"Go," Michael tells me and Luke, practically shoving us outside, "We'll deal with her,"
"Are you sure?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowed, worry filling my features. There's a big part of me that doesn't want to leave them, but an even bigger part knows that Luke and I are already doing our part. It just wouldn't be logical to make us do this, too.
"Positive," Bailey says, rummaging through random luggage from the overhead storage spaces. "Here," she says hurriedly, shoving a rather large, empty duffle bag in Luke's arms and an empty gallon jug (that I assume she'd just scored from the driver's long haul stash) in mine. "You two go and find fuel, we'll deal with April."
My stomach is uneasy, my throat clogging up with an imaginary lump as big as my fist. "We can just-"
"Come on," Luke says with no hesitation, taking the jug from my hands and hitting the button that seperates the double doors. My eyes widen, especially as April lets out a horrific shriek- causing countless undead heads to turn. "Sophie!" Luke partly yells, the bag slung over his shoulder, one hand clutching both his ski pole and the empty bottle, "Let's go!"
I don't think twice, I just go. My feet plant firmly on the snow covered concrete and I quite literally hit the ground running; my vision blurred by the fog and falling flakes of white that are both refreshing and mind-numbingly cold. Corpses from left and right and centre approach the noisy vehicle with determination; only a select few of them are actually distracted by the two rushed teens hoping to get out safely.
Luke is in front of me, his feet light and careful of where they step and I try my best to copy him, my own treads slotting swiftly into the prints he leaves behind. Every now and then he looks back at me, icy blues scanning my body and the space behind me, an odd mixture of fear and hopefulness flooding his features as I'm too focused to even control mine.
The light I saw earlier comes closer and closer to us and a sigh of relief leaves my lips. I'm so relieved that I could cry, but there's no time. Something fast scurries frantically towards us and just by chance, I swing the ski pole to my right, cringing when I hear the sound of cracking bones paired with an eerily lifeless groan.
I've killed another one of them. But unlike before, I can't dwell on it.
Luke's fast and smart when it comes to dodging the corpses we pass and I try to mimick him, placing my feet where he places his, swinging the pole in the opposite direction to where his is swung so that we have protection on both sides. The gas station isn't too far, but it feels like a lifetime away.
"Watch out!" he warns, his voice stern and alert. Suddenly, he drops the duffel and the jug and before I know it, the sharp side of his ski pole is wedged into the skull of a fast one; it's fingers outstretched, open mouth falling closed as it's brain shudders off. I pick up the jug, he scoops up the duffel bag, and we carry on.
"Are you okay?" I ask, my breathing uneven and ragged. Luke nods, but I can't tell if it's just because he's running or if he actually is just fine. I decide to ask later— if we live until later, that is.
There are still corpses milling around us, even when we arrive a good twenty feet away from the gas station, and my heart sinks. For some unknown reason, I really thought that the journey would be the hardest part. It never occured to me that we'd have to fight once we'd arrived, too.
"I'll fill up the jug," I say, resting the plastic container on my hip and unscrewing the cap. He nods, but he also signals towards the still lit-up 7-11 in front of us.
"There'll be food in there. And water,"
"It's too dangerous," I shake my head, hooking the jug up to one of the many petrol hoses and letting it drip into the plastic. The stream is slow, but once I catch sight of the strong-smelling liquid, my shoulders relax.
YOU ARE READING
bodycount ⋆ luke hemmings
Fanfiction"so, what's your bodycount?" "the people i've killed or the people i've slept with?" "well, they're not really people anymore. but both." • ski trips can be messy; agitated teachers, homesick kids, claustrophobic coach rides. the usual. but sophie n...