Word Count: 1,373
Sometimes....
I wish the zombie apocalypse would happen...
Because I think I could make it.
And I think I could save you.
“ ‘You’re crazy, Jason.’ she had said when I told her that. Then she kissed me, for the first time, and told me that’s why she loved me.”
The muscular black man’s face showed in the candlelight. With his black haired goatee and stern face, he listened to Jason intently. Only Jason’s features were shown in the dim candle’s illumination as well. His long brown hair covered his green eyes almost entirely. They shined with tears.
“Listen, bro.” The black man said after a long pause. “We all lost something from this, but we still have our lives. I lost my wife and kids. I know what it feels like, but don’t do anything stupid. We’re in this together and we have to stick together through this.”
“You’re right. Brock... I know. I just wish I could’ve.... done something.”
“Me too man. Me too.” Brock replied.
Jason decided he’d change the subject. “Do you think the army is looking for survivors?”
“I don’t know. I certainly hope they’d look for us-“
“Hey, shut the fuck up, I’m trying to fucking sleep.” came a voice from the darkness.
“Piss off, Mark.” Brock said to the darkness.
“You piss off, we all know the army’s left us for dead.” Mark replied. “We’re on our own and that means we need sleep.” Brock just shook his head and turned back to the candle.
“Are you alright on your own for watch? Mark’s right about sleep.”
Jason nodded and waved Brock away with the small black glock in his hand. Brock stood and walked into the darkness. When Jason heard the rustling of Brock’s sleeping bag, he drew himself into thought to pass his watch time. The likelihood of anything finding them inside this warehouse were slim, and even so, the three had barricaded the doors fairly well with objects from inside the warehouse. Furniture, mostly.
Jason’s thoughts remained on his girlfriend and the fate that had came to her. He remembered it all too well...
“Jason, the barricade!” she had yelled to him. But when he turned around, he saw the wood shattering, hearing her scream and fall with the corpse of a tall grey man on top of her. Her shoulder was being torn apart by this man’s mouth. She screamed, it stuck in his head. He ran to her, kicked the undead bastard in the face but he knew it was too late for his beloved.
Tears welled up in Jason’s eyes as he remembered the conversation.
“Go without me...” she said. “It’s too late. But always remember. I love you.”
“I love you too...” Jason said, bringing the glock to her forehead. He turned away, hesitated, but finally pulled the trigger.
And then he began to cry. He was silent, letting the sound of his teardrops overthrow his sobs. He looked at his pistol in the soft light through the shield of tears and thought about what he could do. He didn’t know what waited after life, but he thought... maybe he could be with her. Maybe she wanted that.
“Pull the trigger and the nightmare stops...” he said to himself in a whisper. But then he’d be leaving Brock and Mark, regardless of how much of a douche Mark was. He didn’t want to leave Brock with Mark anyway. But god, it was so hard. He wasn’t even guaranteed a way to live.
“Hey...” came Brock’s voice suddenly. He appeared in the candlelight and Jason lowered the gun quickly.
“Brock... what’re you doing up?” Jason asked, trying to be casual.
“I heard something outside. It might just me being paranoid but I think we should take a look or something.”
“Shouldn’t we wake Mark?”
“No, he needs his sleep. Who knows, it might not even be a big deal.”
“Alright...” Jason was left with a strange feeling in his stomach as he stood, taking the candle in one hand. Brock led the way to the edge of the tin wall where a pile of chairs, couches and beds stacked against the wall. Behind the large barricade sat a door and behind that was something attempting to get in.
“Shit...” Brock said, turning to Jason. “One of them knows we’re in here. They’ll be more soon...”
As if to underline his statement, another pair of arms hit the door. Jason’s heart began to pound faster, and the small source of moonlight dipping through the large overhead window told him it was still dark. Too dark to travel.
“Brock, go wake Mark up. I’ll stay here and listen in case it’s not what we think it is...” Jason put his ear up against the wall, hoping he could hear a living person instead of a reanimated, moaning corpse. He heard feet dash away, and then he listened. All he heard was the moaning and hungering of every corpse out there, which seemed to have grown to a large number. Jason heard the beatings grow louder, stronger. Then the crack of the door beneath the barricade split, cracked, shattered.
“Brock, Mark, Take the other barricade down, we need to get out of here!” Jason yelled. No reply. “Brock? Mark? Hey!”
Jason caught a glimpse of something dart through the darkness. It was too fast to be a zombie... so what could it have been?
“Brock...?” Jason called out again. “Brock, where are you?”
The barricade shifted, the moans were louder. Jason decided he would run, the candle still in his hand to light the way dimly. He dashed to the center of the warehouse, where he remembered Mark sleeping and found a bloody sleeping bag. Beside the sleeping bag lay a muscular black man. Brock.
“Oh my god, Brock!” Jason said, kneeling beside his friend. Brock’s throat was obliterated by claws.
“Ja-“ Brock said before choking on his own blood. He swallowed, more blood gushed from his wound. “Mark...” choking. “Bit-“ more choking. “Run.”
As he spoke his last words, something landed in front of Jason and stuck three sharp claws through Brock’s forehead. Jason looked up immediately and raised his glock to see Mark’s disfigured and mutated corpse. His eyes were slanted and red. His teeth were sharp and bloody, glimmering in the dark. On his arm pulsated a giant bubble of infection, probably where he was bitten. But he wasn’t like the others. He was fast.
Mark raised the corpse of Brock with its claws still pierced through his head. He held the head up to his mouth with a devilish grin. Jason was too frightened to move and too curious to shoot. The zombified Mark opened his mouth and let his salamander like tongue shoot through Brock’s skull and with a sickening slurp, he pulled pieces of grey brain matter from Brock’s head. Jason found the will to move, he turned around and ran as fast as he could. Even with adrenaline, however, the wraithlike Mark tackled him down. Jason felt the breathing on his neck, he struggled but Mark was too strong. Jason closed his eyes and waited for the end...
Shattering glass. A scream too inhuman and then a hail of bullets. Jason cried out with a dry throat when a bullet hit his leg, but found the strength to roll over and watch as countless soldiers stormed in and fired upon the black figure darting through the area. It eventually disappeared through a skylight.
A man dressed in green camo knelt by Brock’s body and dismissed it as dead. He then noticed the dim candle on the ground and the figure next to it.
“I think we have a survivor. Are you hurt son? Come on, we’re getting you out of this hellhole.”
Jason couldn’t speak. He couldn’t see. His wall of tears made things too blurry. But he didn’t mind. He was safe now.
Safe.
And they didn’t leave him
Left for Dead after all.
So like, if anybody reads this and they'd like to tell me how much you enjoyed/hated it, drop me a PM.
Danke
