REPOSTED ON MY PROFILE.
Matthew hears the man's voice on the radio and knows he has to get to that boat. Months out in the wilderness and on the run, he's sure this is his only - and perhaps last - chance. The girl in the mall might change his mind.
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There wasn't a door but a big hole in the wall. It probably closed at some point, maybe like a garage door would, but now it stood open - the mouth of a giant housing a couple smashed hauling trucks and a swarm of the undead.
Matthew ignored them in his mad dash for safety. The zombies at his back were more of a concern. The pain in his chest, legs, and side were even more of a concern. He needed to get up and out and he needed that yesterday.
There was a ramp, which led to a walkway, which led to another hole in the wall, which was probably where Matthew needed to get but that was blocked by one of the crashed semi-trucks. He skipped past it unable to stop or think beyond the move right in front of him. Any pause - thinking, breathing, planning, anything - allows the zombies to advance. To close the distance between themselves and their prey.
Matthew passed the truck, passed the ramp. His eyes followed the ramp up to the walkway and had a thought. Without time to consider the thought and its consequences he plowed forward. Succeed or fail his next step would depend on how fast or slow the zombies reacted.
Matthew, very briefly, went through a phase in his life were he was sure that his future was professional skateboarding. He grew out his hair, attempted to popularize the term 'radical', and attempted a lot of parkour. There was very little skateboarding involved. He was just as bad at it as he was parkour. He hadn't been very successful.
This time it was success or dead.
Matthew ignored the zombies approaching from his sides and ran into the wall foot first. He used the momentum to push up with his feet and grab the walkway railing. The icy metal stung his tender hands but he pulled and kicked and was very surprised when he went up and over the bars on the first try.
He was not surprised when he hit the ground face first.
There had been greater - worse- opportunities to mess up so Matthew accepted the failure with grace.
Thankfully, the zombies didn't possess the mental faculties to understand the architecture of a ramp so they gathered around the spot where he jumped over and snarled up at him.
Matthew peered at them from above. He was tempted to gloat, oh so tempted, but there was no time. Noise, they were making too much noise and there would be more of them walkway side.
Matthew rolled away from the edge, onto his back. He sat up. Stared at the entryway right there several feet away. He just had to make it to the end of the walkway.
He rose to his feet, surprised to see that he did have the ability to get back up and start again. Everything still hurt. His face, his chest, his body, his lungs, legs, and side. He couldn't catch his breath. His face burned and he was pouring sweat from his hair. He held onto the railing, chest heaving, as he prepared to make what was going to be his last dash.
He sucked in one last breath and took off.
He didn't make it three steps before something snagged his hood and yanked. He didn't have the time or breath to scream. The surprise stole his wind. He could only grab at air as he was flung backwards.
