Short Stories

Stupid Jumpsuit

A/N: This is the result of watching Misfits and The Walking Dead in the same day.

Stupid Jumpsuit:

Debris scattered the ground. The sun peeked from the tall buildings and pressed against her skin. A knife clutched in her palm as she continued forward, cautious of where she stepped.

            Her head pounded in pain, the brightness of the sun made her squint. Then she heard a gurgle a few feet behind her. Her heart thudded against her chest. She spun around to find three walkers sluggishly following her.

            Hyped up on adrenaline she ran forward and thrust her knife into the nearest ones skull, causing it to crumple to the ground. She quickly stabbed the other one in the neck, the blood spewing out and splattered on her shirt. The final one she slit its throat, the blood sprayed across her face.

            The stench of the blood then suddenly overpowered her, causing her to gag. Turning away from the scene and walking a few steps forward. Her head pounded again, she dropped to her knees and puked stomach acid.

            Tears glazed her eyes, one managed to trickle down her face. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her breathing shaky and hollow.

            “Hey!”

            She flinched at the voice. She looked up to find a figure in the distance. She couldn’t distinguish the gender, but it didn’t matter. They were making noise. Walkers would flock like birds to it. Taking a deep breath she pushed herself up to her feet and walked toward the person as efficiently as she could, which wasn’t that efficient.

            She stumbled slightly, but managed to keep her balance. She saw a bright orange jumpsuit in the distance. She blinked a couple times to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. She wasn’t.

            “Hey!” the voice yelled again, she cringed. At this rate the walkers would be here any minute. With her remaining strength she moved as fast as she could, when she was close enough she pushed him up against a nearby wall with her knife at his throat. He, jumpsuit was a he.

            “Stop yelling,” she hissed through grit teeth. His breath caught in his throat, hands up in surrender. He started to talk, frantic, but she couldn’t process the words. Everything blurred, as a sudden ringing invaded her ears. She shut her eyes tight as the world began to tilt.

            “Walkers!” jumpsuit yelled.

            As if that triggered her senses back she removed the knife from his throat and decapitated the five walkers that surrounded them. Blood poured from their rotten bodies, it staining her hands. She looked around, all of the sudden her vision in focus. From what she could tell there were no more, which surprised her greatly. She looked back at jumpsuit to find his mouth open slightly agape. Blood sprinkled on his clothes and face. Hands still up in surrender.

            She pointed her knife to him. “You’re welcome,” she murmured, her body language all of the sudden sluggish. Before he could respond she tripped toward the wall and puked again. The spoiled smell invaded her nostrils.

            She coughed, her breathing wheezy and shallow.

            She felt drained and weak, her body weight suddenly too much to carry. “Oh, shit,” jumpsuit murmured. She could barely hear him, her eyes set on the brick wall she was leaning on.

            Knife still in hand she pushed herself off, now her equilibrium off, and somehow managed to slip it in her holder on the first try. She felt dizzy; she soon felt an arm of support. She leaned against the body, fighting to stay conscious.  

            Her splitting headache then rushed in at full force, she gasped in pain and stumbled to the side.

            She heard someone mumble something but she couldn’t understand what. All that she knew was she was aimlessly staggering forward.

            Then a gush of cool air attacked her body, the shock of it almost made her fall. She opened her eyes to see she was inside, it was dark, the windows were blocked with wood and blankets. No light shone through.

            Her support then gently laid her down. Her eyes shut.

She blinked. She was on a mattress, a light blanket over her, and a cloth on her forehead. Her body was sore and weak, the weight underneath her eyelids still prominent. She turned to her side, curled into a ball. Her eyes looked around to find soft streams of light shining through a blanket. It was daytime.

             She tried to think of her last memory. That stupid jumpsuit yelling, was what she came up with.

            “Oh, you’re awake.”

            Her eyes darted to the source. Jumpsuit.

            She didn’t respond.

            He crouched down; she immediately fumbled for her knife. She grabbed the handle and pointed the tip at him.

            His eyes widened slightly. He slowly put the can down and raised his hands up in surrender. He was smiling. “Didn’t know we had a murderer on our hands.” She cocked her head. “Who’s we?” she demanded, her voice rough. Her head darted around the building. “Where am I?”

            “Safe,” said another voice.

            She was so frightened that she almost threw the knife at the source. She turned to find an older man with silver streaks in his beard. The hair on his head thinning. He was dressed in a brown blazer and dark jeans with pointed shoes.

            “Who are you?” she asked.

            “I could ask you the same question,” said the older man.

            “She saved my life,” Jumpsuit interjected.

            The older man rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you couldn’t come back,” he mumbled under his breath. “Ow,” jumpsuit gasped in mock hurt, a hand pressed on his chest, “that hurt.”

            Old man rubbed his eyes. “What’s your name, kid?” he asked, his attention shifting back to her. Jumpsuit scoffed. “She’s barely a kid, look at her!” She ignored his comment, “Cody,” she answered.

            Silence lingered for a moment before jumpsuit picked up the can again, motioning it toward her.

            She took it hesitantly, staring at both of them skeptically. The tension ate the silence. “It’s not like we poisoned it.” Jumpsuit said. With that he got up, taking Old Man by the shoulder and leading him away from her. Talking with an absurd amount of hand gestures, saying who knows what.

            “Well, thanks,” she muttered under her breath.