Chapter 1:

Desert

Time seemed to stop as I waited beneath the car. The moans and groans that echoed in my ears became a droning of noise, just a bunch of noise. I knew they could smell my blood, though I didn't know if they thought it was old, or that I was there. I just waited, silently, barely breathing or moving, there was a great chance that I wouldn't be able to get out of here, that they would stay until the rest of eternity, but that was fine with me, because then they wouldn't be able to get to me. And I was grateful for that, at least.

I closed my eyes. Maybe I could take a nap, a short nap, they wouldn't be able to get to me, they couldn't fit underneath the car. My eyes started to flutter closed, my breathing deepening and evening out. Blackness came over me as I fell asleep.

I awoke to silence. The moaning and groaning had stopped. The constant droning noise had disappeared, and chills crept up my spine. I looked around the bottom of the car, seeing nothing by the desert dirt and sand. I could smell a faint metallic scent, like the smell of wet pennies. Blood. I crept silently forward, my back grating against the bottom of the car's hot metal, the pipes digging into my back and shredding what was left of my black tank top.

The smell got stronger the more I crept towards the front of the car where I could faintly see dark pools of a liquid in the sand. It had become nightfall, I had slept through the day. Good, I could move quicker at night, the Undead wouldn't be able to see me move, and I could gain more ground during the night than the day anyways. I came to a stop at the edge of the car's hood, peeking out.

And indeed, the smell of so much blood was nauseating, though, the blood was not human. There was green and white pus throughout the blood, making it appear slimy, thick, filmy. There were pieces of graying flesh and eyes and hair in the blood. A decomposed arm or foot or . . . Head . . . Lay in the blood. Bodies ripped to shreds laying in the pools.

I started breathing through my mouth, though that didn't stop my gag reflex from disagreeing with me, I hate it when that happens. In the small ditch under the car of which I had crawled, I curled sideways and threw up, the acrid stench of my vomit and of the Undead's decomposing bodies mixed in the air, only making me wretch more. Disgusting pieces of sh-

There came a sound. The crunching of small, nimble feet on the dirt and rocks. Though it was almost silent, it sounded like a gunshot in the silent night. I lay over my foul smelling vomit, disgusting, I know, though I couldn't exactly move anywhere, cut me some slack, I'm not that much of a grunge girl.

Though, besides that thought, a thousand other ones raced through my head, Had they heard me? They had, didn't they? Oh, Im so screwed. Please don't look under the car. They can reach in and drag me out from how close I am to the edge of the car. Oh, please, God, if you have ever hated me any other time, please don't hate on me now, Haters not gonna' Hate. So screwed-

Another crunching of feet. I knew the sound was not human. It was too quiet, too . . . I don't know how to explain it, though it definitely was not human. A soft breeze rolled by, bringing the stench of vomit and blood away from me and to my right, rolling away, along with some other lighter . . .Body parts . . . Not going into details, trust me, you DON'T wanna' know! I couldn't pinpoint the sound of the feet, though it sounded like it was coming from-

SNAP! To my right . . . I whipped my head around to the direction it came from. Only to find glowing yellow eyes staring back at me, its face only inches from mine, the stench of it's rotting body and bodily fluids sending shiver through me and my throat to close up in panic.

I scrambled away from the Undead, it's glowing yellow eyes following me. I saw its jaw working loosely from it's gray head, orange teeth crooked and covered in drying and fresh blood. A few tufts of hair covered its large skull as it gazed at me soundlessly, its jaw still working, though in circles as it ground its sharp, scarlet and orange teeth together, making a sound so blood curdling that I was momentarily frozen on the other side of the car. And then, it started reaching for me, of which I gave only a reaction I could have delivered; giving a growl and curling of my lip in disgust as I thrust my right foot forward in the tiny space to slam my combat boot covered foot into its ugly arse face, smiling in satisfaction as a jaw dropping crunch sounded and my leg vibrated with the impact as it sank into its face and snapping it's head back and off of it's shoulders.

Although I knocked it's head off, it was already dead, I needed to tear the thing to pieces, not two. I reached forward and grabbed it's outstretched hand, being careful of the oozing holes in it's graying, decomposing skin. I flinched when I made contact with it; it's skin felt like mush, a mayonnaise infused balloon made of paper, it moved, its skin coming off in my hand. How they managed to eat anyone I have no effing clue.

I rolled underneath the car, going to me left and coming up behind the wheels of the car, scrambling out and into the night, my skin grazing the hot metal and singing and burning my dirt covered skin. By now, you are probably wondering why there are face-sucking Zombies all around me, why I'm hiding underneath a car, why I'm out in the middle of nowhere, stuck and covered in dirt and blood. How I look, or why my personality is so bad-arse. Well, let me tell you . . .

In a friggan moment, I'm kinda' busy.

Once I was out from underneath the car, I grabbed the closest thing to me; a severed arm, and raised it up in my right hand, widening my stance and snarling at the body graveling at my feet. The moon shone brightly down on me, the stars were providing a sliver of silver light, and although that was great an all, the Undead has heightened senses, which means they had night-vision. This is where my Defense Mechanism kicks in, where I use Sarcasm as my super-power.

"You ugly piece of chizz! Come at me, bro! Come at me!" I sneered, my lip still curled. It stumbled once, reaching out for it's head and grabbing it by the skin hanging off of the back of it's head. I watched in loathing as it snapped its head back and shoved it back onto it's frail, bone thin shoulders. Eww.

The Undead closed it's glowing yellow eyes, its teeth mashing together to create a grinding sound, it's massive, egg-like head swinging back an forth methodically. I waited patiently, watching, waiting, ready. Not a moment too soon, its eyes snapped back open, now the color of blood, of crimson, of rage. It let out a deafening roar that could have fell an elephant, and lunged at me, it's talon like finger's lengthened and outstretched, nails sharp like knives. Mouth open and elongated teeth like a shark's going for my throat.

Of course, the bizzatch never touched me.

I sidestepped the Undead, bringing the arm in close to my body and turning ever slightly. I felt the graze of his nails on my black tank top, felt the wind of his attack sweep past me and bring my black raven hair billowing into my black eyes, dark as onyx orbs. There you go.

I shot my foot forward right before he came out of my reach and tripped the bastard, smiling as his face planted right into the ground, his head snapping off again, one of his arms and legs coming loose and popping right off of his body. I hurried over to him, grabbing what was left of his left arm and yanking it right off, feeling the puss inside of his skin ooze out and onto my hand. I turned and grabbed his right leg from underneath me, twisting it at an odd angle, relishing in the crunch of bone and the heady break of his leg off of his abdomen. He couldn't move anything now, there was nothing attached.

I got up from his body and went over to the others, twisting off limbs and thrashing others. Gathering them up and putting them onto the hood of the car, which I had now found out was a silver Honda civic. Figures.

I went to the trunk of the car and found, hah! the spare gallon of gas. I went over to the passenger side door and yanked it open, snapping open the dashboard drawer and rifled through the various ammo casings and napkins covered in blood, several broken explosives, and found the matches. Mhmm. Mama had been prepared. I grabbed up several of the broken explosives, things like grenades and dynamite and C4, along with the matches and slammed the door of the car shut.

All the while I was doing this, I had a skip and a hop in my step, whistling a cheery tune, which, by the way, happened to be Donald, Where's Your Trousers? By The Irish Rovers. Favorite song of the week right now. I came to the hood and carefully placed the explosives in strategic places. I grabbed the small bar of C4 and pulled out a spare shoe-string from my pocket, my shoelaces were always breaking, and that was bad in the world of the Undead, so I kina collect them right now, and tied the shoelace to it.

I grabbed the matches from the back pocket of my faded blue denim skinny jeans, the once clean, blood and pus free material now covered in the stuff, along with various and annoying holes here and there. I twisted a match from the small box and struck it against the side of the box. At my first hit, the match came to life, and I watched in amazement as small sparks flew off of the red tip of the match, the flame going from the deepest indigo of blues, to the most fiery of oranges.

I watched as it danced in the small breeze, giving off a small amount of heat in the already hot night. The flames seemed to beckon me, call to me, telling me to just make it end, to stop the world and let me off. Tiny fingers made of flames reached for my face, giving off waves of warmth and heating my rosy cheeks, bringing to life inside me something dark and forbidden. I closed my dark eyes, shaking my head. No. Not tonight.

I slowly fluttered my eyes open and glanced once more at the flames, which seemed to have gotten smaller, weaker, defeated. I carefully reached down and lit the shoelace tied to the C4. And, once the dirt covered shoelace was lit, I turned and sprinted away, running for my life as the flames crawled higher up the shoelace to the C4 nestled in between the Undead body parts, surrounded my explosives and covered in the leftover gas I had poured all over the hood and everything.

I was barely far enough away before the silver Honda Civic exploded behind me in an eruption of pure white fire.

Tell me what you think! I will explain everything in the second chapter, stay tuned! Wow, that sounds corny. :D