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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My heart rate goes up the farther he gets. God damn this guy is fast as fuck. The closer he gets to the school the more my anxiety goes up. More unchecked spaces, more chance zombies will jump out from a dark space. I can't yell now, I can't call out, I'd have to figure out to get his attention some other way. Or maybe I could just turn around and leave.
How he didn't hear me walking behind him is mind boggling.
He opens the door and stops, watching the inside and I almost catch up to him enough to... what exactly? Call out to him? Whistle at him? Something to catch his attention.
Before I can settle on something, hes inside and I let out a frustrated noise. I follow behind him, taking a moment to pear into the hallway filled with natural lighting. I make sure its just us, no zombies and no other living people before I finally let out a whistle. His broad back stiffens and his hand goes to his hip.
"Uh-uh no, don't do that." I said hastily. The last thing I needed was to get into a old fashioned drawing duel with this guy. I at least had an advantage of facing him while his back was to me. I still didn't want to shoot someone unless I had to.
"I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to talk." I said to him and I hear a loud snort.
"I'm supposed ta believe that, when you got a gun ta my back?" He asks. His accent is thick old country, unlike Reid's more smooth Texas country.
"I don't have a gun to your back." I state, he then slowly moves his head over his shoulder. Its then I finally look at him other then his hand by his gun. Taller then me, by maybe half a foot, but his body seems similar to mine, being tall and lean. His black hair is wavy and wild. He looked like he hadn't really bothered to brush it or wash it much, and he desperately needed a trim.
"I do have a gun." I add to my statement, my hand wiggling over the butt of my gun. His eyes jump down to the movement and I can tell he's thinking about what to do. The reality of what I'm doing hits me. This is a stranger, someone who could kill me without a second thought. I wanted to be a good person, to help people out but there was no calling 911 if something went wrong, there was no calling my parents for help. I was alone, and I needed to remember how stupid approaching random people is.
But I had already got myself into this.
His hands are out at his sides, palms down like he's trying to approach a wild animal. He slowly turns, keeping his eyes on me. The dark inch long facial hair hides most of his features. He looks like a wild man in dark dirty jeans, a wrinkled and dirty gray long sleeved shirt under his leather vest. Maybe I had taken the washing machines for granted. He looks like his clothes haven't been washed in awhile and I wondered why he never switched them out with cleaner ones. Maybe he didn't have any clean clothes left.
Why was I worry about how clean his clothes were?
I opened my mouth to speak to him again, to ask him if he was friendly or not I guess. Before I could there was a banging, a rattling from behind me and I bit my tongue before I could let out a screech.
Whirling around, pulling my gun from my holster and aiming it down the hallway I notice large doors at the end. The doors shake with the banging that's happening. There's chains wrapped around the door handles, wrapped around a few times and closed with a metal rod just shoved through the links.
"It sounds like there's dozens." The man sounded closer, because he whispered that and I heard him clear enough. I couldn't seem to care if he was friendly or not anymore, those doors shake again and the sound of fists hit it. There's moaning and groaning that comes down the hall, getting louder and louder as they start working each other up in there.
"Someone filled the gymnasium up with zombies."
"We need ta get the fuck outta here." He grabs one of my arms to pull me back and I jerk away from him. Looking to him, I don't think he notices or cares that I've pulled away, because he's already heading for the door we entered in.
"Help!" The scream comes from the hall opposite the double doors leading to the zombies. "Help me please!"
Its so high pitched it was either a young boy, young girl or women with a high pitched voice. I couldn't tell but my heart rate picked up more than I thought it could. My instincts had me taking off, down the hall to where the person was crying out for help.
"No!" I heard the man shout, he was now behind me, I hear the door shut and for a moment resign myself to saving whoever was head by myself. That was until I heard heavy boot steps behind me, and he shouts at me again. "God fucking damn it!"
My shoes slap hard against the tile as the person calls out again. I make it down the hall, it opening up to a wide open area. The wall of window to the left are the entrance to the school, the ceiling reaches up past the second floor and there's a wide stair case. There's no zombies, no one being hurt, just a group of rag-tag teenagers up on the second floor flanking either side of the stairs.
And one of them had a rifle, pointed towards me. I only had a second to process what I was seeing before the loud BANG of a gun went off.
