Adam's POV
I press into the brick wall behind me, straining to see through the mist. I squint my eyes. The door should be directly across the courtyard, but if there are any zombies out there....
It's been 7 days since we left. We had searched for Mitch in the beginning, but eventually just knocked it off from top priority. So, now we're roaming around LA killing zombies and looting houses. Fun.
I make my decision. I raise my hand and wave it, then start crouch-walking across the courtyard. The fog settles around us unnaturally, but I can still tell that the guys are behind me.
I finger my machete uneasily. Seems like there should be at least a few zombies. Finally, to my relief, I stop at the door and stand up, waiting. The other guys join me one by one, until Ian comes out of the fog and picks the lock on the door.
It creaks open, and we all step into the dusty entrance hall. It feels like all my senses are supercharged. I scan the area, then listen for footsteps. I move forward and check for spores, then give the all clear.
"Alright. Looks good."
They all disperse and start rummaging. I turn to Ian and grin. "See? No problem."
He frowns. "Are you sure there aren't spores? Jason's finally stopped throwing up, and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't want to start again."
I wince, remembering how sick Jason was when he inhaled just a few spores. Any more and he probably would've died.
"I don't think there are any. Just looks pretty dusty."
Ian shrugs, still unsure, then goes and joins Ty as he goes through the kitchen.
I huff, then turn and go upstairs. I stop for a moment at the top, looking for an attic. Attics normally have the best stuff in them. My eyes come to a stop on a trapdoor in the ceiling. Bingo.
I pull it down with a lot of dust, and heave myself up. A light hangs above me, and I turn it on. As the light illuminates the attic, I see several things that might be of interest. First off, three .22s lay on the shelf directly to my left. I pick one of them up and dust it off. Doesn't seem in bad condition. I grab the other two.
I set off in pursuit of the second thing, which was ammo. Sure enough, some boxes of ammo are also present in the attic. I scoop them into my bag. Have to check with Ian on what kinds of guns will take it.
Finally, I head over to the far end of the attic. I shove a few boxes aside, and then grin. Whoever these people were, they were ready for this kind of thing. Laying on a bottom shelf are 5 backpacks, all packed to straining point with survival items. I sit down and pull one to me, and unzip it.
A rain coat comes out first, followed by a thin sleeping bag. I pull out a small first aid kit, fully stocked with antiseptic, Motrin, bandages, gauze, scissors, and a syringe. A canteen comes out next. I set it aside and pull out three hunting knives. I examine them for a moment, then stop. I reach into the very bottom of the bag, and draw out a handgun.
Why the heck wouldn't the people who lived here take these? These bags are gonna be so helpful. I gather everything into my arms, then walk over and kick open the trapdoor. Lowering the loot down safely first, I swing down.
I head down stairs, struggling under the weight.
"Guys! Come here!"
They all join me in the living room, just as shocked as I am that all this stuff was just lying around.
They present their finds, which consist of knives, some medicine, food and water, and some clothing items.
We split up the clothes, discussing about who should get what, considering our clothes are all dirty and ripped. In the end, I get a new flannel shirt and shoes. I slide them on.
After that, the knives and guns are distributed to those who don't have them. Ian, Quentin, and Ryan take the three 22s I found, so Ty, Jason, and I take backpacks with handguns. Ian and Ryan grab the other two.
We all stand up in silent agreement. The door opens easily again, and we step into the courtyard. As Ian locks the door behind us, I see something I didn't notice before because of the mist. Pinned to the wall of the building, is a poster.
On that poster, is a picture of Jerome. Blindfolded, tied to a chair with his shoulder bent awkwardly, but still Jerome.
I move closer to it, trying to make out the writing under it.
NAME
Jerome
DESCRIPTION
Medium height, skinny, short blond hair.
CAPTURED
LA City Airport
RECEIVE
Come to 43 Gradu Rd. on the 27th.
COST
Negotiated at Meeting Area
My eyes widen in shock as I read it. The 27th. That's three days away. As I finish reading it, I call out to everyone.
"It's Jerome! He's Alive!"
YOU ARE READING
Run. (Team Crafted Fanfiction)
FanfictionOne night. That is all it can take to change everything. For Team Crafted, that one night contained a zombie apocalypse. Forced to leave their house to find missing friends, the Team learns how to survive in a completely new and brutal way. But wil...
