We're Still Alive(Book1)BEING REWRITTEN

Twelve

Senoia, GA.

          "We have to bury them." Martine looked up at Gavin from his spot on the floor as the younger boy walked back inside three hours later. "We can't leave them like this. We have to bury them."

           Gavin agreed. "There might be some shovels in the shed." He walked back outside and over to the shed. He'd never had a chance to check it before, so he made sure to look over every inch of it. He was surprised to find one corner filled with 5 or 6 cans of gas. There was also some wood planks leaning against a wall, and an old horse bridle that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. There was also a saw and a large hunting knife collecting dust. The rest was mostly made up of gardening tools; rakes, spades, and, more importantly, shovels. Gavin picked up two of them, snatched up the hunting knife, and walked back to the house. Martine was standing outside, next to the two bodies. He must have dragged them out. Gavin quietly handed him a shovel and started digging next to the bodies. Martine joined in.
          Gavin wiped the sweat off his forehead and looked at the sky. The sun had risen sometime while they were digging and was getting high in the sky. He didn't realize how long they'd been working. Now he looked back at the graves, each marked by two planks of wood tied into the shape of a cross with a name engraved in each one; Mary and Dan. Martine was sitting on the ground, staring blankly at the graves. His shirt was soaked with sweat, along with a few droplets of blood that wasn't even his.
          "I'm gonna go get some water, you want some?" Gavin asked from the doorway. Martine just shook his head. Gavin walked inside and over to the fridge. It was warm inside and smelled like rotting meat. He opened it up and pulled out two water bottles, then walked back outside.
          "Hey!" He yelled to Martine before throwing one of the bottles to him. He caught the bottle and glared at Gavin, but didn't protest as he opened it and gulped the water down. Gavin sat on the lowest porch step and drank his own water. They sat for what felt like hours. Gavin was clueless. He didn't have any idea about what was going on, and he was stuck on a farm that wasn't even an actual farm anymore. He knew that they had to get moving; somewhere, anywhere. He thought that Martine probably knew too, but he wasn't about to ask him about it. Not while he was mourning. But every minute they sat there. Gavin started to feel more and more anxious. They needed to leave. They had to go somewhere safe. They had to find more people. But he had no idea what lay past the farm. Past those two graves, that old barn with its one small inhabitant, the quiet farmhouse surrounded by
fields of dying crops and a helicopter that may never fly again. He took another sip of water. What about his parents? Were they safe and okay somewhere? Maybe they had found a safe place like him, or more survivors to hole up with. He looked over at Martine. Maybe the people with his parents were more social. Maybe they weren't people at all. Maybe they were half-dead, flesh-eating zombies along with his parents that he might never see again. He took in a deep breath to keep from crying and took another drink of water, emptying the plastic bottle.
          "Cincinnati." Martine's voice broke the silence.
          Gavin tried to control his voice. "What?"
          "There's supposed to be some kind of safe zone in Cincinnati, Ohio. It's protected by the military. There's other places, but Cincinnati is the most protected."
          "How do you know that?" Gavin asked, looking up.
          He could tell Martine was trying to smile as he answered, "Don't you watch the news?" Gavin gave a small laugh, happy to be distracted from his thoughts.
          "My parents went to Columbus a few days ago." Gavin added. "It's not far from Cincinnati; they could be there now. And I found a few gas cans in the shed. We could probably make it. That is, unless you can fly that?" He gestured to the helicopter.
          "Yeah, right." Martine scoffed. "If only." Then he stood up. "Might as well get started then. Which car's yours? The Cadillac or that silver one?"
          "Cadillac." Gavin answered quickly. "You don't wanna take the
silver one, trust me."