Mythical Short Stories - 방탄손연단 PART 3

•> Jimin <•

He pounds the glass, eventually grabbing a bit of the standing stall and pulling the metal pole out, using it to break the window as the stall falls down.

He grabs a few of the shirts, not even paying attention to the size and walks back out, stuffing them into his backpack.

He always tries to look like a survivor in case a human comes by and shoots him, but also walk zombie-ish in case a zombie doesn't get his scent and sees him for a human.

A simple growl will usually do.

He goes over to the next store and finds nothing, searching the town for food.

Anything is good as long as it isn't spoiled. Canned fruits and bowled noodles will do.

As Jimin grabs what he needs, his sensitive ears pick up a loud screech. A car break.

He rushes to grab his things and goes to hide in a nearby house. His red eyes quickly scan the living room for anything useful but decides to head upstairs to watch from a distance.

He leans out the window, careful to not be seen.

He frowns.

Two vans rush into the streets after their breaks hit the pavement. These things were zombie-proof.

Barred off with metal and tiny holes for guns to fire through with code locks, chains, and tiny flashlights hanging from the top.

Jimin squints his eyes with a deep growl, his eyes hurting at just the bit of light.

One of the door slams open, starting the person who is pushed out.

It's a man. He looks frightened although armed to the max, guns and knives and even a crowbar.

His face is covered with a mask and a beanie, mostly wearing black and extra clothes and a waist pouch.

He mans up and clenches on his machine gun, looking around before calling to the others and banging on the second van in a certain code.

Out jump four more men.

A tall one with a sniper rifle hanging from his back with a guitar strap and a belt filled with tiny pouches full of bullets and tiny glass bottles of bleach.

A slightly shorter one, who elbows the taller at arrival, coming from the other van. He wears a pair of glasses, gloves, and holds a walkie talkie, talking things Jimin can't pick up through the static, his hand resting on his bloodied spiked bat.

The third one cracks his neck and knuckles, rubbing over his spiked gloves. He doesn't look like much all covered up, but Jimin can smell the cologne right off him.

The last man coming out is hesitant as well, holding out an axe-bat and a handful of throwing knives which he messily tries to put on his belt.

The first guy takes the bat from him so he can do what he needs to, even though his almond eyes grow wider in fear and disgust at the musky smell of death all around.

It's good Jimin took what he had to before these came.

Usually humans come to raid, then look for bunkers, camps, or strongholds.

He's safe in the house. Humans don't raid homes in case of zombies.

There is one tiny problem though. Human scent.

Stalkers were better. Better hearing, tasting, sight, and smell. Even strength and intuition.

But when he held onto his humanity, so many humans could tempt him. He's never eaten a human before, but he wants to every time one is near.