Crash course (Book 3)

Chapter 3

They had started moving again. Nadwe had been writing and walking all morning. He had been working on writing down everything that he remembered. Anything about the Infected, Weapons, anything that would be important to surviving. He had fallen behind the rest of the group as he struggled to write. He leaned the book up against his left arm and used his right hand to write the things down. The left arm acting as a support for the book. He heard a growl above his head and he looked up. He couldn't see anything above his head but he slipped the book into his backpack and grabbed his gun again. He walked backwards keeping an eye up until he bumped in something. It let out a gurgle and he spun around to see a boomer standing behind him. He shoved it and took a few steps back. He shot at it and it exploded. He sighed with relief, that was something to write down.
"An effective way of dealing with a boomer is to shove them back then shoot." Nadwe recited aloud thinking about the sentence he would write. He wasn't good with drawing so he didn't have many pictures, he had attempted to draw some things on the first few pages. They weren't too badly drawn. "Leave it to me, Nadwe, to find a secret talent of being able to draw in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Leave it to me." Nadwe laughed to himself. He looked ahead, he realized he was walking by himself. "Just great, I'm lost!" He shouted out. He then clapped a hand over his own mouth realizing what he just did. He heard a few growls and screamed behind him. He turned to see a few common infected running at him. He took out his katana, a trusty weapon of his and started swinging. It caught the first infected in the neck, slicing the head off. The blood splattered over his face into his eye. He wiped the blood away in disgust. "Ew!" He groaned, "You guys bleed a lot," He spat as he sliced at another zombie. Nadwe smiled, he could have some fun with this, I mean what's the worst thing that could happen? He front-flipped and thrust his katana into the chest of an infected and removed it, sliding forwards into another infected thrusting the katan into its leg. Making it collapse. "Too easy!" He taunted. then felt one of them grab his leg as he started forwards. "Let go you stupid zombie!" He sliced the zombie's arm off and ran forwards. Making his grand escape. "That was fun, but I'm not going to make it when we have infected like Chargers, Smokers, hunters, and jockeys. They don't let go till they die." Nadwe muttered. He took his chance and called out his friend's name. "Meme? Ally?" He started out. He heard bird wings flapping above head. Three things could have startled those birds. If Nadwe was Lucky it was his friends, unlucky, a special infected. He heard coughing behind him and turned to see a smoker standing on top of a building. He gasped as he knew that if he missed his shot he would be as good as dead. He spun around aiming. The smoker's tongue shot towards him. He cheered as he nailed the smoker and the tongue stopped falling down limp. He sighed in relief. He walked over to a building in a safe area and leaned up against it. Sliding down he sat down on the ground and pulled out his journal. He dug through his backpack and found a can of food he forgot he had. He opened the can and poured some of the food into his mouth. He grabbed his pencil and started writing.

It's my first day writing in a journal, let's hope this goes well. To anyone that's reading this, Hi I'm Nadwe, most likely a previous survivor if you found this book. It must mean that I've died, or lost the book. However if you don't know what's going on or have never seen a special infected in your life. I'm here to help!

Nadwe sighed after he finished writing that. He grabbed his can of food and finished it off, he threw the can, it hit a nearby wall and clinked as it hit the ground. He heard a growl and glanced around, not seeing any infected. He turned back to his notebook and continued to write.

There are a few types of infected. The special infected, the common, and the uncommon. The special infected are powerful by themselves. The common and uncommon are decently easy to deal with unless it's a horde. Don't be loud and you won't have to deal with hordes.

He took a deep breath, another growl echoed nearby. He slid his notebook into his backpack and stood up. Glancing around not seeing anything. He slipped on his backpack and pulled out his katana. The world seemed to hold its breath. Nadwe glanced around. He could hear footsteps nearby. He turned next to the dark alley he was standing next to. He yelped as bright yellow eyes stared back at him. He felt his katana drop from his hands.

"W-who's there?" He stuttered. He couldn't keep the fear out of his voice. A low growl came from the person and Nadwe took a step back. The person stopped growling, a wheezing replaced it. It was one of those wheezing fits that happened when you were having a hard time breathing. "Are you alright?" Nadwe asked cautiously. Taking a step forward.
"Nadwe?" The voice managed out, it was a mangled sense of speech and was more of a growl.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" Nadwe asked dumbfounded.

"Run, please." The person begged. Nadwe took a step back once more he then took another. "I really.." The person paused to cough. "Really, don't want to hurt you." He whispered. The voice growing quieter. Nadwe took a few steps back and turned around and ran. He kept running. He panted as the wind whipped at his face. He wasn't watching where he was going and ran into something.

"Oh my god Nadwe, we've been worried sick about you!" A heavily accented voice exclaimed. Nadwe looked up to see Joocie standing behind Nadwe looking down at him with joy in his eyes. Nadwe gave him a weak smile and hugged Joocie.

"Where have you been?" Someone else asked, Nadwe glanced to see who it was and saw it was a tired looking Meme. "I got lost." Nadwe admitted.

"At Least you're alright." Meme sighed. Even though, Nadwe was far from alright.

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