OUTBREAK (A collection of Zombie Stories) |#Wattys2016|

SANCTUARY (#1)

The walkie-talkie buzzed with static and a voice came through: 'We've got three people making a beeline for the outer gates. Man and a woman. Look to be in their forties, and they have a kid with them. Looks like the kid's injured her hand. They've got twenty Zombies on their backs.'. A hand picked up the walkie-talkie and spoke in a southern accent, "Let them in. Keep 'em behind the second wall. I'm on my way. The person clipped the walkie-talkie to his belt and straightened his clothes. He walked up to an M16A2 assault rifle, (Obtained courtesy of the military) and exited the room.

The person walked down a dimly lit corridor with a dark green carpet covering the floor and cream colored walls. He looked out of the window and saw the two walls. The two walls holding this place together. The first was made out of solid brick and concrete, with metal soundproofing devices installed above the wall. The walls themselves were eight feet tall, with the sound-proofers adding another four feet. The second wall was a ten-foot tall chain-link fence complete with barbed wire on the top. The walls had two gates in two cardinal directions: North and south. The outer gates were robust, made of thick steel and the inside gates were made of chain-link. It was a good defense, but its height also made surveillance a pain. Luckily, the military had been gracious enough to leave behind hastily made guard towers which helped a lot in keeping the place safe, and looking out for any big herds, or – in this case – survivors.

Beyond the walls was a dilapidated city. A city that had seen much, held up under much pressure only to buckle at the end. Now, its broken streets hosted swarms of Zombies. Both large and small. This was the only safe place in the entire city...

"The Sanctuary"

The man made his way down to the ground floor, meeting with his fellow survivors on the way. There were only six of them altogether, a number which was depressingly low. But they managed to scrape by, and the Sanctuary sure did make their job easier.

The man opened the iron double-doors leading out of the Sanctuary and was immediately bombarded by the sun's heat. He shielded his eyes from the sun's rays as he made his way to the guard tower from where his friend had radioed in.

The man reached the gate. He saw his friend in the military tower, his rifle honed in on the three people standing in front of them. His friend had been right. A man, a woman holding up a child of about fourteen years of age. The child was badly hurt and barely conscious, her sleeve drenched in blood. The adults, who he assumed were her parents had desperate looks in their eyes, as if this place, and these people were their last hope. The man spoke, "We-we need help. Our daughter got a bad cut" The mother pulled up the daughter's sleeve to reveal a deep gash on her left arm, extending from her wrist to her elbow. "We don't have any medical supplies and-" He cut the man off, pointing his gun in their direction. The parents tensed up, and the mother said, "there's no need for any violence..."

"How many Zombies have you killed?" He asked. The parents seemed perplexed by this question. The father said, "W-we just need to treat out daughter's wound and a safe pla-"

"How many Zombies have you killed?" He asked again, his voice like steel. The parents complied and the father said, "around, five or ten." "How many people have you killed?" "Who do you take us for?" Began the mother, "Why would we-" "Just answer the damn question!" He said. "None." Said the father. "Why?" "Because we're calm-minded, rational humans, who don't want to hurt anyone." The mother replied without hesitation.