I kick a bushel of thorns out of the way, spotting a walker ahead. I hold the blade of the knife like my brother had taught me and aimed right at its head. I swiftly throw it, landing the blade right in the walker's right ear. He falls to the mossy, green ground with a thud.
I crouch and cautiously walk ahead, retreaving my knife. Glancing all around, I see no walker insight. Then I steady myself to run. "BLANE!" I shout through my cold, cupped hands. My voice is alone, no response. I begin walking, knowing for sure that I've attracted more infected..maybe rotters.
I've been walking and calling for almost half an hour now. What if he's dead?
Wait, why am I worried so much anyway? Maybe because I just don't want to see any more people dead?
Snapped twigs ahead catch my eye, alerting me. I but my hand over the branch, seeing a speck of blood on it. The tree is on top of a drop, so I peer down the slanted edge. My heartbeat quickens and my eyes widen, seeing him sprawled out on the ground below. An arrow is stuck in his side, causing blood to spurt out.
"Blane?" I call through the cupping of my palms. No answer, yupp. He's unconscious.
I sit on a soft patch of earth and grab the trunk of a thin, slender tree and slide down the pile of leaves as I notice a rotter emerging from some trees twenty ft from Blane.
My eyes widen as I slowly climb to my feet, stumbling a few steps. It was so dark - the only light I had was the faint flicker of my torch. My toe hits a thick root sticking from the dirt, tripping me in the process. I catch myself with my hands but slide down. I close my eyes as I roll down the slope, not that it'd make any difference in terms of lighting.
Suddenly, a hard object rams into my side. My eyes flutter open as I notice a tree blocking the path. I shake my head around to clear my vision and let reality kick back in.
With a few more steps, I am at the bottom and in knee-deep water. The rotter I saw earlier collapses onto Blane, grabbing his rubber combat boot and gnawing on it like a puppy on a chew toy.
"Hey, ugly!" I yell and his head snaps up and glares at me. I look down at my hand and see that my knife is gone. I quickly reach into my purse as the dead trudges towards me. I pull out my pistol and raise it above my head. The back of the weapon hits the zombie right in his temple. Brown blood squirts out, alongside a revolting stench. His knees buckle down when I hit him again. I hit him three more times in the back of the head, until he goes limp.
YOU ARE READING
Apocalypse
ActionShe has to survive. She isn't like any other girl - doesn't care how she looks, doesn't paint her nails..instead, the only thing she paints is death with the blood of the zombies which have been multiplying in her city. It's the beginning of the end...