that I had been left behind like a piece of garbage. I ripped open a bag of dog food and spent the next several hours throwing it into the aisle. I couldn’t stop shivering. I unbraided my hair, hoping I could gain a little bit of warmth from its length. I closed my eyes, wanting to fall asleep. My brain wouldn’t allow it; every little noise made me jump to alertness, my heart instantly racing in fear.
Sometime in the hazy purple dawn, I drifted into a restless sleep, waking only an hour or so later. I eased off the shelf, stretched and gathered up my things. My first order of business was finding a car. I only had two clips left for my Beretta plus the arrows. Finding more weapons was my second priority. Food and water was third, though, if I got a car and drove straight to the compound, going a day with no food or water wouldn’t kill me.
My ankle didn’t hurt as badly as before, but it still wasn’t as good as normal. Ignoring it, I set off into the parking lot. There were three cars still in it and they were all new. I couldn’t hot wire anything hybrid. Moving on, I went back into the street. I kept my hand poised over the bow, ready to send a black arrow flying into the face of anything that got in my way.
And that’s exactly what I did when a lone S2 came around a corner. He saw me, turned away and let out a high pitched yell before he dropped to the ground. I thought it was strange, the way he almost let out a call when he saw me. It didn’t matter anymore. I stepped on his puffy chest,—something snapped and popped under my weight— grabbed my arrow, and pulled. It slid free from his rotten brain with ease. I was shaking it clean when five zombies ran around the same corner. Mouths gleaming with fresh blood, they had full bellies and were wicked fast.
Using the arrow as a spear, I drove it into the open mouth of the closest zombie. I kicked another in the chest; she staggered back, tripping over the curb. I knocked another to the ground before I curb stomped the S2 that reached for my feet. I pulled the M9 and shot two more in the head.
More zombies staggered out into the street. The herd hadn’t dispersed after all. They were all here, coming after me. There was no way I could take them all down. Not alone. I finished the clip, shoved a new one in and took the M9 in my left hand. I pulled my knife out with the other and set off to freedom, killing as many undead bastards as I could.
Two zombies tag teamed me. I spun around, my foot landing in the face of the shorter one while the knife sliced the other’s neck open. His head flopped back, sending him off balance. His arms were still held out in front of him and he blindly grabbed for me. I dropped and rolled out of the way just in time for him to fall, his skull bursting like a water balloon filled with rotten pea soup as it hit the pavement.
I fired a round into the nose of a young zombie, whose white dress was stained with pus and blood. They just kept coming, tripping over each other as they pushed their way to me. I jumped over a car, sliding over the hood and out of the reach of a fat S3. I plunged the knife into his forehead.
I slipped on ice as I sprinted down an alley behind the stretch of stores. I ran across a field and entered the woods again. I kept running until I was out of breath. I had outrun the zombies—for now. I stopped, doubling over as I panted. I pulled the water bottle out of my pocket, thankful all the running increased my body heat and further melted the ice. I drank what I could, recapped the bottle and pushed forward, sure I would come out on a road soon enough.
I was wrong. Hours later, I was still in the forest. Ice coated snowflakes burned my already frozen cheeks. I zipped my coat up as far as it would go. Shivering, I lifted my legs higher than necessary as I marched on, hoping to increase my blood flow and warmth into my cold limbs. I rubbed my arms, flinching in pain when I touched my wrist. I had forgotten
Sometime in the hazy purple dawn, I drifted into a restless sleep, waking only an hour or so later. I eased off the shelf, stretched and gathered up my things. My first order of business was finding a car. I only had two clips left for my Beretta plus the arrows. Finding more weapons was my second priority. Food and water was third, though, if I got a car and drove straight to the compound, going a day with no food or water wouldn’t kill me.
My ankle didn’t hurt as badly as before, but it still wasn’t as good as normal. Ignoring it, I set off into the parking lot. There were three cars still in it and they were all new. I couldn’t hot wire anything hybrid. Moving on, I went back into the street. I kept my hand poised over the bow, ready to send a black arrow flying into the face of anything that got in my way.
And that’s exactly what I did when a lone S2 came around a corner. He saw me, turned away and let out a high pitched yell before he dropped to the ground. I thought it was strange, the way he almost let out a call when he saw me. It didn’t matter anymore. I stepped on his puffy chest,—something snapped and popped under my weight— grabbed my arrow, and pulled. It slid free from his rotten brain with ease. I was shaking it clean when five zombies ran around the same corner. Mouths gleaming with fresh blood, they had full bellies and were wicked fast.
Using the arrow as a spear, I drove it into the open mouth of the closest zombie. I kicked another in the chest; she staggered back, tripping over the curb. I knocked another to the ground before I curb stomped the S2 that reached for my feet. I pulled the M9 and shot two more in the head.
More zombies staggered out into the street. The herd hadn’t dispersed after all. They were all here, coming after me. There was no way I could take them all down. Not alone. I finished the clip, shoved a new one in and took the M9 in my left hand. I pulled my knife out with the other and set off to freedom, killing as many undead bastards as I could.
Two zombies tag teamed me. I spun around, my foot landing in the face of the shorter one while the knife sliced the other’s neck open. His head flopped back, sending him off balance. His arms were still held out in front of him and he blindly grabbed for me. I dropped and rolled out of the way just in time for him to fall, his skull bursting like a water balloon filled with rotten pea soup as it hit the pavement.
I fired a round into the nose of a young zombie, whose white dress was stained with pus and blood. They just kept coming, tripping over each other as they pushed their way to me. I jumped over a car, sliding over the hood and out of the reach of a fat S3. I plunged the knife into his forehead.
I slipped on ice as I sprinted down an alley behind the stretch of stores. I ran across a field and entered the woods again. I kept running until I was out of breath. I had outrun the zombies—for now. I stopped, doubling over as I panted. I pulled the water bottle out of my pocket, thankful all the running increased my body heat and further melted the ice. I drank what I could, recapped the bottle and pushed forward, sure I would come out on a road soon enough.
I was wrong. Hours later, I was still in the forest. Ice coated snowflakes burned my already frozen cheeks. I zipped my coat up as far as it would go. Shivering, I lifted my legs higher than necessary as I marched on, hoping to increase my blood flow and warmth into my cold limbs. I rubbed my arms, flinching in pain when I touched my wrist. I had forgotten
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