The choppy groans and coughs crescendo. The hoard draws closer with every leap I take. In practiced ease, I slip off the belt from around my chest and onto my right shoulder. The trustworthy rifle vibrates forcefully in my hands as I pull the trigger. Another round shoots into the mass whose floppy hands reach out to grab my collar and squish me to death in a hearty embrace. Bodies of ripped clothes, bloody hands and disgusted, pale skin reverberate like a standing ovation. I grin cheekily, giving myself a mental high five. I rock this game of "The Walking Dead 2.0".
Just then a familiar click sounds and I freeze in motion, fumbling for the rounds stacked safe in the little pocket on my belt. I slip back the safeguard - empty. Shit. At least the temporary frying pan weapon still works or else - the blinking on my arm distracts me. My smart watch just lost contact with the receiver of the weapon located on the top of the nereby building.
"FUCK," I belt out, startling the craws gnawing on a pile of flesh next to the parking lot of my former elementary school. A parking lot. THE CAR! The screams growing closer and more unruly by the second, I throw away the empty rifle and bolt for the blackened windows. The gas of my joker should about suffice. My hand clasps the door handle whileas the window slowly descends. "Get in."
Rotten black teeth point the smelliest grin ever at me and I blink. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." A zombie with the coolest sunglasses in town just reved the engine of my only way of escape. Who knew they could break in and steal your car? Screw that gelled-back, mud-covered hair could talk??
With a resigned sigh I take times staring at my ride or die and the masses stumbling over the border stone of the parking lot, their moans sounding like the laughter of sea-gulls in the evening breeze. They knew, one hundred percent, that they had cornered their prey. They could tell they won. I round the car in a swift motion, open the passenger seats door and slip into the devil's Jaguar. "I assume you got a driver's licence?"
Another wide, toothy and utterly disgusting grin greets me. "Let's find out," he cryptically utters before reverting. Crushing bones under the weight of at least two tons fill the air while split fingernails nastily claw at the rear trunk and windows. The engine roars. Severed bodily parts fly through the air, the moment my savior puts in the third gear and dashes into the crowd that by now surrounds us on every side. Blood splashes onto the windshield and in a matter of habit I push down the right hand gear, activating the windscreen wipers. We squish through bodies pressing against our windows, being twisted by the sheer force of our tempo or snap underneath our wheels.
"Seems we made it through the worst," he comments dryly, his eyes trained on the road ahead. The density of undead bodies, standing side by side, remarkably thins out. I breathe a sigh of relief as we leave the commotion behind. A soft rain had started trickling down the ruby-colored car windows as I pull out the gun from the inside of my heavy military boots and after cocking it, level the death bringer with my compainions head. "So, tell me. Why haven't you killed me yet?"
In suffocating silence every insignificant thing grows so much louder. The intensifying rain patting the metal in a caress. The soft humming of the engine slowly and steadily running out of fuel. My right hand clenching and unclenching its fist, the fingers moving up and downwards periodically, the perfect picture of restlessness. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. Roaming deserted streets under the soundtrack of distant growls of unsatisfied demand, I had adressed the elefant in the room. All of a sudden a chuckle rings in the air and I nearly pull the trigger, being thrown back in my seat. Having stomped onto the brakes this hard intentionally, ice blue eyes come to face me, mocking the distrust mirrored on my face. "May I?", he smiles smugly at my apparent confusion and pulls of a mask, revealing ruffled medium-long, basic brown hair and healthy skin. "I've always loved Wallmart," he concludes.
Speechless I stare at the handsome young man, racking my brain. "I'm one of you. You can stop being all Big Boss on me now," he raises an eyebrow at my gun, still aiming at his forehead. "I don't believe you," I squint my eyes and shake the protruding black hair out of my face. The had-been-a-zombie-one-minute-ago sighs in annoyance and waves a hand in front of his face. "Suit yourself," he rolls his eyes giving me a pointed stare. "Alright, alright, what's your story?", I give in, uncocking the gun and shoving it back into its hiding place.
"I used to study medicine at this prestigious university out of state," he begins, his eyes trained on the road, "you know. Before the testing began. I was just back in Nevada for Christmas to see my lil' bro-" I nod in understanding, painful memories tearing at the rim of my vision. "So, I hid in Walmart watching their awakening. I don't know who opened the door, but then they were in. I hid. Yet, then it hit me - pretending to be one of them to uncover their secrets. Don't they do stuff like that in movies?" I cringe. "Of course, it failed and I got stuck in this car for a while now."
I gave him a look. "Your car, sorry." I shook my head. "Now I have to kill you for knowing where I keep my secret gun," I joke, giving my new friend a light shove. Thick wire appeared in front of our eyes and a grin spread on my face.
"Welcome home, buddy."
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Shards of Moonlight || A Short-story Collection
Short StoryHey readers, this book will consist of short stories I compile from different competitions or write for pure fun. I even started collecting prompts I wrote or beginnings of books. It helps me track my progress and I would love for it to be entertain...
