A Collection of Short Stories

Prologue

The following piece of work is a prologue for a book in a series I'm writing with my two good friends, Lilith Gaskarth (GoodnightBrightside) and Danny Schaffer (NaturallyDan). If you like it, please let me know! The books are still being written, so nothing in this prologue is set in stone. If you have any feedback or suggestions after reading it, please let me know. And I will let you all know when more of the story is available for you guys and where you can find it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    The gunfire. The bobbing flashlight beams peeking in under the locked door. The growls. The screams. God, the screams. In the midst of all the chaos, I could still hear the sirens that would never be turned off. The chief of security had waited too long to sound the alarms, and thus we were trapped. If he'd gotten his damn head out of the clouds sooner and seen that we could not possibly wait this one out, the whole town could've been halfway to the next outpost by now instead of doomed to be eaten alive or worse. But he did not get his damn head out of the clouds, and we were not halfway to the next outpost. We were surrounded on all sides by a herd that had broken in hours ago, and they were taking their sweet time picking us off. We were all doomed to rot here as piles of flesh or walking corpses, all to the cacophonous melody of the eternally singing emergency alarm system. A woman's frantic voice came from just outside the closet door, trying to talk to someone else. I didn't recognize her voice, but I was so damn glad to hear someone else still alive. I did not have time to react before I heard the low growls and snarls approaching. It took them too long to hear them, to notice they were being closed in on. The protests ran in to the cries for help, which ran into the bloodcurdling screams, which ended in silence. I covered my ears and clenched my eyes shut, curling further into a ball on the floor. It had all happened too fast; there was nothing I could do.

    Still, I couldn't help thinking that I could've done something — that I should've done something. I'd heard the zombies moving in, I could've warned them, I could've said something, they could've gotten away — but the words got caught in my throat, and now two more people were dead, while I was safely trapped in my closet with an undead guard at the door. I halfway wished they would break through and find me. It would be quicker than starving to death while slowly going insane. Two gunshots rang out through the hall, and the chewing sounds finally stopped. Someone banged on the door, and a familiar voice spoke. "Ash, open the door."

    "What took you so long? You've been gone forever."

    "I know, I'm sorry. The west wing was swarmed, so I had to find a detour. Here, I got — hey, have you been crying?" James asked, brushing my hair back.

    "I thought you weren't coming back, and those... those... They were right outside the door, and they killed them, and I, I just —" Tears welled up in my eyes as I buried my face in his chest to try and hide them.

    "Hey, come on. You're gonna be fine," he said as he pulled me into him, "everything's gonna be fine."

    I took a deep breathe and peeked over his shoulders at the monsters lying montionless behind us. "Are they dead?"

    He turned around to look with me, "yeah... yeah, I think."

    "What about them?" I asked, nodding to their victims, "are they... will they..."

    "Probably. I don't know how long until they come back, so we should get out of here. Come on."

    "James, we can't leave them like that," I said.

    "Ash, I don't like it, either, but I can't spare the bullets. The armory was locked. I only have what I had on me from the range," he said.

    "James, please," I pleaded.