The zombie impacted with the windshield of our car, making it crack, and nearly cave in. If the zombie plunged toward it again, it would definitely fall in. I could feel adrenaline rushing through my veins, my brain forcing battle tactics into well-formed plans. Finally deciding, I chose the best one.
"Quick! Rebecca! Get the shotgun in the back!!!" She obeyed, lurching into the trunk area, searching underneath our many bags. "I can't find it! All these bags are in the way!"
I looked over at my mom, and she returned my glare with a knowing look. It was Rebecca's countless number of bags that were about to get us killed. I reached for my mother's hand, wanting nothing but the comfort of being with someone I loved when death was so near.
I looked ahead, scarcely being able to see past the cracked glass, but it was still clear to me what was about to happen. What was about to take place on this sad, cold day. Our deaths. I tried to embrace the thought that I was ready, ready to die and meet my sister, my father, and Laurie, but for some reason I just wasn't. This was not what I thought death would feel like. I guess I thought death would be more...peaceful. You know, that moment where you see yourself from above, about to leave this earth, and everything becomes...still, and hushed. That split second when it all ends, you see your family, your friends, everything, and you welcome them all back because finally, you're at peace and you will never leave them again. But if this was death, it wasn't anything like that.
The zombie raced towards us, forcing the windshield to fall on top of me and my mother. A warm, sticky substance covered me in various places on my arms and neck, all places where I'd been cut from the glass.
He plopped on top of the car's hood, mere seconds from reaching my mother and I. His nasty fingernails clawed at the hood, leaving long, thin scratches in white paint on the hood. What should I do? Should I fight with no weapons but my hands alone? No. That would be stupid. Should I run? No. I do not run no matter how bad the situation. Not to mention, I'm not going to leave my mother.
The zombie's hand was inches away from me, from scratching and clawing me to my death. I was about to slap the revolting hand away, but then thought better of it. I sat scared in my seat, awaiting my fall. This was it. This was that great moment I had been waiting for.
"Wait! I found it!" she raced through the car, as fast as possible. She nearly froze in her tracks when she saw the zombie. She handed me the gun, like an idiot, without even thinking to load it or try and smack the zombie with it. "Gee thanks." I said sarcastically.
I barely had room to maneuver around the zombie when I rammed the butt of the gun deep into his arm, making him flinch, but not falter. He looked a bit annoyed, as if I was ruining his plans. His arm reached even closer, so this time I hit him a good three times before his arm retreated. And for no reason at all, he got up off the hood of the car and sprinted off.
What had just happened? Why did he just give up like that? Just stop completely? No zombie has ever been like that...There is no way he is giving up. NO WAY.
"It's gone!!!" Rebecca shouted with joy, sounding like a child again.
I looked at Lidia, seeing the awestruck look she had. I then looked over at my mom, and her expression matched Lidia's. Not buying it, I wanted as much protection as I could get.
"Rebecca! I need some shells! Fast!"
"But why? It just left. It obviously gave up toying with us."She retorted.
"No it hasn't. No zombie ever gives up that easy or ever will. Get me some stinkin' bullets, now. I need to kill the thing when it comes back." I convinced her.
I understood that I was basically taking on all the responsibility, even though that wasn't my job. But I felt as if it was my duty to take care of everyone and make sure they were safe and protected. I needed a job to do in this hollow shell of a planet, and now I actually had one to do.
She reached into the back of the car, grabbing as many bullets as she could. She gave them to me. I grasped them tightly, hoping this was our shot at surviving. I loaded up the gun, waiting for the zombie. My mom looked at me with pleading eyes. A stream of blood gushed from her forehead, but luckily it didn't look like anything serious. I just gave her a reassuring smile that I would be alright, one way or the other.
We all waited, and listened, scared out of our wits. When you were young you imagined getting scared from a bully, or an enemy. But never this.
We waited for minutes, even though they felt like hours.
"I don't think it's going to come." Rebecca mumbled.
And as if to prove her statement wrong, our car began to near the area where the ramp ended, and you went downhill. This zombie had it all planned out. Kill us first, or stun us first, and then eat us.
"Mom, start the car!" I shouted.
"I can't!" she screamed. "It won't turn over!"
Knowing that this is what the zombie wanted, that this is what he wanted me to do, I hopped out of the car, preparing to fight.
"Sarah Jones, get back in this car right now!" My mother screeched, about ready to hop out herself.
"For what? To die? I don't think so! I'm going to end this! Stay here, everything is going to be alright."
I jumped onto the pavement, making my mother burst into tears. And as I had thought it would, the car suddenly stopped moving.
GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The loud roar echoed, louder than I'd heard it before.
The zombie emerged from behind the car, looking disoriented but strong at the same time.
It raced towards me again, using the same old tactics as before. So I raised my gun. As soon as he was about to rip my throat out, I whacked him over the head, feeling revolted when I realized the softness feeling it gave when it made contact.
He stepped back a bit, stunned. I raised my gun up about to fire, when something slammed me into the concrete. A large, much older zombie was sitting on top of me, about ready to gnaw my heart right out. The only thing between his teeth and I was the gun. I rammed it deep into his eye sockets, making him fall onto his back. He wasn't dead yet, but at least he wasn't up and fighting.
I turned just in time to see the newborn zombie sprinting towards me. I raised the gun, this time swinging it like a bat. He was just about a foot away from me when I stepped slightly to the left to get a better swing. I forced as much power into the swing as humanly possible. When the gun made contact with his squishy skull, what was left of his brains started to pour out.
But he was still not dead. He staggered upward, getting to his feet. He looked at me with that same demonic smile that sent chills down my back. Not this time. This time all it did was force more adrenaline into my bloodstream, making me fight to end this. I hoisted the gun up, aiming for his head. And just like I was waiting for him to do, he started running at me again. He was not yet ready to give up the game. He wanted to win his prize.
I shot at him just before he was able to topple me.
A mixture of both zombie blood and brains splattered onto our car.
I looked down at him, checking for any signs of life. I didn't see any, so I figured the jig was up. I walked towards the car, just as soon as Rebecca hopped out to congratulate me.
"THAT WAS AMAZING GIRL! You have got quite the swing!" She cried with joy.
She squeezed me tightly, holding me in her arms.
"Thanks. I played softball a few years ago, you' know. I never would have guessed that this is what I'd be using my skill for though." I laughed.
"I'm so glad I have you! I feel safe when you're around," She cheered.
Suddenly a pain came to my ankle. I nearly yelled out in agony, it hurt so badly.
I looked down. It was the older zombie I'd knocked down. I'd forgotten to shoot it, so it was still alive. I shot at his arm once, and then to his head twice. When I killed it its arm appeared to still be attached to my ankle. I unclenched its grasp, checking for any scratches. There were none. I'd just merely gotten lucky. Thank god for luck.
When I finally got back to the car, my mom beamed a bright smile at me. A smile that read, 'My daughter is awesome!' She hugged me to her, for what seemed like forever.
"I'm so glad you're okay," she beamed.
"Me too." I said.
"So mom..." I began.
"Yes?" she asked.
"What do we do now? I don't think this classifies as a car anymore."