The warehouse was a cold, dark place. We'd patched up the broken windows with some planks we found lying around, and secured the rest of the building. Everything seemed well. Amy had made some torches for light as we try to get the power on, and Jim and I go around setting up traps at the entrances.
There were actually some pretty useful things here. It looks like we'd picked an old distribution center. While plenty of this stuff had been looted by robbers, or made a home by some sort of critter. There was still plenty of supplies we could use. Bobby had taken the remaining plywood and a rope ladder to make platforms up in the rafters, where people could hide if something went wrong. We'd also found some old cots in a break room, and they were now set up up top.
****
I'm taking a nap up in the rafters, my watch shift being later on, and I wanted to have full energy. I hear a loud crash as something hits the roof, and I quickly get up, grabbing the axe and a pistol we'd taken from the gun shop. Finding the nearest roof access panel, I open it, wait for a few others, and go up to investigate.
A large, army looking helicopter had crashed. Its passenger area was open slightly, and there were zombies pouring out. "Idiotic government," I say, and then open fire casually walking towards the zombies. "Try not to shoot. Find other ways to brain 'em" I say, as I grab one wearing an avaitor's outfit- the pilot maybe?- by the shoulder, and push him headfirst over the edge of the roof. I toss the axe into another, and it falls.
Bobby swings a wooden plank, knocking another in the head. Jim opens fire with his shotgun. "JIM YOU RETARD I TOLD YOU NOT TO DO THAT! SAVE THE DAMN AMMO!"
"I do what I want, I'm the leader of this group," He replies, continuing to shoot at the zombies. Bobby, Abbie and I all just facepalm, then continue to throw zombies down. We finally get the roof cleared, and go to examine the helicopter. I take my knife, and use it to unscrew the turret. I remove it, and hand it to the others. There isn't much else we can use, so I pocket my knife, and head back for the rafters.
****
"Looks like the military won't be a help any time soon. Morons," I say, pacing through the aisles, my rifle slung over my shoulder.
YOU ARE READING
The Need for Survival
ActionThis is my first attempt at writing Anything outside of school. In this story, Richard and his friends are taken on a very challenging journey.What starts out as a regular campout, becomes a struggle for survival.
