layla miller
I kept trying to call Blaire's phone, but it didn't pick up. I told the guys, and they just kept sitting at the table. Jack had his head in his hands. I sighed.
Suddenly, there was a loud squeal and a crash. We all shot out heads to the window and ran up to it. Someone had swerved and crashed. Me and Asher looked at each other and ran out the front door, flying down the steps to the lobby. I pushed open the double doors and heard the car alarm going off, saw it smoking. The car had flipped over. I gasped, staring for a few seconds. I saw someone digging around in the trunk, and I rushed over to help them.
"Oh, my god. Are you okay?" I asked. I took another step. They didn't hear me. I put my hand on their shoulder; it felt cold. "Hello? Sir, are you—" I gasped. The man groaned and looked at me, and I immediately stepped back, stumbling. Asher caught me, but we both stared at the man.
"Holy crap," He breathed. The man was a pale blue, with veins threatening to pop out all over his face. His pupils were a faded white. I gasped and stood up, grabbed Asher's arm, and we ran back inside.
"What? Are they okay?" Jack asked, following us in confusion.
"Get back to the apartment," Asher said, running up the stairs, "We'll explain in a second."
carson stewart
I laid back on my bed and shut my eyes. My head hurt. I always got migraines, frequently lately. I didn't mind it too much, I was used to it. I heard a car alarm in the distance and opened my eyes. I sat up and looked at my clock. I hadn't fallen asleep, and it was already one in the morning. I wondered if anyone else was awake. I stood up and walked out to my living room, the dark blue light of the moon shining through the blinds. I heard someone moving around in the hallway, but I didn't bother giving it a second thought. I walked around the kitchen for a bit, unsure what to do. There was a sudden knock at the door, and I looked up. I ambled over to the door, unhooking the chain. My hand hovered over the lock. Something told me to look through the peephole before unlocking the door. I moved my hand away from the doorknob and peered into the peephole.
I didn't have to look twice to know what it was; I had prepared myself. I knew it would come.
Last time, the apocalypse spread like a thunderstorm. Like a bad mood. I figured it was the same this year. I guessed the apocalypse had only started ten minutes or so, and already half the city was probably infected.
I swung open the door and grabbed Becky's wrist, pulling her into my apartment. I locked the door behind her and heard the zombie run into it and start banging on the door. I took a few steps back, keeping my eye on the door for good measure. Then I looked back at Becky.
"Are you okay?" I asked her in a raspy voice. I hadn't talked much—at all. "You didn't get bit?"
Becky blinked at me and shook her head. "No—no, I'm okay." We both looked back at the door for a few seconds. The banging had stopped. I looked back at her, even when she was still looking at the door. I looked at her for a minute, when a smile curled onto my lips.
"I know a way we can get through this—it's called an antihypertensive drug. It basically made me immune to the virus last time."
She finally looked back at me. She raised an eyebrow. "Where can I find this...immunity drug?"
blaire collins
It was stress relieving. You know, killing the zombies. Running them over. But it also lured hundreds of them my way, so I ditched the buggati. I walked for a bit, down the path of a dirt road. I kept tripping over my plaid pajama pants, which irritated me. As soon as I got to the city, I was going to go to my apartment to change. But the city was miles away.
I reached a small town—by small, I mean one street filled with shops. I stopped at the entrance. The place was probably leaking zombies, the undead creeping around every corner. I passed a pizzeria and found myself stopping in front of a thrift shop—I looked down at my plaid pajamas once, then pushed the door open.
The shop was abandoned; no zombies, thank God, but no humans, either. I didn't react. I glanced around and started looking through racks.
I found a pair of black, ripped jeans—they were a bit baggy, but I found a belt that would work just nicely. I also grabbed a black tank top, slightly laced—and a brown flannel. My converse were just fine; I'd be able to run in them. I changed, using the dressing room even though nobody was around.
I looked around one last time, grabbing a beige beanie and a bigger bag at the last minute, and stuffed it in my bag.
I stepped outside of the shop. I started walking forward, when I ran into something and almost tripped. I looked to my side and grinned; it was a bike rack. I looked around again, checking for zombies. None. I pulled the bike out of the rack and tested it. It was the perfect size; lucky, too—it was the only bike there.
A bike was perfect; no complicated computers that could short circuit, no gas tank that could run out at any moment; bikes are quiet, too. There's a less likely chance of zombies finding me if I'm quiet.
I rode to a few more shops, not getting anything else. I adjusted my bag, when I heard something come over the hill. It was a car. I gasped, ducking behind a fake shrub. It was Charlie. I gulped. He definitely saw me. The car continued pulling forward slowly, until it stopped. I held my breath. I heard a car door slam, and I heard footsteps approach. He was cursing under his breath. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and straightened up on my bike. The fence was taller, but I could see Charlie making his way across the road.
I have to admit, the guy isn't very fast. He didn't have any weapons on him. I took this as an opportunity to press hard on the bike pedal and ride fast. I heard him yell behind me, but I left him in the dust. I smirked. If he still thought he could catch me now, he could turn his car right around.
YOU ARE READING
a day undead
HorrorWhere did it start? Where did they come from? What happened? Five different classmates are forced to work together as, possibly, the last living beings around. But it's not just zombies. They fight their feelings, fight with each other *COUGH BLAIRE...