Protector || Shane Walsh

Chapter 1

Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Fatin Majidi.

I am only slightly aware that I'm walking down the middle of the street. Out in the open and in full view. I don't know how much noise I may be making, on my lonesome journey either.

This poses a threat of danger but I'm in no state to think about that. All I know is I have a destination. Exactly when and how I get there is beyond me.

As I float by in my catatonic stupor, I am vaguely aware of the unclean feeling on my skin. My hands still dirty from burying my best friend.. My arms and legs, covered in a brown mixture of dirt and dried blood.

What has this world come to? I'm unsure if I still want to be a part of it. My soul is empty. I'm an emotional and mental zombie. Will I become a physical one too?

Do I care if I do or don't, at this point?

Flourishes of dark thoughts repeatedly flow through my mind. It's hard to fight them off; I have never felt so numb. Yet I somehow manage to continue dragging one foot in front of the other.

I walk through the front door of my destination; the local art and craft store. I am in need of more paper and pencils. That was the only clear thought I was able to latch onto, the one thought that I apparently decided to move for.

Prior to coming here, I had been sitting at Willow's fresh grave, unmoving for hours. That is where the numbness took hold.

Now I'm back in town, in this dark, unlit art store and I find myself staring at the shelves that hold all the different drawing pads.

In my sad, dream-like state, I manage to shove some paper in my backpack, then make my way to the pencil section and add some of those to my pack too, my movements feeling robotic. I yank my pack up, to swing it onto my back but it smashes into the underside of the shelf with a loud bang.

Plastic pen cups hit the floor like a round of applause. Clay pen cups roll off and shatter into pieces. Pencils rain down.

A tiny voice in the back of my mind says "shit" at all the noise, but I just watch it happen. Like an out of body experience.

When everything is finished falling and all is still once again, I stand there for a few moments longer, staring and blinking.

The next thought to mosey on through my catatonic brain is that I should probably make my way back home.

I eventually shuffle my feet and make my way back through the front door, paying no attention to my surroundings.

I step out the door and begin to make a left turn but come to a halt as I lock eyes with an undead.

The decrepit thing is about five metres ahead of me, looking at me like I'm an oasis in a desert. It makes wordless noises, perking up at the sight of me as it trudges its way over.

I am frozen on the spot, still stuck in my stupor. Move dammit! I mentally scream at myself.

Wait, why should I? There's nothing left for me. This will end the suffering. The pain, the grief, the endless, everyday paranoia. I think to myself.

But it will open up a whole new level of suffering when this undead thing opens me up.

I take in quick, short breaths as it stumbles closer. I hear more groans coming from behind me and turn my head. Two more undead are approaching, about ten metres from me.

I look back to the one in front of me and all I can do is whisper "Stop."

Stop coming towards me. Just give me a minute. Just wait, please. I don't want to die like this..