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It’s been too long, and I’ve been far too depressed looking at attractive men only to find that they think washing their ass makes them gay.

What I wouldn’t give to hook up with a man. I don’t even care if I never see him again. I just want someone to throw me on my stomach, shove my face into the damn ground, and pound into me like their life depended on it. I just need one good time before my head explodes or my dick. My hand just isn’t doing it anymore. My fingers aren’t doing it either. But what can you do? The answer is absolutely nothing.

Jamie kicks something across the road, making enough noise that I swing my head around, glaring.

“Will you be quiet?” I hiss through clenched teeth. Jamie lifts his head, frowning as if I said something off the wall. I don’t understand how he’s survived this long. Jamie is your typical big jock guy, the ones from college that play football but don't have a brain.

“Sorry,” he says a little too loudly.

I roll my eyes, turning my focus back to the road. Debris covers most of the ground, and cars hang off the side of the road. While I prefer Jamie not to be helping me search for supplies, he’s the least annoying out of the bunch. He’s in the group that fights off the zombies, where I’m the one that can slip in and out without being seen or heard.

In the new world, there are more bad people than good. Not that anyone is good nowadays. Even in groups, people look out for themselves. Though it’s nice to feel like I’m a part of something, I still look out for myself.

But sometimes, I wish I could be a part of something more. Be with someone who cares for me, who?—

I shake my head, refusing to let myself hope and dream of a world that no longer exists. Since I got separated from Rue at the party, it was the last time I felt safe.

“We going to check that building?” Jamie questions.

I slow down, glancing over my shoulder to see where he’s pointing in the distance. A considerable-sized building sits a few acres down, and most of the outside is overgrown. But it could be worth checking out.

“Sure, there might be something there,” I finally say. Jamie huffs but nods his head. I might not want to check the building, which could be crawling with more zombies than Jamie and I can handle. But the idea of showing up to the group empty-handed is worse. Not that they’re bad people—they’re not.

We slowly and, for the most part, quietly make our way to the building. Jamie is more like a bull in a china shop, always walking with a heavy foot.

With each step, I bite my tongue harder, moments from breaking through and having my tongue bitten off. I would like to think I’m a pretty easygoing guy, but Jamie just gets under my skin. It’s probably due to the fact he reminds me too much of the jocks from college. I wasn’t bullied as much as one might think, but still being a gay kid in the South. It has had its difficulties. But jocks always thought they were better, and Jamie gives me the same feeling.

“I’ll check the first floor,” Jamie attempts to whisper. He doesn’t let me say anything before he turns around and heads to the stairs.

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” I mutter under my breath. Not that I want him to stick around, but I'd rather not search around when zombies have been known to pop out. I'd rather scream in pleasure than pain.

I tighten the straps of my backpack and tighten my grip on the rocks I’m holding. Watching Jamie until he disappears from view.

I turn and head down the hallway, keeping my eyes open for any movement and my ears open for any sounds. From the small amount of walking I’ve done, it’s clear this was a government building. But what kind? I’m not sure. I wasn’t sure what lay behind most closed doors, but something told me not to even look.

Life wasn’t always like this. I lived in Louisiana, went to college, and had a best friend who was more or less a complete bitch. But she meant well,sometimes.

I creep along the wall, the concrete following liters with empty shells from a shotgun. Bullet holes fill the wall, and glass crunches under my boots. I tried to stay as quiet as I could, but nothing like stepping on glass in a hallway would make it seem like I was yelling down the halls.

The quiet was something I’ve been trying to adjust to. I never enjoyed the silence much. Having grown up with a mother who’s a scientist and has people coming and going most of the time. Even my father, who owns a security company, always had people around—always talking. Even in college, Rue didn’t talk much, but her face said it all. But Mallory, man, that girl didn’t know how to shut up. I thought it bothered me, but now, I would give just about anything to hear her talk.

Just thinking of them physically hurts my heart. The ache hits me low in the stomach, threatening to make bile rise in my throat. Knowing Rue, she made it; she somehow conned her way into safety. But Mallory, that poor girl probably tripped in her heels and died.

I shake my head, trying to stop myself from thinking about them. I don’t have time to sit here and cry about the past.

I reached the end of the hallway, and the last door cracked open. My heart beats heavily against my ribcage, making bile rise in my throat. Call me a little bitch boy, but I don’t do jump scares. And that’s exactly what zombies do. I’ve seen enough of The Walking Dead before it became the new reality.

“Boo.”

I jump three feet in the air, turning around to find Jamie standing there with a stupid grin on his face.

“Eat shit,” I mumble, trying to get my breathing and heart under control. Make that another reason I hate zombies. I wouldn’t have been afraid if someone said boo before. But now? I’m surprised I hadn’t shit my pants.

“There’s nothing upstairs; most of this place has been cleaned out.”

I nod, flexing and cracking my knuckles. It was a habit I made when I was nervous and, I guess, scared. However, I would never tell Jamie or anyone else that. Even if I was moments from being ripped apart and eaten, I would take the fact I’m scared shitless to the grave. Only then, when I saw Rue and Mallory, would I admit I was scared before yelling at Rue for leaving me.

“Did you check the rooms?” He asks, glancing back at the hallway.