Violet trudged through along the road. Her legs were on fire from walking so far, and she was soaked from head to toe in sweat. Her dark brown hair was falling out of her messy ponytail, matting to her forehead. Her sister Magenta clung to her hand, as she had been doing for days. Violet adjusted the straps of her backpack, which dug into her shoulders from the weight of their supplies. The backpack was lighter than it had been when they set out twelve days ago, and it was growing lighter each day. Violet was painfully aware of the gnawing in her stomach, and though Magenta never complained, she knew her sister felt the same. She tried to think of some way to find food, but she was weary from traveling and found it impossible to focus.

"Let's rest a while, Magenta," she breathed, panting from exertion. The little girl nodded, her greasy light brown hair clumping on her forehead. The girls sat down on the side of the road. Magenta leaned against Violet's backpack and closed her eyes.

Violet looked around. The road was abandoned, but other than the emptiness the area seemed unaffected by the past events. She couldn't believe that it had really happened. What everyone called "the apocalypse" had come. She didn't want to believe at first. She wanted to think that the news reports were someone's sick idea of a joke. She didn't want to think of what it meant to have the dead return to life, soulless and empty, hungry for anything with a pulse. But it had happened. Now she and her sister, the only survivors from her church, were running for their lives out in the wilderness. Since the day they had left, they hadn't seen a single other living person. Of course, she had seen mobs of the dead, standing in groups; not moving, not thinking, not feeling. She shuddered at the thought.

Violet looked down at Magenta, who had fallen asleep still holding onto her hand. Magenta hadn't let go of Violet since their parent's death at the church. She hadn't spoken a word either. Violet was worried, but wasn't able to deal with the problems so soon. She still needed to find somewhere safe to stay; somewhere the five year old girl could be raised. But by who? Violet thought. I'm only 17. I can't take care of her! Violet stared down at Magenta's face. She was sunburned and scratched, and her clothes and hair were incredibly dirty. Wow, I can't even keep her safe from the sun. How will I keep her alive?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of the dead shuffling towards her. She turned to look down the road the way they had come. Walking jerkily but steadily towards them were twenty or so of the strange creatures, their dry moans cutting through the silence. She shook Magenta's hand, and the child immediately stood and looked around. Violet followed, rising up and hoisting her backpack onto her shoulders. She led Magenta down the road, moving at a steady jog. The dead were behind them, moving slowly. Violet was too weak and unfocused to fight, but had enough strength to flee the monsters.

After what seemed like hours of silent jogging, Violet and Magenta slowed to a run. The girls were both panting, wiping sweat from their faces with their free hands.

"Great job, hon. You're doing great," she said to Magenta, who was stumbling along, weary from exhaustion and hunger. "Do you think we should rest again?"

Magenta shook her head and did her best to stand up straight. Violet sighed. Her sister was obviously struggling to keep up with her pace, and yet she still refused to stop and rest. "That's my little trooper," she giggled, yanking the girls arm into the air. She swung Magenta up so that she was riding on her back. Magenta quickly scrambled up onto Violets shoulders and released her hand, immediately grabbing onto her head. Violet continued on her way, silently praying for a miracle.