Z-Nation Imagines

Longshot

I take a deep breath in, locking onto my target through my scope. A deer grazes about 200 yards away, head down as it munches on something off the ground I move my finger to the trigger and am exhaling, preparing to shoot my dinner, when I hear it.

Shuffling, footsteps running haggardly. Nasty snarls from Zs. My head snaps toward the sound, and my face breaks into a deep scowl. So much for dinner.

I sling my rifle around my back and pull myself further into the tree, concealing myself in the leaves and branches. My scope moves back to my eye and I see that, about 50 yards away, a boy about my age with dark hair and a bandanna around his head clutches his side, stumbling away from a group of 8 zombies. He is dirty and wearing what looks like blue coveralls. My first reaction to this sight is irritation. Come on, man, you really had to lead them this way, to me? You've survived four years during the apocalypse. There shouldn't be any problem getting away from the Zs by now. I know I've had plenty of practice, anyway.

I figure I should help this poor boy. It'd be a shame to let someone so attractive get torn apart by zombies. He looks pretty injured. I move the sights to a Zs head and exhale as I pull the trigger. Its head explodes into red goo. The boy's eyes widen and snap around at the sound and he looks around for the culprit. I rack the bolt, and three more Zs drop thanks to my rifle, and he appears to find the energy to pull one hand from his bloody side and pike two Zs with a knife.

I dispatch the last of the zombies, then sling the rifle back and drop from branch to branch, finally reaching the ground seconds later. I break into a light jog and stop when I reach the boy. He is immediately on his guard and readies his knife for a fight with the stranger in front of him.

"I'm not here to hurt you. I would have let the Zs get you if I wanted you dead". He relaxes a bit and shakes his head, looking at me in amazement. His eyes are wide again, and I can see now they are a beautiful, clear green-blue.

"Yeah, thanks for that", he huffs, face contorting a little in pain.

"You're hurt. Let me help, I've got medical supplies at my camp. Follow me", I begin to walk back to my tree, where all my supplies are and a small smile graces my face when I hear his hesitant step fall into place beside me. I haven't smiled for 4 years, and worry briefly my face will shatter at the unfamiliar motion.

"So how did you get all the way out here, anyway? With a gunshot wound and a group of Zs snapping at your heels, no less", I smirk at him. The 2nd time I've smiled in four years, and both times at this strange boy. I must be lonelier than I realized.

"It's...kind of a long story". He stops as we reach the tree. I give him a leg up onto the lowest branch, and we slowly (and painfully, for him) make our way to where my pack is tied to the trunk, sitting on a wide branch.

"I'm Longshot. What should I call you, zombie bait?", I tease.

"10k." I nod and hold my hand out to 10k and he grasps it in his own, shaking it lightly.

"Pleasure to meet you, 10k. Now let's get you fixed up before you get an infection or lose any more blood."

As I clean him up, stitching his side, I feel at peace. We sit on this branch, this stranger and I, high up in a tree, and even though it's the zombie apocalypse and he is injured and probably on the run from someone, I feel less alone and scared than I have in a long time.