The Zombie Apocalypse with MCR (Complete)

First Impressions

Now that the immediate danger has passed and I've stopped for a moment to assess, I find my arm is hurting like a bitch. Heat and agony wash all down my left side. The muscles in my bicep, forearm, and chest tingle like static on a TV screen. My fingertips go numb.

"Dammit." I mutter, and try to flex my left hand. It does as it's told, but when I try to move my arm, it rebels. Pain lances down my side, and I hunch over, groaning quietly.

"Hey, hey." There's a hand on my back, steadying me. "You okay?"

It's the American. Frank. I jerk my shoulder and that throws his hand off. When I level a fierce glare, he backs off with his hands raised.

"Sorry, I just-" He frowns, "You're hurt."

"I'll live." I grunt, and stand. He moves to follow, but I shove him back to his knees. Can't have him stumbling after me in the dark, especially since there's still fifty corpses lurching past the windows, snuffling at the air for whiffs of human.

We've got to move, and fast. They'll sniff us out soon enough.

Thankfully, shops always have a back door. I find it when I duck into the back room where they keep the stock. A metal door leads out to a long, concrete corridor. Must be for staff and deliveries.

I fetch the group. Order them to stay low and quiet. There's a dangerous moment when Alissa whirls too quickly, knocking a cup off a table. Frank lunges, landing hard on his stomach with a quiet grunt, but he manages to catch it.

"Still think I'm a fucking idiot?" He asks casually as he scoots into the concrete corridor.

I close the door after Pandora's bushy tail has cleared the gap. "I'm still undecided." I say, with a sweep of narrowed eyes. He snorts.

The corridor is lit with low yellow lights running along the ceiling. I suppose they'll stay on until they burn out.

Alissa goes to slump over her knees.

"Get up." I snap viciously, "You think we're fucking clear of this mess? We keep moving. Now."

"Which way?" The big guy with the big hair looks left and right.

I whistle to Pandora. She pauses, swinging in both directions. Nose high in the air and tail down. She whines when she faces the right. "We go right."

"Wait, hang on a second!" A hand snags my elbow, the left one, and I stumble back with a quickly smothered howl of pain. I lash out blindly, and catch Frank in the ribs. He grunts under the blow and staggers backwards into the bigger guy.

"Nevaeh!" Alissa hisses, and smacks me in the chest. "Don't be so mean!"

"Let's all just calm down." The big guy says. He's holding onto Frank's arms, looking cautiously at me. He's frowning like I'm a child he doesn't approve of.

"I didn't mean to grab you like that," Frank says, straightening. "I'm sorry." At these words, the big guy throws such a look of surprise at his companion that I almost laugh. "But I would like to ask a question that I think is perfectly reasonable."

"I didn't mean to punch you," I reply, as calmly as I can around the pain in my arm. "Go ahead with your question."

"I notice you didn't apologise to me," He says, and his eyebrows flick upwards. "That's fine. We can work on that." I have to choke back my laugh, because I don't want to encourage him. "Not that she's not the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, but I'd like to ask why we're trusting the decision of a dog?"

I purse my lips at him, annoyed. "She has something like 300 million ordorant receptors in her nose. We have around 6 million. The part of her brain that analyses scents is also 40 times greater than ours. Quite simply, she can smell fresh air better than I can. Could we continue with running for our lives, or would you like to ask another question?"