The roar of the engine drowned out the sound of blaring guns all around her, Abby looked up, a wall was stopping her. This was more of an organic wall, composed of shuffling groaning corpses. She swallowed hard, gripping her motorcycle's handlebar tighter, revving the engine. She bit her lip, deciding if raging towards them or swerving around them would help her avoid getting her leg chomped on.
Soon, she looked over at the woman next to her, a riffle in her hand, she seemed so emotionless. Abby had met her further back in a cornfield she ducked into, she had a duffel bag full of survival materials that it almost seemed as if she had planned for this for a long time. Abby moved her hand to feel the glock resting in her jacket pocket. "You are going to have to use it sometime." The woman looked back at her, using amazing precision to shoot off the head of a chain smoking bar attending ghoul, she shuddered, precise shooting would help her live a long time in this hell hole. She looked up, the gruesome sight of them gaining of her woke her from her fan girl daydreaming. "Shoot the damn zombies!" she screamed at Abby, pulling out her AK 47 and giving them a taste of bullet shells. She froze, the splattered bits and parts of rotting flesh coated the asphalt next to her, causing her to shake a bit. She was a twenty year old college student, who by this morning, figured out she wasn't finishing college anytime soon, considering all of her professors had more than just helping brains GROW on their rotting minds. The women's long blonde hair was tied back, and her face was smeared with blood and motor oil, a few scratches, and a nasty bruise made her look like one of those war heroes out of a bad explosion movie. "Come on, we have to get further into the country before the farmers meet their new neighbors, if you get what I'm saying." She signaled for Abby, who rode a bit further towards her. "We have to pick out what we need from the house." She pointed over at the small farmhouse they have slaughtered the residents of. "Got it." Abby nodded slowly, her mind was broken from all of it.
"You take any weapon, bullets, or shotgun, they usually have them in the living room in these parts just hung like trophies , I'll grab oil and gas, medicine, and hopefully water bottles." She instructed, pulling out her smaller gun which she hadn't noticed she even had. "Got it?" she snapped. Abby nodded quickly, gripping her glock tight.
The basement was dark, as they opened the old chipping door, revealing a basement full of boxes. "Well, it's our lucky day." Abby smiled, pointing to the small blocks of dehydrated food and hunting gear. "Guess it is." She grinned at Abby. The slowly descended, and searched for a light source. Flick! The basement was illuminated by a flickering hanging 1950's light-bulb. "Hunters." The blonde woman laughed happily, first time Abby had seen her loosen up on her gun and her tense facial expression this whole time. "How are we going to carry this all?" her hand swung to her hip. She peered over at Abby, smirking. "Farmers drive trucks."
"Ugh!" Abby groaned, tossing a box into the bed of the shiny new steak-and-potatoes- hunting truck they found laying covered in livers and fingers, puss and blood. "So,…are you some sort of army soldier or something?" she asked looking over at her as they drove down the highway. "Cop, twelve years. Officer Melina Zapata from Arizona, call me Zapata" She responded. That made sense, but made Abby a bit more nervous, she had her share of wild parties and flashing, and plenty of weed. "Oh, that helps with the whole surviving a zombie apocalypse and all that fun stuff huh? Well, I'm Abby, a college student, three years. Call me Abby.." She said feeling a bit stupid, she turned to look at the road blurring by, so many, shuffling around, lifeless, but so animated. "You can see the hunger in there rotting eyes." Zapata remarked, as Abby toggled with the radio dials, searching for something besides news on "reanimation z virus" just a fancier name for liver loving, spleen sucking freaks. "Thank you, by the way." Abby said quietly, looking down at her hands, not sure what to do with them. "For what?" she asked curiously, raising a brow. " Saving me." She responded timidly, remembering running around on campus, and throwing herself onto the parking lot pavement, hiding under a toyota until the packs of scared teens and zombies were gone, and riding her stolen bike into a ditch, almost getting her arm torn off by a farmers wife, and hearing a loud pop, then looking up and seeing Zapata gripping a gun.
The night rolled in, they turned on the brightest setting of lights and ran over a few corpses, but for the most part, the country was clear of zombies. Abby had fallen asleep, her jacket hood pulled over her face, using it as a blanket. Zapata looked over at her and smiled a little bit, then, a tall figure was standing on the road. This zombie had bright blue eyed, and was tall, so tall. She swerved, waking Abby up. "This isn't a zombie." Zapata barked, causing Abby to grow alert. They shot out of the car, looking at the tall man, his messy black hair was slightly greasy with blood and oil. "Are you bit?" she called out, keeping her distance. Abby stared at him, how long had he been alone? "NO!" he voice sounded weak, and cracking. He limped over towards them, his shoulders shaking, they examined him, he was bleeding, and it was obvious he had seen more than both of them that day. "Get in the truck pussy." Zapata rolled her eyes, hopping back into the car.
"I'm Remy." He said quietly, sitting in the back seat of the truck. He looked up at Abby, who was glancing at him from time to time "Are you hurt?" Abby asked, she was training to be an anesthesiologist. "Ah, it's just a scratch." He waved it away, but she saw a gash in his shoulder and winced. "Sure." She said sarcastically