𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 | 𝘤. 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴

fourteen. burning away

"Don't you think I'd be using it?" I said in a panicked manner.

His head turned in multiple directions, forcefully planting his legs down for a moment, and pointing. "Over there. We can make it in, if we hurry."

I looked to the group of closely connecting institutional buildings, then pushed forward towards the closest side door. Noah attempted to use his remaining strength to open it, regardless, it had been locked from the inside.

"I'll find something." I said, watching the boy slam his shoulder into the door.

"We got about thirty seconds before those rotters catch up." He twisted his head to the oncoming, growing group of the dead just down the street.

"Keep trying the door." I told him, descending down the steps, and running towards the main entrance.

The glass doors made it extremely easy to tell it had been barricaded high with objects, impossible to enter in this amount of time we spared. A PVC pipe was placed between the handles on the outside, locking it from both ways.

Whatever was secured in the building, was better than being unsecured out here.

I turned at the sound of a shout, my eyes traveling to the boy who was pushing back a walker, the rest not far behind. I grasped the plastic pipe which held the outside handles together, making my way back to the side of the building.

"Over here!" I shouted, clinging the pipe along a metal drainage line.

The dead turned their attention to such a foreign noise, just enough time to overhead toss the pipe to Noah, allowing him to hit it into the door with blunt force, and push it open.

I led myself backwards slowly, egging on the walkers, although not all of them followed, leaving a few for Noah. I carefully footed each step, making little error through the sloped grassland. Noah then entered the door at last, fighting to keep it open, but have the few roamers on his end stay out.

"I cant hold it open much longer!" He alerted me.

I scanned past the dozen walkers nearing closer with my taunting, through a gap I was planning on running through, near the sides.

"Come on!" Noah shouted, struggling to keep it steady.

Despite my effort to get past the crowd closing in, I was caught extremely off guard when a body impacted against my back, bringing me down to the ground.

A shout escaped me as I wiggled from the dead's grasp, attempting to twist and kick it backwards, though it grabbed my boots, aiming to bite through the weakened leather. I grasped my fingers onto the grass, pulling myself away from the group that now kneeled at me, gathering round with extending hands, and unforgiving dull faces.

In this exact moment, It all made sense to die in my very spot. I would be back, but not the same. I'd come back wrong, like the people who I had caused this same fate for. Snapping jaws, hunger churning their insides. It was the price for resurrection.

I found myself bringing my body upwards, set forward in motion through an area of vacancy, glancing to the door Noah had been able to open.

Except for all that, It was closed. The door was shut, two of the dead left banging up against it.

My lungs burned, my heartbeat thumping in my throat, and crawling into my head. As I had no other choice, I ran with the last of my stamina for the opposing building, struggling with the doors, then eventually getting them open with much effort, closing them.