Flash Fiction Month 2016

Day 11: Horror (TLOU)

Pain lanced through Ellie's skull as she crashed to the ground, her head smacking concrete. Light seared her vision and for a few seconds her hearing deadened. When it returned, the cries of the undead were louder than ever.
She moaned quietly, scrabbled at the ground, trying to find something she could use to level herself upright. Her grazed fingers reached up, and found a car bumper.
Grunting with the effort, she dragged herself to her feet, leaning heavily on the car's smashed bonnet. She could barely see, hardly stand, but she hadn't survived this long by giving in to pain and weakness.
She listened, grateful for one reliable sense; the sounds of Clickers - it had to be Clickers, didn't it? - were behind her, to the left.
Well, at least that was good news. Their temporary camp was a little ways down the street, away from the Infected that had been following her.
Ellie started moving again, careful to take slow steps, double checking where she put her feet. If she so much as kicked a stone, she was as good as dead.
Hot blood was dribbling down her face, gathering at her chin and falling in thick drops.
Ellie was no stranger to blood; it ran in her veins, after all, and she'd scraped her knees and smacked her head enough to know when an injury was bad.
She didn't need Joel to tell her that this was bad.
Every step was a stumble. She must've looked drunk, staggering down the deserted street while Infected prowled behind her. She felt drunk, dammit. Dizzy, nauseous, hardly balanced enough to keep herself upright.
Just a little farther, she urged herself. Just a little farther.
A delapidated wall rose up on her left, and she paused, leaning against it for a few seconds. Unconciousness threatened to drag her into darkness, but Ellie fought it back. Plenty of time for that later, when she was safe.
She pushed away from the wall and kept walking, but let her hand trail along the surface, guiding her way. Her fingers snagged on a jutting brick.
She pulled her hand away, but too late. The brick toppled from the wall, landing on the ground with a dull thunk.
Ellie started running.
The sharp, gutteral screeches of the Clickers rose behind her, triumphant in their tone. Ellie could hear them running, sprinting for the source of the sound.
She tripped over something, staggered badly, and just barely managed to regain her feet. She was almost blind, the street made of pulsating blurs and fragments in her vision. Her final obstacle was a chainlink fence, topped with barbed wire. Specifically put up to keep the Infected out, before the government abandonned this zone. She had wedged open the rusty door in the fence with a crowbar. If she could make it through that door, she'd be safe.
Panic was rising in her throat as she neared the fence. The Clickers were right on her heels, she could hear them. Unbidden, her imagination conjured images of gnarled, fungal hands clawing for her as she ran, horrid mushroom-like faces with teeth lunging to tear out her throat -
Ellie tripped again, and this time she fell.
She sprawled against the foot of the fence, the chainlink rattling and chinking above her.
Adrenaline powered her forwards. She clambered through the narrow opening of the door, dragging herself on her belly.
A hand closed around her ankle.
Another, and a third, snatched at her feet and legs, grabbing her ragged jeans and snagging fingers in her shoelaces. More hands joined them, and she kicked and struggled as they dragged her backwards. Ellie Williams was not going to die without a fight.
She reached for the gun tucked into her waistband, intent on blowing the heads off the ugly monsters, but another hand got there first, digging ragged fingernails into her wrist.
In a desperate final attempt, Ellie caught hold of the fence, tried to pull herself free. Hot, rancid breath was beating on the back of her neck.
Three sharp gunshots rang out.
The breath vanished, replaced by a heavy spatter of something thick and warm that stuck to her skin.
There were screeches of rage and pain as more gunshots sounded. A strong hand fastened around Ellie's wrist and dragged her through to the safe side of the fence. There was a mighty rattling clang as the crowbar was pulled free and the door slammed closed. There was more rattling as the crowbar was replaced, this time jamming the door closed.
"Ellie."
Ellie stirred as she was lifted to her feet by mercifully human hands.
"Ellie."
Her vision was swooping, but Ellie could make out Joel's weathered face looking down at her.
"Good timing," she muttered, leaning against his chest.
Despite the danger of the situation, Joel chuckled.
"Only just, baby girl, only just."
Ellie smiled. The Infected were only a fence away, but with Joel, she felt safe. Joel and Tannis, her only friends in this ravaged world.
Tannis...
"Where's Tannis?" she asked, lifting her head.
Joel's face - an eternal mask of worry - became concerned. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, his eyes glinted with fear.
"I thought she was with you."