Trump Daddy Saves the World

Chapter Six

The winds were harsh upon his bright orange skin, cooling the dry leather, even through the menial clothing layers he had managed to scrape up from what he had in his hotel room.

Trump stood in the open window of his hotel room, looking down at the long drop. It was still dark out, nothing but trees and the parking lot below. All was quiet in the night, save for the sounds of crickets.

It was ominous. Too ominous. He could either stay there in his hotel room, rotting away, hoping for the off-chance that someone would remember him and come save him, or he could take his chances climbing the small window ledges, and get to the private airport.

He didn't even know how he would maneuver the plane---but it was one step at a time.

He shuffled forward on his window ledge.

The winds whipped around harder, tussling his thin yellow hair.

"I just gotta do it." He muttered to himself. But still, no matter how long he stared at the drop below him, it did not seem to grow smaller.

Instead, it looked like it was growing larger, the gap widening, everything growing larger and larger in his awful predicament of the world coming to a fucking end.

His orange knuckles became white from how hard he gripped the ledge, trying his hardest to stay perched in the window and not be dragged down to an unfortunate death. 

Slowly but surely he started climbing down, groaning and moaning to himself about Ron, about the hotel room, about how Alaska was, "The safest fucking place in the world."

Obviously, it was not. Obviously the virus had found ways to spread, and now he had no clue where to go, how much it had spread, or who was even left.

He should've gone to an island, like Hawaii or something. At least if the power went out there, he could be relaxing on the beach sipping from coconuts. But no, he was in the bitter cold, his fingertips growing numb, on the third floor climbing down a fucking window ledge, in butt-fucking Alaska. 

"The damn liberals. It's all their fucking faults." He muttered to himself bitterly. "Some fucking whacko crayon-head decided they wanted some organic and that they wanted to save the planet and now here we are with zombies. Let's let the foreigners in, my ass."

Was he even making sense anymore? Not really. But his incomprehensible muttering about liberals did help him reach the second floor, his fingers and thighs----everything quivering from the exertion he had not done in nearly forty years.

"When everything gets back to normal, I'm joining the fucking gym." He decided.

But the little voice in the back of his head, the one that had more common sense than any other atom in his body, started whispering to him.

If everything gets back to normal. Which it probably won't. We're all doomed. Rob's dead, people are getting eaten, and you're stuck scaling a hotel.

"Shut up." He grumbled.

He groaned out as he pulled himself over the ledge of the second floor's balcony, his back thumping onto the hard floor, expelling all the air out of him with an oomph.

He waited, breathing in and out, giving himself time to catch his breath, his eyes staring up at the night sky in the dark.

Then he looked to the balcony doors. He sure hoped it wasn't locked, because then he would be forced to crawl to the first floor, and he was sure he would end up falling off the balcony that time, and probably break a limb or something.

And even though everything was quiet, there was no knowing what he would come across on ground level, either. 

If Rob was bitten chances were that the employees were bitten too.

And who knows what was in the hotel room next to him. He brought his head to the glass, cupping his eyes, trying his best to see through the dark. 

He could faintly see the outline of a scuffed up bed, the sheets thrown around everywhere and a random remote laying on the floor, and---

---and eyes were staring back at him through the glass, large and bulging and un-dead.

Trump jumped in his own skin, veering his head back harshly from the glass, a shriek half coming out of his throat. It was the shriek that fully alerted the zombie, his jaws snapping open, its body ramming into the glass that separated them.

________

Author's Note: 

GUESS WHO FINALLY HAS THEIR CHROMEBOOK??? MEEEEEE!!

Eeeek--I'm so excited!! 

So here y'all go: a new fucking chapter.

It's alright. There's probably gonna be WAY more typos than normal because I'm typing fast on a laptop. Just let me know where they're at and I'll fix em.

Til next time. 

(I might be doing more writing while I'm at work).