~John~
I felt like my stomach was burning.
I bolt upright, and Rolcene was yelling, “It’s five forty-two! Wake up everyone! Kid zombies are everywhere!”
All I can ever say was, “Damn.”
After removing the sleep off my eyes, I quickly changed to my pants and a shirt I found unused on one closet. It’s far too large, and it looked like my sweater. I dart outside, and I see about ten people swatting something moving fast with brooms and metal mops.
“The hell, John! Help them!” Rolcene suddenly barked from my behind. He was pushing me, and my legs stay stiff on the doorstep, my hands free from anything. I returned inside and found the Scythe sitting about five meters away from where I slept.
It was still dark, and the air tasted chaotic and depraved; fire was breaking out of nowhere, making the air much more acrid because of the smoke. I step out of the safe haven, and my eyes focus on one boy that was carrying a rod. Seconds later, I found myself running towards him.
“No, John!” he warns.
Three seconds next, my left ear got scrubbed off hearing as an explosion boomed so loud and hard the ground gave a tremor.
“I want to help,” I said to James. After the billowing smoke sets itself off, I see a mountain of rubble. My best friend had just blown off a classroom for preschoolers.
He sees my Scythe of Fire, and he stares at it maliciously.
“Go to the truck,” James ordered. “They’ll need you more there than we do here.”
I see Jules far from us. He was slashing some dark figures I can’t make of, but they were small and fast, so fast they looked like a blur.
“What are those?” I asked.
But he wasn’t eager to answer any more of my questions. He was pushing me away already. “It’s the preschoolers, John. They were infected. They came at about four.”
“The truck’s broken?”
He looked at me disdainfully. “Go! I told you go! Help the others! Find that Carson boy! Shit!”
Before I see red veins form in his face and neck, I sprint away from him. That instant, I hear another deafening explosion. That was the Zeus’ Bolt and its utmost power. The ground was shaking every time I hear that same boom, and I almost stumbled down while running.
What I hate about this time was that when everything turns quiet for a while, it was always followed by something gruesome.
That’s what they call calm before the storm.
I stopped dead when I see someone standing two meters from me. The smog covered his face completely, but his hands weren’t empty, though. I then hear a chainsaw going to life.
“John! That’s a Mutated one!” yells Jules from nowhere.
I don’t know what to make up from him, but when I lost my focus, the entity stepped closer. He’s looking human, complete with four limbs and one head, but when I felt the Scythe heating up and it glowed with light, I shine light around me.
A grown-up man wearing his usual blue collared maintenance uniform was heading closer to me. The whirring of the chainsaw grows louder than the thump of my heart, and I see he wasn’t normal. Or alive. His uniform was bloody, and on the part where his appendix should have been, I see a gaping wound.
He was near enough. I see his face now.
Faintly, but I was sure I see green veins protruding from his face like they were about to bulge and break free from his cheeks. His pupil was bloodred, and they were observing me stonely. His lips were purple and dry, blood dripping from the corners.
He must be the Mutated one Jules warned me about.
I hear shrieks everywhere, and I got a bad feeling more zombies are approaching. Metal screeching was common too; I even hear desperate yells and groans of living people.
The chainsaw was hacked at me. If I didn’t stagger to my left, I will probably had my whole right arm chopped off. I stood up straight, and tried on attacking with my newfound weapon, but the zombie wasn’t stupid enough now to let himself damaged. He dodged my attack.
What the hell is wrong with this zombie? No, I don’t think he no longer deserved the term. He went on for an attack, and almost got my calf. He was scowling when I evaded him for the second time, and I thought he’ll speak something, but he was just frowning at me.
For another attack, he got a scratch on my left arm. Even though it was just a little wound, blood already sprouted on my loose shirt. The pain was blinding, and I felt my left arm was already dropping off my body.
With my Scythe growing so hot my palm almost burned, I rose and sliced on his leg.
That surely was painful. I wish I got his whole ankle and foot off, but my attempt was barely bearable. The Mutated one uttered a shrill howl, drowning the sound of approaching, excited zombies. From the gash I made, I hear flesh sizzling with blood.
His chainsaw spun back to life again, the long blade seems so go more rapid. Unexpectedly, he kicked me on my left side, and I fell on hard ground.
It ruined my balance; I wanted to stand up again, but a handful of force pinned my head crashing back to the dirty gravel. I felt a striking pain behind my head, and before I can even stand up again on my own will, a boot sent my torso flat on the floor again.
I felt like my heart was skipping its beats. The infected man’s form was complete, and I see hungry and evil grin from his face, his hands bearing the chainsaw so alive. I felt air passing on top of my head, and I swear it was a zombie so fast—I hear it growl when it passed by me.
The boot was getting heavier, and I can’t breathe. With his bloodred eyes examining me, if I can ever escape his dirty foot, he looked at me evillishly.
He whirled the chainsaw down, and I looked away. I don’t want to get my face discombobulated.
Goodbye, world. Please forget all bad things I did before I’ll die.
Then…
YOU ARE READING
Last Dawn of a Horde
Teen FictionThere are two things we were absolutely afraid of: Getting killed by the dead, and getting killed by the living. All we have to do is to choose. I am John. Friends are my greatest strength. As long as they live, my life's eternally happy. I am James...
