SCAVENGERS

Prologue

Somewhere in North Florida 

        Ew ew ew. 

        The squelch of brain matter against newly impaled cranium still left the girl with her stomach in knots and taste of pennies in her mouth. The blade needed to come out, regardless of her dimming queasiness. 

        It was near dark, far off clouds already coming up over the horizon and shutting out the last rays of an already dusty sunset. The girl needed to find shelter. And fast. Another night in this place would do her no good, with radiation still present even after a year and at least three storm systems passing through. 

        Jogging up the now clear ramp into the trailer, the girl carefully avoided the now fully deceased zombies leaking tarrish blood, ink black with a green gleam like motor oil, from where her blade cut through. A quick glance through the small window set into the metal door showed it was clear of the living and the living dead, if not depressingly bare of anything useful. 

        At least the door isn't locked. 

        As it swung outward, the girl raised her sword, her hand beginning to ache from the uncomfortable grip. She shuffled into the room, eyes scanning for any danger. The simple trailer was empty, thankfully, save for a lone filing cabinet and an overturned desk. 

        No windows either. 

        She propped her sword against the wall, intent on cleaning it later, and ran out to grab her backpack from where she had dropped it near the base of the ramp. The girl couldn't move as swiftly with it on her back and it only took one zombie to end everything. 

        Gunshots and revving engines startled her into stillness, listening hard. 

        "Savengers." She whispered to herself, "Couple of streets away. Not too close but close enough." She sniffled and wiped blindly at her nose, hoping she wasn't coming down with a cold. 

        On her way back inside she took a moment to hack off the hand of the nearest zombie with her serrated boot knife, a kick making sure it was totally and completely dead, holding the dripping end away from her as she wiped the blade on the corpse's tattered shirt. She dropped her bag just inside the threshold, tucking the knife back into her boot, and with a steady hand used the bloody stump to paint the small window set into the door. The tacky blood congealed almost instantly on the smooth surface. No light would escape and give away her position.  

        As more gunshots echoed against the abandoned construction site, the girl quickly hurled the hand back towards the mound of bodies and closed to door behind her, fingers searching for the catch.  

        The click of the lock did nothing to ease her mind. The girl reached into her pack, courtesy of an Army surplus just outside the ghost town, and came away with a small flashlight. She stood, sniffled yet again, clicking the flashlight on and holding it between her lips. 

        Doors open outward here... A regular barricade won't work but- 

        She lifted the edge of the desk lengthwise and walked it over to the door, propping it flush against the metal. The cabinet proved harder to move but after some sweat and cursing it to hell and back, she leaned it against the desk as counterweight. If it didn't stop anyone from entering, at least it would make enough noise to wake her. 

        The taste of metal in her mouth was becoming tiresome as the girl quickly wiped her sword down with some paper from the stack of files she'd had no choice but remove from the filing cabinet. 

        Have to add more push-ups in the mornings. 

        Wiping again at her nose, she was startled at the pain and looked down to find her own blood staining her sleeve. She had to get out to the Graveyards, soon, or she would die. 

        The girl propped herself against the far wall using her bag as a cushion, the door in her line of sight and her father's cutlass and her empty Baretta within easy reach, eating her last piece of jerky before turning in. She would have to hunt tomorrow, as much as she disliked the gamey taste of squirrel.  

        She rubbed her nose again, unsuccessfully ignoring the new red stain, and tilted her head back hoping for sleep soon. 

        I've gotta make it to the Graveyards. Doesn't sound much better than this but it's all I've got.