Untitled Project

Det var sådan set skrevet for sjovt, men folk så ud til at nyde det, og bad rent faktisk om at læse mere. Så det er en historie, jeg er begyndt at skrive på. Ved ikke hvad den ender med, da jeg bare tager et kapitel ad gangen.
Men den handler om det typiske zombie udbrud, og hvordan folk prøver at overleve.


2. Chapter 1.

Chapter 1.

“Do it! Do it now, Charlie! DO IT BEFORE THEY COME!”
His ears were ringing. The echo of the gunshot had echoed through the walls and ricocheted into his memory. There it would stay for the rest of his sanity. He wasn’t prepared for this; he thought they would get out of the city together.  

He bent down over her and tried to close her eyes to make it look like she was sleeping. He wasn’t sure if he was doing this for her or for himself. Did he want her to be at peace or did he want to feel less guilty about what he had just done? You could still see the whites of her eyes, so he took his index and middle finger and pressed gently on the lids to pull them down. They opened up again. They don’t tell you that part in the movies; that eyes can’t close completely and as rigor mortis occurs they pop open, like a jack in a box, because the eyelids recede backwards into the head. He didn’t want her eyes to be open. He knew that she was gone, but he didn’t want her to see what was going to happen when they came. They didn’t care if she was dead; they still wanted her.

 Blood was now seeping through her clothes. A puddle had gathered beside her, flowing towards his feet. He took a step back as if her contaminated blood would eat its way through his sneakers. He knew what would have happened had he not pulled the trigger.  She had begged him to do it. If she had had the balls to do it herself, she would have done it the second they had grabbed her.

The radio broadcast had told survivors to go to the Convention Center in the city. It was a mandatory evacuation ordered by the government. It was the only safe place to be, so they had decided to go. Charlie didn’t want to enter the cities; he knew what was in there waiting for them. Troops or no troops, it was a suicide mission to try and reach the Center. This, they were told, was their haven. But before you could get there, you had to go through hell. What a fucking cliché, he thought to himself. They should have just stayed out in the suburbs; they were still empty and clear of the virus. It had started in the larger cities and it seemed to stay there, so why the hell did he listen to her in the first place?

He heard a moan coming from downstairs. Another joined the first one. The ringing in his ears had stopped and he could now clearly hear them; the pack. They were coming.

They shuffled their feet and tried to get up the stairs. He could hear them getting closer now. The moans were getting louder and their shuffling was getting vaster. The gunshot must have attracted their attention. He couldn’t make out how many were coming, but he knew he was fucked. One of them wasn’t a problem. They weren’t fast, their reflexes were shot. But a pack? You don’t ever want to come by a pack of these things. You better pray that it’ll go fast once they get you, but it never does. Imagine getting your stomach opened with bare hands, watching your intestines get pulled out, inch by inch, while you’re still wide awake. The pain so intense, you can’t even scream. All you wish for is to just die or pass out. But you don’t. The adrenaline is pumping so hard through your body that you can’t even move. All you can do is watch. Watch them pull out the contents of your stomach, letting the last meal you had drip through their hands, while your kidney is being chewed on.

This was what was in store for Charlie, unless he found a way out of this place. He had two options, either jump out and hope for just a sprained ankle or run up to the roof and pray there’s a fire escape. By the sound of their moans getting closer, Charlie knew he didn’t have enough bullets to make it out through the main entrance, and he didn’t want to attract any more of them by firing his gun.


 He decided to do what he always did, when great decision were to be made; he flipped a coin.

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