomed back like forgotten brethren.
She knew better. For over a year she had done what the guards did. She had patrolled the walls, shooting any infected that tried to get out. They weren’t to be released, ever. The walls would never be taken down. Then, one dark night an infected escaped. It scaled the walls and touched her, just one little touch.
Her co-workers, her friends worked with great speed, shooting the infected. They left her alive, showing her mercy. She looked out onto the wasteland. Sometimes she wasn’t sure they showed mercy that night.
They threw her inside the walls, down two stories, onto an old four story building. Almost every bone in her body had been shattered from the impact. When she awoke she was on a bed, a woman at her side and a wet flannel on her head. That was the Family. They found her, took her in and nursed her back to strength. For the first few years they’d been the only thing keeping her alive. They fed her, gave her a bed, kept her safe from the infected.
Then their insane doctrine came into effect. Suddenly all teenage boys were killed, the Family thinking the virus came from a mutated strand of male DNA. After the birth of her third son she knew she must escape. For fifteen years she planned and plotted. Tomorrow night all that plotting would finally be put to use.
She turned to her son, the reason for all this. His blonde hair shook as he breathed softly in and out. She knelt by him and stroked his hair away from his mouth. He moaned a little and shifted over. His mother smiled before taking up her post at the windowsill again.
She looked to the wall. 'Tomorrow it all begins,' she thought, 'tomorrow we make our escape.'
? She looked out the window, down at the dank surroundings. All around her were buildings that had long since collapsed into and now lay as rubble on a floor of foliage. Shivering she hugged herself and remembered the great city this had once been. London was the capital of England, home to 7 million people, now only a few thousand remained a testament to the viciousness of the virus.Sighing she looked to the walls, built hastily to contain those infected. They were 3 stories tall, escape was impossible enough, even without the gun slinging uninfected patrolling the borders. She tensed, tomorrow she would scale them. She didn’t know if she would survive but she had to try. Inhaling deeply she took the rifle, leant against the windowsill and stared out at the vacant landscape. To not try would be to sentence her son to death.
A knot caught in her throat. He would be sixteen soon, the day of reckoning, when the Family would kill him, to ‘protect our safety.’ Already she had lost two boys to their ridiculous cleansing notion. They thought if all infected were slaughtered the walls would be torn down and they would be welcomed back like forgotten brethren.
She knew better. For over a year she had done what the guards did. She had patrolled the walls, shooting any infected that tried to get out. They weren’t to be released, ever. The walls would never be taken down. Then, one dark night an infected escaped. It scaled the walls and touched her, just one little touch.
Her co-workers, her friends worked with great speed, shooting the infected. They left her alive, showing her mercy. She looked out onto the wasteland. Sometimes she wasn’t sure they showed mercy that night.
They threw her inside the walls, down two stories, onto an old four story building. Almost every bone in her body had been shattered from the impact. When she awoke she was on a bed, a woman at her side and a wet flannel on her head. That was the Family. They found her, took her in and nursed her back to strength. For the first few years they’d been the only thing keeping her alive. They fed her, gave her a bed, kept her safe from the infected.
Then their insane doctrine came into effect. Suddenly all teenage boys were killed, the Family thinking the virus came from a mutated strand of male DNA. After the birth of her third son she knew she must escape. For fifteen years she planned and plotted. Tomorrow night all that plotting would finally be put to use.
She turned to her son, the reason for all this. His blonde hair shook as he breathed softly in and out. She knelt by him and stroked his hair away from his mouth. He moaned a little and shifted over. His mother smiled before taking up her post at the windowsill again.
She looked to the wall. 'Tomorrow it all begins,' she thought, 'tomorrow we make our escape.'