Taylor is a college student home alone when the outbreak hits her small town. One minute she is working on a project, the next she is hiding away from the monsters outside. Taylor will have to find it in her to survive until her parents can -hopeful...
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Thirty. Thirty is the number we got to. I had to pull out the arrows from zombies heads, on lucky number thirty, it gave a loud squelching noise. That wouldn't have been bad, it was the fact that the firefighter closest to me had made a loud retching noise in reaction to it. How that out of everything got the hoard's attention I don't know.
It was a scene out of a horror movie when a large group turned their attention to us, like finally just seeing the fresh meat that's always been under their nose. They begin shambling towards us, the ones in the back following along after a moment. If they heard the noise I couldn't be sure. They just seemed to follow after one another. My heart feels like it drops down into my stomach.
An arrow finds its way into my bow and I let it fly, adrenaline now fueling my accuracy. My arrows fly as we back up.
"Greg, get your gun ready!" Hendrick yells it out, not bothering to be quiet anymore. Greg tosses his axe behind him, then his gun is out pointing ahead. Hendrick raises his axe as zombies stumble closer and closer, I tuck my bow onto my bag and unsnap my dad's pistol from my hip. "Headshots only, don't waste bullets."
The first gunshot from Greg is so loud it rattles me. Swallowing my hand trembles as I point my gun, hand under the butt of the gun to steady my aim. I don't take my first shot until I'm positive I'll get a headshot.
"Taylor, if you have to.." Hendricks starts, I just shake my head.
"I know!" I yell it out to be heard over the next shot Greg takes. Then one of the other men is letting out a war cry, an axe coming down in the crook of a zombie's shoulder and neck.
My stomach rolls when he pulls his axe out and blood goes flying in an arch.
I look around us, if things got to be overwhelming, I was supposed to run. I didn't want to leave them behind, but I also didn't want to get bit again. The first bit might have been my only second chance, I don't know if I'll be immune to every bite or not.
I continue to back up, fire a shot and look around as I move back. To my left, there's a large road, not the main one but one that crosses our main road. It's open and easy to see if there are zombies stumbling towards us, which there weren't. But to my right, there was a chunk of forest. And like every good horror movie, zombies stumble out of the forest, some closer to the church, behind us. I turn my gun to the ones to the right, popping off a shot toward the closest one.
Fucking shit, fuck, shit. Keeps repeating in my head as I line up another shot. The next one misses, hitting the zombie in the shoulder and it's thrown back. But it starts getting back up, arm hanging limp.
There's a loud gasp, not from the firefighters but back towards the church. My attention whips around to the front of the church, spotting a tween boy with wide eyes. I wanted to scream at him, why the fuck was he out here?!
I wasn't the only one who heard his gasp. The handful of zombies coming out of the forest heard the noise. They begin stumbling towards him and I don't think, I just react. I run, a sprint to him intercepting the zombies as they get within a few yards of him. Grabbing the frozen in place tween I shove him behind me, against the wall, and stand in front of him. I feel his trembling hands grip my shoulders, my back presses into him as the zombie gets within feet of us. My arms come up, shaking as the zombie slows.
The limp arm sways around as he stops, just five feet from me. My gun was point blank at his head. I couldn't pull the trigger, because there was an air of shock when the zombie just.. sniffs the air.
It's the most surreal thing seeing it so close, it snarls but doesn't make another move towards us. As if it lost the scent of what it was going after. A gunshot from the firefighters makes it turn, and it starts lumbering toward them instead.
"What the fuck." I heard it just over my shoulder, and I couldn't help agreeing with that.
