In a life threatening situation, the human mind can resort to very drastic means in order to survive. What, then, would the mind do if the whole world was trying to kill you?

The Apocalypse Chronicles

-Part I-

-The Water of Life-

Chapter One

A gentle breeze blew through the oak's branches, shaking them, and causing several leaves to drift down in wide, falling arcs. Three teenagers walked silently past the tree, they carried weapons, and tried desperately not to be heard.

They came to the end of the asphalt road where they stepped onto cement pavement, turned left, and made their way towards the abandoned supermarket. The brick-built building stood about fifty feet in front of them, its windows allowed them only to see the black, un-lit room inside.

Above its once proud and clean windows hung a large sign which vaguely read "Go Groceries!" and the elements had faded the bright red color into a pink tone.

The short, young man who led the trio hurried over to the glass door and knelt down in front of it.

He removed the grey backpack from his shoulders, and took a small leather pouch from one of its pockets. The pouch clicked open and he took several tools from it, he then begun picking the door's lock.

One of the girls that stood in front of him looked over her shoulder to see how he was doing.

"Hurry up, Connor! They could be anywhere," She whispered, angrily, down at him. He appeared to have ignored her, but after several clicks the door opened, and he turned to her with a smile "Next time you can pick the lock, since you can get us in so much faster than me. Right Leslie," he sarcastically asked, her angry glare answered his question.

They hurried inside, shut the door quietly behind them, and locked it back. Connor squinted his grey eyes until they adjusted to the dark room. The rows of shelves that lined each isle were knocked over in random intervals, boxes and cans of various items littered the marble white floor, and the large room was maddeningly silent.

"Leslie, go get all the water that you can carry, and Rebekah, you go find any and all food that is still edible," He gave them their jobs, and they separated into different directions to retrieve the items. Connor watched until they had disappeared into the many isles, and out of sight.

He silently removed the bag from his left shoulder and, stealthily, unzipped the front pocket.

He walked over behind one of the counters, and knelt down to examine the different tobacco choices that sat there. His hand reached down to the bottom row, and lightly gripped a single, blue box of Marlboro Skylines. Nodding to himself, he looked back at the different colored packs and cans that remained.

He thought for a moment, and then also took a pack of Pall Malls, for himself. Connor then collected several other types of drug, antibiotics, fever reducers, etc.

As he placed the items in the first pocket of his bag, he remembered that Leslie's mom had asked him to grab a pack of Camel's for her while they were there. He found the kind she preferred, and dropped it in the bag with the other stuff.

When the bag pockets, and the contents, were safely secure, he stood from behind the counter. He shifted his eyes from the dirt incrusted checkout counter to glance up at the entrance. They froze on the form of a man that stood outside the store.

The man turned his head to look at Connor. His mouth dangled open, as if his jaw provided no support. A mixture of blood and saliva dripped from it, and fell onto the pavement underneath.

The minute he noticed Connor's form standing behind the counter, he flew into a mad rage, and pounded the glass door, flailing his arms violently against the fragile barrier.

Connor spun around and screamed back to the others "Infected! Guys hurry up, we have to move!" He spotted a nearby metal door that wasn't chained shut, and he knew that was his way out. There was a blood chilling sound of breaking glass from the door, which made him start moving.

He ran to the fire exit and lunged against the heavy door, forcing it open. Leslie's slim frame shot past him, and Rebekah followed closely behind, their backpacks of loot in hand. Connor slammed the brown metal door closed, the noise from it echoed easily around the silent town. He made sure it was securely latched, and then sprinted after them.

Further down the street, more Infected shambled towards them. Horrible groaning and gurgling noises drifted from the large horde that had gathered there. They had blocked Connor's only planned escape route. He swore under his breath, and began to run the opposite way, several different roads connected with the one that led to Leslie's house.

A second horde of Infected had blocked that way as well. He ran a hand over his shaven head, quickly weighing his available options. The two hordes formed a circle that trapped the three in the middle, the Infected threatened to cut off their only escape route.

"What do we do, Connor," Rebekah desperately yelled the question. He reached down to his belt, and pulled a Ruger pistol from his holster. She looked at him with surprise across her face.

She then smiled, pulled her machete from its sheath, and twirled it in several circles. Leslie sighed as she brought her baseball bat out of her backpack. The Infected slowly began to close in on them.