Bloody Knuckles and Shotgun Shells
Crowbars and Shovels
Allison's POV:
“We need to find a safe house.” I tell Ashton, walking briskly down Main St. Each of us have a gun strapped to each hip and as many bullets as can fit in a back pack. The baseball bat that was taking up the space in my left fist is now replaced by an old shovel I found at the station. I’ve killed three zombie shitheads with it already.
“Wal-Mart?” she suggests. I stop, turn around and look her dead in the eyes.
“Are you kidding me? It’s way too big. The place will be teeming with these undead fuckers. Not to mention, didn’t you used to have nightmares about Big Bird following you through Wal-Mart?”
“Yeah.” she shivers, trying to block out the recollection.
“Just imagine these zombies are Big Bird. You wouldn’t want to be stuck in a giant place like Wal-Mart where they could be lurking anywhere.”
“True, but we need a place with food and water. Target isn’t as big.”
“Maybe, but we’ll have to see. I’m thinking Gander Mountain.” I suggest.
“No, I refuse.”
“All right, fine. You baby. We’ll go to Target.” I tell her with a sigh. “At least until we run low on bullets.”
A loud crunch accompanied by “Shit!” reaches my ears. I whirl around, gun drawn. Ashton’s eyes are wide and a small spray of dark zombie blood covers her cheek. The formerly walking dead man lays on the ground to her right, a crowbar lodged in his neck. Pulling out a piece of cloth, I say, “Wipe that off your face. Did any get in your eyes, mouth or ears?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I want to know what the fuck is going on and I want to know now,” she yells at nothing.
“I want to know if there are any damn people around here who don’t want to eat my flesh.”
“We need to find a safe house.” I tell Ashton, walking briskly down Main St. Each of us have a gun strapped to each hip and as many bullets as can fit in a back pack. The baseball bat that was taking up the space in my left fist is now replaced by an old shovel I found at the station. I’ve killed three zombie shitheads with it already.
“Wal-Mart?” she suggests. I stop, turn around and look her dead in the eyes.
“Are you kidding me? It’s way too big. The place will be teeming with these undead fuckers. Not to mention, didn’t you used to have nightmares about Big Bird following you through Wal-Mart?”
“Yeah.” she shivers, trying to block out the recollection.
“Just imagine these zombies are Big Bird. You wouldn’t want to be stuck in a giant place like Wal-Mart where they could be lurking anywhere.”
“True, but we need a place with food and water. Target isn’t as big.”
“Maybe, but we’ll have to see. I’m thinking Gander Mountain.” I suggest.
“No, I refuse.”
“All right, fine. You baby. We’ll go to Target.” I tell her with a sigh. “At least until we run low on bullets.”
A loud crunch accompanied by “Shit!” reaches my ears. I whirl around, gun drawn. Ashton’s eyes are wide and a small spray of dark zombie blood covers her cheek. The formerly walking dead man lays on the ground to her right, a crowbar lodged in his neck. Pulling out a piece of cloth, I say, “Wipe that off your face. Did any get in your eyes, mouth or ears?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I want to know what the fuck is going on and I want to know now,” she yells at nothing.
“I want to know if there are any damn people around here who don’t want to eat my flesh.”
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AN: You guys should check out my other stories. Haha. I'd be much obliged.