** PREVIOUSLY A FEATURED HORROR STORY**
The dead have risen. You wake up in the middle of this violent, rotting new world. The putrid stench of carnage is in the air. You flip on the news to learn that dead people are coming back and cannibalizing e...
"We can't leave him behind," you say. Not only is he good at downing those things, but he's also a human being - a member of a dying race (as of today). And even if he is rude, you'd never leave him at the hands of the undead. "Don't you have a saying, no soldier left behind?"
"Not my division," he says solemnly, "our motto is continue the mission at all costs." He starts walking.
His words jar you. "So...we're just going to leave him out here?" you say stubbornly.
"Look, this mission may save the world. Lawrence is like my brother, but he understands how dire our mission is," Quinn's voice is forceful and emotional. He's glaring off into the sunset, the last bit of light touching his dark cheek, and you can clearly see pain in his eyes.
You falter, realizing he really doesn't want to leave Lawrence behind, but just like he left his other fallen comrades, he has no other choice. Even though it feels wrong, you say, "I understand."
"He's no fool. He will catch up," Quinn mumbles. "I hope he does."
Oncoming groans of the undead alert you, cutting off the conversation. It sounds like a whole swarm of them -- much too many to take on for just two people. What's worse, the sunlight is fading fast. As you've just learned in the sewer, darkness will lend the undead an advantage. Rolls will reverse; you'll be as good as blind, while they'll be able to see you perfectly.
"Move," Quinn says.
You dash out of the street, trying to keep your footfalls light and swift. In front of you, Quinn dodges debris and a vehicle wrecked into a blue post box on the sidewalk. Both the hood and the driver door is open on the green sedan. The dented passenger door is closed, but the window is busted. He gives the inside a look as he passes, but doesn't comment. It makes you curious, so you glance in as you pass as well.
A little girl is in the passenger seat. Her small white face is ghastly, but peaceful. Her eyes and mouth are closed. You can't really pinpoint what killed her. She looks unmarked. The other side of the car, however, is another story. Bloody handprints scatter the whole driver's side, on the steering wheel, the open door, the console. From the size, you'd guess an adult female left the prints. Her mother perhaps.
As though the weight of your stare gave her life, little girl suddenly jerks awake. Her wide, cloudy eyes stare blankly, but she knows you're there. She's biting at the air, wild noises coming from her lips. A seatbelt keeps her firmly strapped in, but she's reaching toward you with her pale little fingers that defy logic to possess life. You gasp. Stepping back, you somehow manage to trip and fall on the sidewalk.
Quinn's silencer silences her just as the other undead come into sight. All the noise she'd been making was drawing the others right to you.
"Hurry," he whispers, and helps pull you up.
He's faster this time as he takes off, but just as light on his feet as he was before. Must be something he was trained for, you decide, because you're incapable of being soundless. Ahead, a flower shop's door stands wide open. Inviting. You both duck inside.
Right away, you know you aren't alone in the flower shop. Even the fragrance of hundreds of flowers isn't enough to mask the rot of flesh. A bell tinkles above the door as Quinn shuts and secures it. Your attention is elsewhere, however. Behind the counter stands a thin woman. Still wearing her bright green shop apron, splashed in blood, she zeroes in on your entrance. Her blonde hair is curled and pinned up, a few strands strategically hanging free around her oval face. Ruby red lipstick made her lips extra bright when compared with her pallor skin, and they part to let a groan out.
Another undead comes from the shadows and attacks Quinn before he can shoot the blonde. His gun clatters to the floor. You react fast, pulling your big hunting knife out of its holster. You're just about to slip in and stab a black-haired undead that has Quinn in its grasp, but the blonde one grabs you. The knife flies out of your hand. With the palm of your hand, you push her forehead and keep her from taking a chunk out of you with her teeth. Vases tumble off a shelf, shattering on the ground as you both struggle with the undead. The way you've got to maneuver to the side and keep her from biting you makes it hard for you to reach one of your weapons.
Stumbling, you bash the undead into a wall. She doesn't let go. It seems to make her more desperate for a bite of you. You spin with her, then slam her into the counter. Another vase full of an arrangement falls. Water and baby's breath flowers mingle on the floor with the broken glass. You grab at the counter for stability and get a handful of stems. Then you notice the huge pair of scissors beside the stems. Taking them firmly in your grip, you shove them into the foggy eye of the undead. She stops struggling and falls face first into a pile of bloody flowers on the counter. Petals fly upward, around her. You sigh in relief.
Quinn is laying on the floor, the other undead immobile on top of him. With a low grunt, he shoves her off him.
"You okay?" you ask.
He nods and stands up, crunching glass with his heavy combat boots. "They got the jump on us."
"Yeah. We should have been more careful."
"We'll be lucky if all that noise doesn't bring the horde out there down on us," he points out.
You peek out the blinds on the shop door. It's like a parade of the undead out there now. They're walking down the streets, wandering the sidewalks. You'll never be able to leave this flower shop at this rate. But you can't stay there long...
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Escape the Parade of the Undead - PLEASE SKIP TO CHAPTER 46
