I remember these shrubs and overgrown brambles. Every day I took the same train to the same office five days a week. Week after week after week this journey was my life there and back and always the same weeds, shrubs and overgrown brambles.
Then I hated the recurrence of that journey, I hated my job but it was necessary, now I would do anything to be able to go back to the repetitiveness of life before whatever this has now become.
I even find something comforting looking at the train track, the overgrowth and the stillness of the area, but instead of being inside the train carriage I am stood in front of them and I must work out how to get through them to the other side of the tracks
About 500yds down the track on the opposite side is the abandoned train carriage I am trying to get to. That will be my bed for the night, my safety from the creatures when they come out to hunt. I only have a few hours to get through this mass of growth and to the carriage. I need to get on but there is something that saddens me disturbing this mass of nature that has been an unknown part of my life in its current form.
Shit, I hate the noises of this world, every scratch and screech reminds me of the nightmare that is about to descend, and of the life I have now forsaken. I take out my small axe and start to hack at the brambles, allowing them to scratch at me and tear up my skin in a frenzy. You learn to keep focused now and concentrate on the task at hand, time is no longer a friend and as the dusk draws in and I manage to climb through I push on to the train.
Here they come, hunting for the few living people that remain. But humans have retained something they have lost, we remain intelligent and this will help us win the war, even if we lost most of the battles.
