Craig of the Dead

5. The Kinda Bad Rescue

"What do you mean I don't have a drivers license?" I yelled. The guard pulled me out of the car, holding me by my jacket collar. Another agent had just escorted my father away, through the gate that closed off South Park from the rest of Colorado. From the rest of the world.

"I'm sorry, young man, but you are underage and have no drivers license. Therefore, I cannot sit here and watch you drive away in your father's car." He snatched the keys out of my hand, setting me down on the pavement.

"What do you want me to do!"

"I would suggest leaving the car here where we can keep an eye on it. At least until you find someone who does have a drivers license to drive you."

"WELL WHERE AM I GONNA FIND SOMEONE TO DRIVE WHEN YOU IDIOTS TOOK ALL THE FRICKIN' ADULTS???" I vaguely realized how much I sounded like Kyle right now, arguing with an officer because something was unfair.

"I'm sorry, I don't make the rules here, I just enforce them. Why don't you walk a little bit, stretch your legs?" He offered.

"I'm sorry if I don't want to be eaten! Now give me my keys!" I jumped up, trying to grab the keys out of the man's hand, but he simply held them out of reach.

"Please, just depart peacefully."

"Fine. Just let me get something really quick." I growled, walking towards the open car door. If the driver wouldn't let me drive in the apocalypse, then he sure wouldn't let me carry a shotgun around. Still, I needed that thing. It had saved my life this morning, and just carrying it around made me feel safer. Plus, I would have to walk a while if I wanted to get back to my house. Now that the protection of the car was gone, I would need some extra help.

"Okay, kiddo. Get whatever you need to get and run along." He said.

"Okay, just about got it." In a flash, I reached in, grabbed ahold of the familiar wooden handle, and sprinted away from the car.

"Hey, is that a gun? Get back here young man, it's illegal for someone your age to be possessing a firearms!" Yeah, well I'm pretty sure it's illegal to hold a bunch of kids hostage in a zombie-infested town, but he didn't see me complaining.

I ran and ran until I could barely hear his voice anymore. He had been an older man too, so less likely to follow me. I swerved into an alley and rested for a bit, catching my breath from the sprint.

Okay, so what to do now. I was pretty far away from home with no means of transportation except my own two feet. Right now, though, my biggest question was this: Where is everyone? Although I hadn't left the house since today, I still hadn't seen anyone on the way here. If the reports were true, then Kyle should still be here. So should Kenny, and Cartman, and Butters, and Craig and Those Guys. Unless they're already walkers. No, they couldn't be. I just had to keep telling myself that.

Suddenly, a scream broke the silence. I almost catapulted off the ground, but the sound wasn't coming from the alley, and it wasn't coming from a walker, either. It was coming from the old SodaSopa remains. My friends and I used to play games all the time at that rusty dump. I hadn't visited in a while but, like I said earlier, I also haven't been out of the house for a week or two.

"AHHH!" I heard the scream again, reverberating all throughout the alley. I deliberated just leaving. I had my own mission, my own plan, and besides, what if I couldn't help the kid? What if I just ended up getting myself killed?

"GET OFF ME, SOMEBODY HELP PLEASE!" The voice shrieked. If I listened closely, I could also hear the grunts and groans of a walker, maybe even two. Finally, against my better judgment, I ran towards the noise with my shotgun in hand.