Even though they were recovering (all of them actually), that didn't seem to stop the world from throwing another obstacle at them.
Two weeks after the warehouse raid and they were on the run from zombies, again. They were trying to go to a hotel that was relatively close, but of course, a horde found them. This time, instead of the easy walking ones that took eight minutes to walk two feet, they encountered a group with a lot of runners.
Phil's heart was beating so fast he feared it would beat out of his chest. He could see Troye and Tyler in front of him, and knew Dan was right beside him, but that didn't stop the fear of being attacked going away. It took one slip, one anything and Phil would be zomblunch. It would take anything to make anyone of them zomblunch, which scared Phil even more.
What if something happened to Dan?
No, he didn't have time to think about that. He couldn't think about Dan falling. He couldn't even picture it. He had to keep going and hope, pray, that nothing happened.
Not that the squealing and blood curtailing screams of the zombies behind them helped. The best way Phil could compare their screams was close to the the sound of tires squealing to a stop as a child screamed, with the faint sound of someone blending fruits in a blender in the distance. Not that zombies sounded like cars, but it was similar to the sound of the car's breaks suddenly stopping and the tires stopping suddenly on the pavement. Phil was happy that cars didn't run anymore because he would probably vomit by just the sound of one starting because he would picture this moment.
Which turned more traumatic in a matter of seconds.
The squealing and screams got closer and Phil, sweet little Phil, misplaced his foot. One small misplaced foot, one in which cause his other foot to hook under his heel and trip him, sent him grumbling forward. He felt his right cheek hit the asphalt first, scrapping it. He knew it would bleed later, but the next thing the felt was claws. It wasn't like cat claws, those tiny little bean paws shoving tiny, sharp claws into your arm. No, Phil could only imagine these as claws like a dog's, sharped to the point to where it could cut like a razor blade. These claws dug into his back, like a grapple, and Phil screamed out. It was a mix of agony and fear, along with a hint of distress.
It hit Phil the minute the claws dug deeper into his skin: a crawler was on top of him. This pack was a mix of crawler zombies (their definition of crawlers are zombies that can run, climb and jump. They have talon like claws that rip flesh off anything) and runners. Phil couldn't move, mostly because he didn't want his back skin to be yanked off his back, possibly exposing his spine and inside back muscles. This could be the end. There was no way to help him now. The pack behind him would surely-
There was a bang from a gun, a ripping and snapping sound above him before he was being yanked back up onto his feet and told to run. Phil didn't realize his eyes were filled with tears until he realized he had no idea where he was running to. He could only feel the blazing wounds on his back and the hand in his hand. He hoped it was Dan, but he didn't know. He hoped Dan hadn't just left him for dead. Dan loved him, right? He wouldn't leave him to be killed.. right?
But his ankle hurt too. It sent sparks of pain racing up his leg. As he was being forced to run, it felt like his leg was going to lock up, and he would collapse again. He didn't want to fall, so Phil just kept telling his brain, "we have to keep going. Ignore the pain. Keep running for Dan."
Don't Forget
Start from the beginning
