The walls were sturdy, doors locked and the roof was neither leaking nor caving in so as long as the building remained standing she was safe. However that didn't stop the beasts from clawing at the iron paneling searching for their prey, it also didn't stop her from dying of starvation, thirst or illness.
'13:00' her watch read as she sat huddled in the corner, knife in one hand, flashlight in the other. Her stomach gurgled, her throat and lips dry and cracked. Sweat clung to her clothes, running in rivers down her back.
A noise drew her attention to the door. A thump and a bang, not usual sounds of the walking dead. Voices echoed into the metal room.
"You know the routine, Hutch!" A lady, Texan by accent
"take out the danger, check for survivors, then look for supplies" The response sounded, a man, Californian, his deep voice vibrated loudly inside the small dark room. A pause, a sigh then footsteps.
Three loud knocks filled the dead space. "Excuse me!" The man began again "If anyone is in there please open the door!"
She tried to call out, no words came, her voice disappeared from lack of use. She stood on shaky limbs and stumbled to the door, she fumbled with the lock. The metal bit into the inside of her palm leaving a jagged cut which oozed blood. Yanking the door open she looked the man named Hutch dead in the eye.
"Holy damn" was the last thing she heard before promptly passing out.
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Life Line
HorrorPost apocalyptic life always seemed easy in the movies. When a mysterious plague takes over the Western Hemisphere which turns normal people into crazed cannibals, civilians need to rely on their knowledge of cheesy films to survive. How hard can it...
