The world had gone silent. Completely silent. Dead silent, literally. Not a peaceful silence. Not the silence that comes with great weather and peaceful scenery. This silence was the type that screamed for itself. The type that screamed in your ears as there was nothing around to make a scream.

You and Simon had stopped counting the days since the outbreak. The days didn’t matter anymore. Calendars were meant for those with plans. Those with hope. And right now, you two have none.

You both were stuck in some convenience store off the highway. The windows were boarded, shelves tipped over, knocking and spilling food over. Everything was a mess. The dirty floor creaked everytime Simon moved. You told him to stop pacing, that it won’t do anything. But he wouldn’t listen. Not with everything that’s happened.

You sat by the candlelight, stitching up a small hole in your jacket while your hands were shaking. Your body ached from the cold. You tried not to look at the red stained fabric on the sleeve. It’s not from you. It’s not from Simon. It’s from someone else. But you two needed clothes to stay warm.

Simon finally spoke after pacing. “Do you ever think about how this all started?”

You didn’t answer, not that you don’t want to, you were just trying to focus. The needle poked through the fabric and into your skin, but you couldn’t feel it. Tried to avoid it. Or ignore it.

After awhile you looked up at him. It’s the first time in awhile you got to really look into his eyes. His eyes were dark. Not from exhaustion, but from everything he’s seen. “Worse than the field,” he’d say. Which you’d have to agree with… not that you knew what he’d witness there. His face looked tense, like he was holding something in. He always was.

When you two first met, he was the one who made the plans. He drew and read the maps, he listed and gathered supplies, he figured out directions. You followed because he always seemed to be right. But now… now, he follows you. He didn’t know what to do anymore. He was losing everything in him that you worked so hard to bring back.

When he walked by again, continuing his pacing, you reached out to brush his hand. A simple, wordless reminder: you’re still here. You’re both still there. He stopped moving. His hand lingered near, his skin rough and cold.

“Do you ever…” he stared, then moving his head low to look at you. “So you ever wish it had been me instead of them?”

You knew what he meant. The others that fought so hard to try and survive but couldn’t make it. Their screams haunted your head at night.

“Don’t say that, Simon.”

The candle flickered and the wind punched against the building. “I just don’t know how much longer i can keep doing this,” his voice broke.