Rained Out Survivors
Disclaimer: I own nothing, as the zombies are George Romero's creations; not mine. The plot isn't even mine but the story is… Bella's the Rick Grimes of the story.
Prologue
Driving on the lone road as the sun peaked between the trees when the car began to sputter and stall, the tank was empty and I was running on fumes. Spotting an empty camp that looked like a battle ground-with over a dozen trashed cars, I pulled over while popping the trunk as I parked on the right shoulder-farther away from the forest-on the road.
Stepping out as I did, one hand on the handle of the door and the other on the safety and trigger of my stainless steel Colt Python on my brown leather gun belt always quiet and cautious in my steps; my movements were swift nowadays shutting the door barely a creek was heard as I picked up the bright red fuel tank from the back and shut the trunk quietly, same as the door.
Looking around as I rubbed then kissed the necklaces; an oval Sterling silver Virgin Mary pendant and a flat Sterling silver cross, the only thing I have now, leading me to tuck it my t-shirt under my flannel button up and olive-green military jacket. Fifteen minutes later, I stopped at a gas station when a slight breeze of the wind blew a sign on the metal poles my way,
'NO GAS'
Big, bold letters in black spray paint on stiff cardboard made my jaw clench when the shuffling of feet caught my attention away from the disappointment. Looking back and around until I saw a small, child-like figure in pink pajamas with white bear cubs on them, long dirty honey blonde hair in a fish-bone braid; a little girl who held a stuffed white-dirty-bear hanging limply by her side.
"Little girl," I spoke as she stopped but her back still to me "hey little girl, it's alright, I'm not going to hurt," she turned around as my words died in my throat as she looked at me with my hand out and a small smile that fell into a frowned at her face; the whites of her eyes were bloodshot as her iris held some blue-ish green film over them.
"Oh God," she wasn't a little girl anymore, she wasn't human not longer as she growled a gasping like way they all did all the while her small arms reached out to me as she limped over at me, her teddy bear forgotten "please, forgive me." I muttered as I pulled out my gun and fired, my eyes closed as the sound of her body thumping against the asphalt; down she went, never to get up again, knowing without looking-black blood dripped from her forehead.
Putting the safety back on as I pushed it back into the holster, walking away without a second glance, and back to the cars.
This is my life now; I woke up from a coma to this. Five months, two weeks and eight days ago I jumped from a cliff, now I'm diving head first into the unknown abyss.
My name is Isabella Marie Swan, and five days ago, this is the world I woke up to; unlike before, where life was a big misunderstanding after another, the rules are easy: don't get bit, and as always, survive.