Even a Weasel Finds Love
A/N: Alright everyone, this is my FIRST Call of Duty fanfic, and my second fanfic with a pairing. (I deleted my first one, though.) So please don't flame.
Review if you'd like! Also, this first chapter or monologue or whatever it's called (forgive me, I'm not so sure at the moment, so I'll say it's a monologue) is somewhat short, but then again, I am still having major writer's block. Also, the title may change, as the original title: Even a Weasel Finds Love, sounds a bit cheesy. At least it does to me.
Anyway, enjoy!
Monologue
I've lived on this rock for years now, in the working class. I never had experienced any problems as horrifying as this one. I wish I hadn't taken the train and boat back home from Utah. I should have stayed with my parents for Christmas and New Year's. But I didn't, and now I face the consequences.
The worst issues to those of us who lived on Alcatraz Island were the usual escape attempts the criminals in the prison not too far away would make. None were sucessful. Now, those escape plans many inmates would try to carry out seem like a kindergartener finding a way out of the timeout room. I'm not sure how everyone's going to survive this.
I'm one of the lucky ones. I had stumbled upon a warehouse while I was walking home that some people had left wide open. Inside of it held a couple of revolvers, a baseball bat, a hunting rifle, a rusty knife, and blood. Lots of blood. At first, I was horrified to even go near it. I was confused. What was going on?
Just as I had asked myself this, I heard gunshots coming from the prison. Another escape attempt? I let out a gasp when I heard groaning. It was faint, far away, and all but human. Instinctively, I reached for one of the revolvers, but quickly pulled back. The groan was probably just in my head.
In the Great War, I had disguised myself as a man and made an attempt to join the army. I only got through about a month of training. I was too weak. I was soon discovered to be a woman when I was sent to the medic after almost breaking a rib on an obstacle course. "Women don't fight in wars!" The furious Sergeant had said to me before I was sent home. I only have a few weeks worth of practice with guns and knives, and most of it I had already lost.
More gunfire from the prison. Again, I grabbed for a revolver and blindly grabbed a magazine or two for ammo. I hid the gun in the right pocket of my work pants. I hoped to God I was just hearing things when the groan came again, closer than before. I shook with fear, and a bolt of adrenaline crept up and down my spine.
Then, suddenly, the bush to my left shook. I took my gun out, and struggled loading it. Before I could investigate it, though, a man darted out of it, running towards me. He moaned, inhumanly. I had only a second to look at him. The first thing I noticed was his eyes. They were blood red, and glowed evilly. It was like staring into the deepest pits of Hell itself. He was drenched with blood, his entire body was punctured with what I could only assume was barbed wire or pieces of wood. Some of his gray skin was loosely torn off, and he lacked a nose. I jumped back. This was no man.
I quickly pulled my revolver up, and shot him in the stomach. He fell, and wailed demonically. I backed away into something cold and stiff. I turned and screamed. There were more of these 'zombies' as my older brother had called them when we went to see a silent film a year ago. I did the only thing I thought of.
I ran.
I had no idea where I was running, I just let my legs do their thing.
Too bad they led me to the prison.
A/N: The next chapter will be much better, I promise.