The end never comes (WIP)

I walk through the woods.  The sun is bright in the sky, the trees are alive, and I stroll along at a relaxed pace.  Everything is quiet; there haven't been any animals here in a long time.

My mind is drawn back to then, many years ago.  So many animals.  So many sounds.  I miss that world.

I look down at the lush grass, and I try to tread carefully.  I don't want to hurt the flowers, nor trip on the exposed bones.

The quiet used to be unnerving, one upon a time.  But as the days, weeks, months passed, I got used to it.

I come to the clearing, and I see the torn and decayed remains of a camp.  There's not much left of the tent; the synthetic fabrics lasted for a long time.

I meander to the log that once was used as a seat, easing myself down onto it, and look around.

So much as changed since I died.  Since the world died.  But then, it didn't really die.  It moved on, as it always has.

I remember waking up in that tent, though it wasn't really waking up.  I had died in my sleep, like many people did.  Those who survived weren't so lucky.

I'm not proud.  At first, I was just as uncontrollable as anyone else.  The hunger overrode my control.  Fortunately, out here, away from everyone, all I had were my friends.  I wish they had died with me.