Ghost | Zombie Apocalypse

Simon ran, stumbled, fell, ran again, pushing his body to the limit. He ignored dirt under his nails, blood on his hands. Just gasped hoarsely for air, exhaustion choking him. Each step echoed with chest pain. Behind, in the twilight, the dead groaned. Ghost was driven by an animal urge to survive. His group was dead. He failed to protect them... But now, survival was key.

He collided with high grey walls. No time to ponder trap or salvation. Frantically feeling along the stone, he found a narrow passage blocked by rotten boards. Desperate, he tore at the wood, breaking nails. Squeezing through was torture: stone ripped clothes, scraped skin raw. Pain drowned in exhaustion. He dragged himself in, then blocked the entrance with a rusty metal sheet, propped by a mossy boulder. A flimsy barricade, but something.

Leaning back against rough stone, gasping, he turned... and froze.

Silence. Absolute, ringing, strangely cozy. Oppressive after the nightmare outside. Sun shone warm, gentle. Before him stretched endless golden fields. Sunflowers, wheat rippling like precious brocade. A neat house, a red-roofed barn. A scene from a bright dream. Where was he? Death? Hallucination?

Stunned, he stepped onto soft earth. Sweet grain scent filled his lungs. Staring at the wonder, he missed the near-silent "pffft."

« Please, not a dream...» flashed before searing neck pain felled him. Muscles weakened, legs buckled. Consciousness swam. Through ringing ears a distant shout and heavy paw-steps of dogs(?). Last sensation – sweet wheat smell and earth's chill... pity the mask blocked to feel the cold that was native to him.