Stuff I wrote for school!

Aug. 17th starter

Zak sprinted through the crumbling cities, his dark and usually fluffy hair was flattened by sweat from the hot atmosphere. The sun beamed down on his neck, covered by a bandana he found abandoned in a mall, wrecked by zombies and other survivors who had ransacked the place in search of materials.

Zak heard the groans of zombies behind him, their grotesque smell reaching his nose. He pushes himself harder, feeling the pain in his legs as he runs harder and faster than he has in a long time. Zak usually avoids zombies at all cost, his handgun and pocket knife doesn't work too well against a horde of zombies he learned.

Zak felt his shoe collide with something, he gasped in surprise. The ground gets closer to his face, and he falls. Hitting the concrete with a quiet thud and an oof from pain.

Zak pushes himself up, ignoring the stinging from his now cut-up arms. He heard and smelt the zombies nearing him. His heart rate sped up, and he could feel himself shaking from the thought of turning into a mindless zombie. Walking the Earth with nothing on his mind other than eating.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Zak stopped, turning around with a confused expression. The zombies that were chasing him, now lay lifeless on the ground. Blood pooled around them, the metallic smell mixing with the smell of rotten flesh and gunpowder.

Standing a few feet away from the dead (or more dead?) zombies was a guy.

He had a black hoodie on, the hood over his head, and a striped scarf hiding the bottom half of his face. He faced Zak, pointing the gun from the zombies to Zak.

Zak held his scuffed hands up, struggling to stop shaking "Don't shoot." He said, his eyes are wide and more alert now. "Please,"

"Why shouldn't I?" the man asked, tightening his grip on the gun "What makes you think I should trust you?"

"Because I-" Zak started, but then paused. He looked away from the man and at the crumbling building instead "You shouldn't."

The man moved his hand away from the trigger, pointing the gun at the ground "No...no one has ever answered that question honestly." He said slowly, the stress in his eyes slowly leaving.

Zak slowly put his hands down, staring at the man. "You can't trust anyone in this world."

The man nodded, putting his gun in a holster on his belt. "Yeah."

Zak smiled at the man, "I'm Zak,"

"Nice to meet you, Zak," The man beamed, the sudden change in his mood shocked Zak to a fault. "I'm Darrel."

"Can we trust each other?" Zak asked, using his hand to push back his hair from his face.

"Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to survive," Darrel said, his voice monotone, "So no, we can't. Maybe one day we can though?"

"Maybe one day."

The two boys smiled at each other, a sense of agreement passing through the two of them.