Bells rubbed his hands and grinned as he looked down at his mess of wires, metal, and sparks. Most of the items were forged, or from any of the very rare, actually living people who somehow managed to pass through the town that he would pick pocket. Because that was the thing about Bells. He had fast hands. And in a zombie apocalypse, thats all you can really hope for. Fast hands, fast legs, fast brain, and most importantly, fast digestive system. Bells stood up, fumbling a little and holding the bomb to his chest in panic. He glanced out the window and whispered "Bombs away" before throwing it into a waiting crowd of undead and ducking down, plugging his ears as the awaited BOOM echoed through the averagely silent town. Bells slowly opened one eye, then the other, before standing up and brushing white hair out of his face. Bells grinned widely as he looked outside, this deserved a drink. And a drink, deserved a trip down to the liqueur store.
YOU ARE READING
The Boy, The Bomb, And The Bottle
Science FictionA Zombie Apocalypse tears apart the world, while some people manage to survive and leave almost normal lives. Bells Hark lives in his tree house in the center of his hometown where he blows up zombies, drinks, and does whatever he wants. That is, un...
