Walking for Bullets
Rain splattered repeatedly on the broken windshield of a navy blue and rusty Honda. The clear rain soon morphed into a scarlet red as a girl, crashed on top of and through the windshield. She collapsed on top of the ratty and soaked fabric of the driver's seat. Her hair was a golden blond, with dirty, wet, blood-stained curls. Her eyes were a solid ocean blue, and her dirt stained, small scrapes and scratches covered her heart-shaped face, mainly from the glass in the earlier collision. Her attire was plain; A dirty and bloody white tee with putty brown jeans. The knees were only bits of string now, from the girl obviously not being too graceful. Her shoes, simple grey converse, were shoving and kicking at the rotting flesh of a biter.
She had been on the road long enough to learn that a gun was a terrible idea in this so-called zombie apocalypse. Sound and light attracted the brainless monsters. They'd come in packs, which made everything even worse. However, she took the alternative and was always equipped with a bow and plenty of arrows. She stretched the bow back, and released, the arrow shooting right through the biter's forehead. The biter went limp and fell on her, crushing her into the seat even more. The rank flesh was always enough to make her vomit. She tried to hold it in, but gave in to her gag reflex, and orange fluid dribbled everywhere; the dead biter, her white shirt, and back on her face.
Her arms, scraped and covered in bruises from other occurrences, and her bow, feebly attempted to throw the dead monster off her, but she was unable, for the windshield was in the way. She could only raise the dead body about one inch off her own. The girl gave up and just laid there, drenched in rain, blood, sweat, and puke.
The sun had set long ago, and outside of the car she was in, she began to hear biters prowling. Out of the right corner of her eye, the only eye she could out of at the moment, she noticed four crawlers present.
I can take them. She thought to herself, silently grinning amidst the various liquids. She lifted the dead body as high as she could off her, and slid her body out from underneath. She tore her arrow out from the biter's head as it limply sagged to her earlier position. She checked her supply of arrows in her quiver. She only had four left. She could always grab them later, but in the heat of this situation, every shot had to count.
She laid low in the passenger's seat of the rusted Honda, and glanced meekly out the window. The walkers were far apart, making escape a tad less available. Before she bolted out of the car, more logic streamed to her brain. If she did happen to make it out and off the highway, it would be too dark to continue her liberation. Staying in the Honda would be her best decision.
Her stay in the Honda seemed like forever. The biters didn't seem to notice she was there, probably because she had a dead walker resting on top of her, covering her human scent. Finally, the sun began to rise above the horizon. The girl had dark circles under her eyes, and sleep was nagging at her eyelids. However, if she slept, that would mean a most certain death. Therefore, in the Honda she stayed, until the sky was blue, and it would be safe to escape. Not that soon any of that would even matter.
Groggily, the girl glanced out the window to see whether it was bright enough to make her move. Instead, she saw a torso, a walker torso. It then stopped, and bent over to look inside the car. The rotting skin billowed in the breeze and the pale, lifeless eyes darted about the interior of the car. It seemed to overlook the girl and it began to slowly, shuffle away. Her walkie-talkie began to connect and go off in short abrupt phases. "Kit. Hey, Kit. Where are you?" Kit smacked her receiver, as the sound of her comrade, Quinton, was blabbering away at the other end. The biter stopped shuffling, and bent down to look in the window again. It didn't take too long for it to decide though, as it's bony, corroding hand struck through the glass and grasped Kit's shirt. Kit shrieked, and reached for her cooking knife. She thrust it into the walker's eye, and tackled the monster onto the ground, stabbing it in the head repeatedly.
She pocketed the knife, and looked about at her situation. It was still too dim to leave the highway, yet there were now about ten of twelve biters whom she had attracted their attention. Panic-stricken, she pulled an arrow out of her quiver and strung it to her bow. From there on out, her situation was now ten times worse. Walkers were coming at every direction, and all she had now was her knife. There was no time to remove her arrows. All her targets were too far away, and the live ones were coming at increasing speeds. Kit removed the knife from her pocket and rammed the blade into a biter forehead. Another one came from behind her, but was only able to yank at her shirt until the knife was sent painfully to the brain. Kit yanked the blade out and biter blood splattered like paint all over her face and drenched hair. As much as she wanted to puke again, she swallowed what came up and ran towards one of the other walkers. She went for the head again. Successful, she searched for another weapon to back her up.
The other two walkers were a plenty distance away, so she raided the vehicles closest to her. She found enough drenched food to feed an entire country, and a few handy weapons. She took a liking to the small hatchet with a sky blue handle in the emergency storage in a beaten down Chevy Impala. She didn't look back, and sprinted all out at the monsters. Swift as a flash of lightning, she dug her knife into one's skull, as far as to the banana yellow handle, and flung the hatchet at the other, slicing right through its vertebrae in the neck. The biter's facial expression, frozen for the moment, bluntly bounced off the hard asphalt of the highway. She kicked the headless biter's body to the ground, and chopped off the arms and legs, so it would be unable to function. Out of adrenaline, she bashed in the other's head until it was no more than a stain on the callous, frigid, ground.
She sat next to the body, and her emotions ran rampant. Kit was no longer stable, at this moment at least. Everything around her slowed. Although at the same time, there wasn't anything to slow. Then there was.
A smooth, olive hand slowly reached down to her eye level. Her gaze darted up to see a face. The face was rather oval. Two almond brown eyes met hers, and stringy, chocolate-brown hair flowed down to the other girl's hip in the form of an intricate braid. The girl dressed in a black leather jacket, and tan jeans, torn like her own. The girl shoved her hand closer to Kit's, causing Kit to shuffle back a bit.
"Why should I trust you?" Kit snapped, as strongly as she could, although it barely came out as a meek whisper. The hand just approached closer to her. "Who are you?" Kit's eyes narrowed at the girl, and then the hand.
"Mercy. I am Mercy."