Agent 174

Manners

"Wake up Archer. Babe, Rose is waiting. We're gonna see your mom today remember? Wake up." I jump up from sleep, gasping for air. I reach for my gun, but it isn't there. Sylvia is nowhere in sight, but I swear I heard her voice. As if to haunt me, I remember all of the night before. The most prominent memory was realising the death of everyone I knew. I get up and walk to the bar, grabbing bottles of beer and ale and stuffing them in my bag. I look around for my gun, not being able to find it anywhere.

  "Looking for this? You really should keep tabs on your guns. They keep you alive ya know." Alexa throws me my gun. She walks out from the bar bathroom and grabs her bag, heading towards the door. She tears down the barricade and checks outside to see the weather.

  "We moving out soon?" I say tiredly

  "Yeah, stay ready. Five minutes before we get kinetic." Alexa says strictly and firm.

  Alexa runs to the back where she hid the Husks and grabbed something as I finish grabbing my gear and waiting at the door. I find and old crank powered radio and attatch it to my bag. I also found a box of bullets for my new toy, a Winchester lever action repeater rifle. On the stock was an engraving. 'Manners Maketh Man'. I strap my pistol on my holster and carry my newfound friend with love. I had a passion for guns, although I didn't let it show. But I guess none of that mattered now, so why not.

  "If you wanted another gun, we can look for something more.... I don't know..... Modern? Just because the garbage looks brand new, doesn't mean you need to take it ya know." Alexa retorts. Something tells me that this time, she wasn't joking. I guess some people just can't love a classic.

As we head back out the cold really hits us. Winter was coming back around. Just my luck, couldn't my coma have lasted a little longer? Nevertheless we carry on. As we approach the inner city, Alexa motions that we need to be completely silent. I decide to look at My new rifle closer. It was a Model 1873 that used .44-40 cartridges as ammunition. Luckily I had enough to last me a while. The bartender had good taste and a good mind to carry that much ammo. Its stock and grip were made of Ivory, where as the rest was titanium, with the exception of the lever and some metal brackets being polished gold. A masterpiece like this needed a name. "...Sylvia..." I mutter. Alexa stops and socks me in the arm

"Shut up dumbass, wait until we get to a safe location. Now keep moving soldier." She says in a whisper. We get to a large skyscraper in the middle of the downtown area and walk inside. There was still power, somehow. I press the elevator button and the elevator starts moving down. What I didn't think about was how empty the lobby was and how most of the windows were smashed. Once the elevator hit the lobby floor, the ding noise of the elevator made a VERY loud echo, like a terrible dinner bell. Alexa slaps me on the back of the head. "You dipshit! Get in the elevator, NOW!" As we rush into the elevator We can see the horde of Husks sprinting at frightening speeds towards us. In a panic, I frantically press the close button on the elevator doors. Alexa reaches into her bag and grabs what looks like a handmade bomb. "Pipe bomb going out! Danger close! Stand by!" She presses a button and throws the explosive stick into the horde. A pinging noise is repeated off the bomb and seems to attract and distract the horde for just enough time for the elevator doors to close and the Husks to forget about us and to start eating their dead brethren.

  I press a button leading us to the seventh floor and we start moving up, rather slow at that. Now that there's room for a breather, I take a deep breath and look at Alexa. Understandably, she looks pretty pissed. She looks back at me and gives me a glare of death. "Listen up... We need to talk... I gotta set some stuff straight. We find a room that looks half decent, and secure it. Then we talk. Pistols drawn as soon as that door opens just in case. Let's go." The doors open and we hop out the elevator guns drawn. No Husks in sight.