Die. Rise. Repeat.

Follow the story of a survivor. no super powers, no playful furries, no teen dramas. just survival.

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2. Exertion.

She stirred. How long had she been asleep? The red haze over everything cause by the sun meant she had at least slept through the night. She tried to sit up, then banged her head on the bottom of the car. Fucking idiot. "SHIIIiii..." Her shout decayed to a murmur, then a whisper. Crap, had the zombies heard her? She did a 360 look around. She seemed safe for now, bar an old dead lady with a caved in nose, however The zombie was old, and probably deaf, she couldn't seem to pinpoint the sound of an idiot headbutting a car underside.

Alyx's back and arms stung clearly, and her ribs and shoulders felt sore. She looked at the cop corpse. his helmet had blood splattered on the inside. She didn't have the water to clean it down, and there was no way she would lug a gored up kevlar filled pile of glorified padding two miles to the nearest river. what was she thinking? It, not for the first time, dawned on her that she shat luck she didn't deserve, albeit only to stumble into more ill thought out disasters like this riot gear cock-up. For all the time she moaned about how everything in her life brewed into a shit-stew, she still clung to life, and to hope. Even if it was to spit in deaths face for another day.

She stood up. "...fuu... fuck this!" She said aloud to no-one in particular, and grabbed the shoes of the riot dudes feet. He wore decent socks, and bar the smell the shoes seemed in peak condition. As stylish as Alyx's cyan trainers were, trainers and other civvy shoes just didn't last with this nomadic lifestyle. She picked up her crowbar where she dropped it. Bent. Just her luck. she could get like, what, 2-5 hits before it became unusable? Better than her fists, she thought. 

The old lady started moving towards her, in that drunken, glazed eyed way that they usually do. Sigh... Alyx lifted her crowbar, put it in pristine batting condition and waited for the right moment. This moment always creeped her out. The bit where they aren't fighting, or clawing, or wondering. It's the bit where they look into each other's eyes, see the void, and get locked into an arena, in which only one leaves.

It was over in a second. She manage to shatter her skull, and in turn her brain. She didn't even break the skin! That had never happened before. She would have been happy for the lack of blood, if her dead friend in power armor over there hadn't spurted blood juice over her already.

Just another day. another mistake. another life.

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