𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

15. Chicken Wings.

F I F T E E N
Chicken Wings.

Henry said the Infected got pushed deeper into the tunnels, further than we went. Underneath our feet is where they were driven into. Grouping together. Mutating or fucking or whatever the hell they do in their spare time.

It's all bubbling over.

It's like a stampede, it's not one by one, they all come at once in a wave, snarling and screeching. They climb over each other, they don't give a fuck about anything but killing. And they'll do anything for that.

The second they reach the surface gunshots begin sounding so often it sounds like one continuous noise.

There are too many of them, not enough bullets and nowhere near enough people.

The guards hold them back, but it won't be for long, they'll gain ground as another one gets killed.

Henry takes the distraction to run back behind the car.

I take deep breaths, I need to not freak out, and I need to think clearly and quickly.

A smack shakes the car, one of the Infected leaps onto the car, ready to jump down onto us, but its body hits the bonnet before it can.

"Move!" I shout, pushing everyone to go, following behind.

Infected are everywhere, nearly impossible to avoid, I dodge and weave keeping my arms in front of me so nothing can grab them. My good arm clutching my bad as the pain gets worse, the second I stop using it it'll calm down. Hopefully.

All my mind can think about is not being torn to shreds, because that's what they seem to be doing, tearing people to shreds. Not a simple, polite bite and move on, they're ripping throats out and de-gutting people.

Something grabs my ankle, I try and shake it off, but looking down I see it's a person, an Infected clawing at their stomach. He looks desperate, like I can do anything to help him. The hand loosens quickly, and I can shake it off with ease, I see the person go pale. Even if I did stop and help he's still fucked.

Not even a shred of me wants to help. I just want to get the fuck out alive. Everyone here was going to mount my head on a stick.

I don't know where anyone is, I can't see Sam, Henry, Ellie, or Joel. Some of my mind focuses on that, but there's no point finding them if I'm dead, so the majority is focusing on keeping me alive.

Sitting on the ground is a knife, hardly slowing down I pick it up.

A shot hits a few feet behind me, I glance over my shoulder, an Infected, inches away from grabbing me hits the floor.

My lungs burn, I hear the engines of cars turn on. They plough over Infected and people alike, everyone is focused on both killing and staying alive. Everyone's forgotten about us.

Who gives a fuck about Henry when your arm is being eaten like a chicken wing.

My grip on the knife in my hand loosens as I hear a growl, the ground shaking again. The crater's flow of Infected slowed down, but something crawls out, slowly, its large body doesn't move anywhere near as quickly as normal Infected. Its size compromised its agility.

Its entire body is consumed by cordyceps, looking like a wart would if it were a person. Scaley and evil. It doesn't screech, it produces a rumble that you can feel in your bones. It bounces at a different frequency.

It roars. Bullet after bullet hits it, but it doesn't seem to move. Using its fist it slams fully grown men to the ground like they're made of paper.

A hand grabs my wrist and I thrash, turning around with my knife to stab the brain before it bites me.