For Wyatt life was surprisingly normal. Well, if you didn't count all the Zombie running around. And that week it took him to get to the compound. But other than that, life was pretty much the same. Sure, there was no school now. Your education kind of takes a back seat when you're just struggling to survive. Even in the compound survival wasn't a given. There were about twenty or so people holed up in this abandoned building. At one point and time it belonged to the government. But now, it was safe. It had thick walls and doors and places from which everyone could defend it.
Wyatt had come to the compound by sheer luck. About five days ago he had been wandering around the city, in search for anything, when he ran across a small band of uninfected people. They told him about the compound and he had come back with them. It was a small community in a big building, which meant he could have a room all to himself. Even if it had obviously been someone's office. The desk had been shoved to one side, along with the no longer functioning computer, lights, etc. On the other side of the white washed room was a small pallet of blankets for Wyatt to sleep on. Unfortunately dragging an actual mattress into the compound was highly unpractical. Some of the other people who lived here had cots, but he hadn't been lucky enough to scavenge one for himself.
In the compound some things were communal, and others were finders keepers. For instance, food, water, medicine and batteries were all communal. Everything else was run by the policy, you find it, you carry it, you keep it. Some people lived like Kings in their rooms, having stuff everywhere. Others, like Wyatt, lived like this place wasn't home. Like by some miracle they could all go home tomorrow. But Wyatt knew that would never happen. His home was gone. There was nowhere else to go. There was also no sense in getting attached to one place.
Wyatt was a distant young adult at nineteen. After seeing his entire family and friends fall victim to the Apocalypse, it was understandable. So were the nightmares.
Wyatt woke with a gasp. It was dark all around and he groped for his machete. Only once it was in his hand did he calm down. He forced himself to take deep breaths.
"Just a dream. Just a dream." The redheaded boy repeated to himself over and over until he was able to relax and put down the machete.
Wyatt threw himself back down on his bed. His unseeing blue eyes stared at the dark ceiling. Judging by the degree of darkness sunrise wouldn't be for hours yet. Since there was no power, he had gotten to be a good judge of time. He closed his eyes and tried to think pleasant thoughts but they didn't come. When the sun rose, Wyatt was still awake. It wasn't until he heard other people moving around that he allowed himself to change clothes and leave him room and go in search of a bit of water to wash with.