meganleigh95

I creep down the alley, watching silently while the soldiers march down the street—sixteen-year-olds with the light of first battle in their eyes in the front, seventeen-year-olds with bloodlust, eighteen-year-olds with that weary, old-man look. Once you’ve been in as many fights as we have, you stop caring what the war’s about. All you know is that the former United States is split. Surviving fighters on the East Coast, battling off African battleships, allies on the West Coast fighting the Asians. There is no more China, Thailand, Korea, Taiwan—they’re all joined together with one common goal: annihilate the En

After a fairly disastrous family dinner, complete with heated shouts and stinging accusations, and the ever-present, bone-crushing disappointment in the only daughter of Mickey and Stephen Stryker, most people would go for a walk in the silent, posh neighborhood of Gates of Eden. Which is where I am now. Nothing exciting happens in Gates of Eden. At least, nothing anyone should know about. But if there’s a secret in this neighborhood, there’s someone you don’t like who happens to know it. In most cases, that’s everybody. One of the things often discussed in my loving, accepting home. My parents don’t want o

     I step out of the dairy house, a bucket of milk in my hands. It’s spring, and the air is already warming up. I set the bucket down and stretch, my eyes raking the horizon to the east. The sun is just above the flat horizon, flooding the plains with gorgeous light. I sigh contently. I love the farm Momma raised me on. Even if we don’t have a fence and have to fight off the occasional Infected.     I look west, where the ragged mountains line the edge of the view. I’ve dreamt my whole life about leaving, exploring every nook and cranny of those mysterious behemoths. But Momma told me it’s the perfect place to get

        I love October. For one, it's autumn. The leaves are turning those brilliant shades in the mountains, the air holds just enough of a nip to wake me up in the morning and give my usually-pale cheeks a splash of color, and Mamaw makes the absolute best apple cider and cushaw pie this side of the Appalachians. Plus, of course, my birthday. And Halloween. Which happen to coincide. Creepy, isn't it? Well, despite my birthday being on a day reserved for goblins and ghouls, I'm a typical sixteen-year-old with a wide variety of interests. I play on the lady's basketball team at my prestigious private school, I hate geometry, want to stran