2 Home Sweet Home

It was almost sundown by the time I got back to the farm. As I rang the bell out front a ladder is was quickly let down by someone on top of the wall. The whole farm is surrounded by a ten foot tall wall that we've tried our best to obscure with ivy shrubs and trees so that it's practically invisible from far away.

As I hoisted myself up a pair of arms encircled me in a tight hug. I pat Alex on the back before stepping back he always worries the most about those of us who venture out. "I've got plenty of apples for all of us" I said holding out the bag to show him.

His eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. Alex rarely speaks. He saw both of his parents mauled to death after a run in with a stalker. Stalkers were the only zombies that seemed to retain any semblance of intelligence. No one knows how or why, but when they see a human they are able to stalk them indefinitely. If you're not able to kill it, or don't realize that you're being stalked, other zombies will start following as well until you have a large horde to contend with.

Alex took the bag from me and headed to the kitchen, a building we had made ourselves using bricks from abandoned buildings in the town that used to be nearby and makeshift stucco. Although most of us occasionally took turns with some part of the food prep, Alex's food tasted the best, and I couldn't wait to see what he did with the apples.

"Ma, I'm back!" I called out.

A lady in her late seventies with a long grey braid falling down her back cane out from the front room of the old farm house. Technically Ma is my maternal grandmother, but I was raised by her even in the before times due to an unfortunate car accident that claimed the lives of both of my parents. Although all major decisions were made by vote, Ma, as we all called her, was the unspoken leader of the group. Rarely did we ever vote against her council.

"Are you reporting now or after dinner?" She asked

"Now is fine" I replied

It was expected that after anyone left the farm they would make a report at the old farm house. I went in to what used to be the den. When we had converted the old farm house to our home base we set up this room as a sort of information hub to organize our lives. I believe this is the reason we have been able to survive so we'll, the extreme organization that Ma and the other older members of the group helped us establish.

First I logged the details of my trip in the notebook we were using to track these things. I wrote as small as possible to conserve space. We didn't know how long it would be until we found more paper so we had to make it last. Then I went to the large hand drawn map that covered an entire wall of the room. I carefully added a few more details to help others navigate, then I painstakingly drew and labeled the apple tree.

I liked to think of myself as a good artist. Jaime and a few of the others often asked me to add details to the map for them after they had gone out. Maybe if none of this had happened I would have been an artist. I think I would have enjoyed illustrating books.

"Food!" I heard Jesslyn yell at the top of her lungs, snapping me out of my daydream.