Click.
A small hand reached back into the box of shotgun shells.
Click.
Two. Six more.
Click.
The young boy looked off to his right. His sister had her shoulder pressed up against the front door.
Something was pounding on it from the other side.
Click.
He heard a familiar voice, grizzled and raspy. Grunkle Stan.
The voice gurgled and moaned from the other side of the fortified door.
Click.
Nails scattered onto the floor. A board came loose.
Click.
The boy shot an anxious look at the girl.
His hand scrambled for another shell.
Click.
Just one more-
Click.
The door's hinges snapped loose from its frame, collapsing onto the girl, a writhing mass of blood-stained, pasty colored skin pinning her down.
Mabel let out a terrified scream. Dipper struggled to pump the shotgun.
What was left of Stan craned its head towards Dipper. It let out a gurgling moan, blood frothing out of the massive gash in its throat. An ear-splitting blast, and the man's head exploded. The shotgun's recoil nearly knocked Dipper off his feet.
Mabel began to get up from under the blood-stained, wooden debris, but another creature was already coming through the doorway. This time, a large man, with dark, clotted blood dripping out from where its lower jaw used to be. Its eyes locked with Dipper's, and its strained groaning peaked in intensity.
Its torso exploded in a shower of bone fragments and rancid meat, spraying the two walking corpses behind it, who quickly began to take its place. Again, Dipper pumped the shotgun, another empty shell clattering onto the floor, joining the first. Another blast, and another creature fell, its leg severed at the hip.
Mabel stood up on shaky legs and prepared to run, but was soon dragged back down by a cold, rotting hand. A jawless torso gripped her leg with one arm, crawling towards her with the other. The girl uttered a panicked yell for help.
Dipper ejected another shell, then attempted to aim the shotgun at the crawling creature, the weapon shaking in his grip. As he fired, he felt a sharp pain in his wrist, involuntarily jerking the barrel to his right. A woman's midsection disappeared in a cloud of red mist.
His wrist now broken and useless, Dipper dropped the gun and sprinted over to his sister. He grabbed an outstretched hand with his good arm and began to pull with all his strength... but they were too strong, too many. Slowly, Mabel was being dragged into the growing crowd of the undead. Dipper tried to gain a foothold, but it wasn't enough. More lifeless hands latched onto the girl, dragging her further and further.
Dipper wouldn't let go. Tears in his eyes, he strained, pulled with everything he had.
Mabel called out to Dipper. She told him to go, to leave him, to run. Dipper shook his head frantically, and kept pulling. Mabel repeated herself, now yelling at the boy. For a moment, Dipper stood motionless. He looked around, scanning for an exit. They were coming through the windows now, pouring through every possible entrance. His eyes came to rest on the staircase. There was only one way to go. Up.
Tears still flowing, he looked back at Mabel. He said he was sorry, so sorry, then, reluctantly... he let go. Dipper looked away as his sister, his friend disappearing into the growing mass of writhing, dead flesh.
Dipper turned around and ran, ran as fast as he could, ignoring the terrible pain in his wrist, until everything was a blur. Next thing he knew, he was in his bedroom, back against the locked door, chest heaving as he panted heavily. He could hear them just outside, wet slabs of meat sloughing off as they dragged themselves up the stairs.
He looked around, again searching for a method of escape.
The window.
Dipper hurried to the window and smashed it out with the butt of the shotgun and looked down. It wasn't a long drop, and the bushes would soften the impact, but it would still hurt.
His feet dangled out first. There wasn't too much time now. They were at the door.
Bang. Rip. Snap. The door was smashed down, and the horde pushed themselves through the doorframe. It was now or never, the pain that could follow or not.
Dipper pushed out. The rush of air distracted him from a second blur of color below him, red and green.
"OW!"
"Shit!"
Someone cursed loudly as Dipper slammed his feet on top of them. He fell over, landing on his back as the person collapsed in front of him. Red hair spilled past the teenagers shoulders and face. She was quick though, spinning on the ground, and scrambled away, staring at Dipper with bright green eyes.
"Dipper!" Wendy Corduroy gasped, pushing herself to a stop, and clawing her way to him. "Dipper, what the heck?" she angrily scolded him at first.
"Wendy," Dipper tried saying her name, his voice shaking. There were too many things to be said, too many things to be asked.
"Hey," her voice calmed, soothing Dipper as she scanned around her. Dipper quickly followed her gaze, and saw shadows skulking closer in the light of the Mystery Shack lights. "Hey, get up dude. We can get out of this. C'mon," Wendy kneeled before him, and offered her hand.
"I'm sorry-"
"Not now," Wendy shook her head, "you can give me a massage for my back after this, "she told him as she lifted him up. Dipper nodded and felt the tiniest reassurance only a confident leader could inspire, "let's get your sister and anyone else who's not one of these bastards."
Dipper finally stood, and was ready to fall again.
His sister.
Mabel.
"She's..."
"Move!" Wendy pulled him away, and they ran over towards the darkened forest lining, hiding just behind the outhouse. "Okay, one sec," Wendy told Dipper, adjusting something unseen behind her, and then she kneeled to be level with him again "okay. Now, what was it?"
"Mabel's dead."
He had a moment of clarity as he informed her. It wasn't that he had just let his sister go. Dipper was never going to see his sister again. Ever. The only thing left was memories, and should the horde be kind enough to her body, a shambling flesh-eating monster resembling his loving Mabel. There was nothing but pain as his throat choked.
"Oh my god," Wendy's closed her eye lids tightly. She cupped her hand to her face, covering her tightly locked beautiful eyes. Dipper couldn't afford the strength to attempt holding the tears back. Silently he wept for the only person in his life that had been there for him more than anyone else.
"They got her," Dipper croaked, his vocal cords trembling, unable to speak properly.
"Dipper, I'm... I'm so sorry."
Wendy reached out, and pulled the tear stricken boy close to her. He felt her arms around him, tightly clutching his shoulders as she squeezed him. Something wet hit the fabric of his vest, soaking into his shoulders. Then she pushed away, wiping away at her face, and she looked into his eyes, pouring that grand strength she always held on reserved for Dipper.
"We're getting out of this, you got me?" Wendy quietly told him, "we're going to get into Stan's stupid car and we'll drive our way out of here. I can hotwire it and we can get the hell outta here."
"O-okay," Dipper nodded, sniffling as he let out a trembling sigh.
"Bud," Wendy told him, holding onto his shoulders, "we're in this together now. Okay? Us." Dipper nodded again. "No more guns- that just attracts more of them. If one get's in the way, get a shovel or something."
"Okay. I'm ready," Dipper nodded.
"Stay close," Wendy said as she stood. Dipper turned around the side of the outhouse. There were a few of those walking corpses, turned away and looking inside the building. Dipper managed to check on the window he had leapt out of: the group of flesh eaters had started looking outside, groaning and moaning their way around.
Wendy waved for him to follow, sticking to the forest edge. There, across the parking space was the lone red car.
Wendy crept low, constantly shifting her gaze between the walkers and the car, checking their progress closer to their one real means of transportation. They could see their image reflected on the side of the polished car, they were so close.
Wendy made for the vehicle in a quick burst, and opened the side door. Her luck would not suit them well- a large figure appeared on the other side, growling and clawing for them as it walked around. One of those monsters had spotted them.
"Shit!" Wendy shouted, uncertain what to do. She was halfway in the car. Dipper wasn't close enough to jump in yet.
"Wendy!" Dipper called, louder than he wanted. The single walker turned it's gaze to him, and Dipper heard similar growls behind him. He had alerted them to his presence. "Just get it started! I'll keep them busy!"
"Dipper!" Wendy shouted, but Dipper refused to let her defend him any more. He needed to play hero just for a bit. Just for the time being. He charged forward and slammed the side door shut, and leapt aside as the figure swiped for him.
"Get it started! I'll-"
Dipper's mouth fell open. The figure, still stumbling towards him with his mouth hung open, was Soos.
"No, Soos," Dipper gasped, crawling backwards. The entire stomach of the poor handyman had been split open, revealing still dark crimson innards that had been torn out and left hanging hap-hazard from his wide tear. There was no recognition to Dipper in Soos's eyes, as had been with everyone else who Dipper had seen before becoming one of them.
Behind him more of them tumbled closer. His hands grasped behind him, trying to stand himself up. Instead he found something smooth and cylindrical.
A shovel.
This is for the zombies, a familiar, friendly voice rang through Dipper's head.
"You would have wanted me to stop you," Dipper told the lurching body of his former friend. Dipper grasped the shovel as best he could, trying to swallow the pain in his wrist and fingers. He stumbled around the former Soos. The man was easily twice as tall as Dipper, but a shovel would close that distance.
He had treated Dipper like a friend from the moment they met.
Dipper took a step backwards, his feet wide apart. The car next to him spluttered, but refused to turn on.
Soos had never asked Dipper for anything, but always helped him.
Dipper readied his arms, a swing prepared. Car lights flickered into the dark night around him.
Soos considered the twins like extended family. Never once as anything other than best friends.
Dipper swung as hard as he could manage.
The edge of the shovelhead split across Soos's neck, slashing open the neck viciously. Metal bit into the spine, imbedding itself deep into the nerves that allowed the body to operate past death. Soos halted, a Shovel buried into the side of his throat, and fell to the side, twitching.
More were coming. Dipper saw their silhouettes against the remaining light of the Mystery Shack, stumbling closer. His hands were raw and torn from the swing, and the shovel was clearly locked into bone and marrow. He was defenseless.
"DIPPER!"
The side door swung open again, and Wendy waved to rush in. The El Diablo was running.
Dipper took his feet and darted past the closest zombie and threw himself into the car. Struggling to find a seat, he scrambled to close the door behind him.
Click.
The door locked in place just as the undead around him clambered onto the car. Clawing at the glass, climbing onto the back window, they wanted in.
"Hold on!" Wendy shouted, the car ready for action, she put the gear from parked to four wheel, and slammed on the gas. One zombie fell to the lurching car's forward momentum, quickly crushed and left a puddle of rotting blood and guts in its wake.
"We're getting out?" Dipper asked, sliding a seatbelt over his body as the car started making it's first turn.
"Yeah!" Wendy hollered, almost bouncing in her seat, elated to survive the encounter. The engine roared with triumph, speeding ahead. "We're getting out of this! WE'RE GETTING OUT-"
There had still been one on the ceiling. It slipped down the front of the car, unable to stop itself. Wendy screamed along with Dipper, and she tried slamming on the breaks. The dirt road was mixed with blood as the zombie hit the ground and was pinned between tires and gravel. The El Diablo wouldn't stop moving.
Off the path. Into the woods.
BOOM.
Dipper felt an explosion of air near his face. The world had gone from zooming to entirely still in a split second. His chest ached, probably from the pull the seatbelt as the car slammed into a tree.
"Wendy?" Dipper asked. No response.
He turned to the driver side. She wasn't there.
There was a small hole through the window, split glass and slivers of blood running down the sides of fissures in the windshield. Looking past the shattered window, Dipper saw a figure pulling itself up against a tree.
"No," Dipper scrambled to undo himself from the seatbelt.
Click.
He was free, and managed to push open the door. Walking along side of the blockading tree, Dipper found the last survivor of the night along side himself.
"Dipper," Wendy groaned. Huge gashes torn across her face and arms, blood pouring from her incisions freely. One of her arms had a fractured bone protruding from the side, piercing out of her morbidly like a malformation. Her eyes fluttered, staring at him.
"Wendy!" Dipper gasped, running and sliding to be aside her.
What could he do? What magic could undo this damage? What god could send a miracle to save her? What devil would Dipper have to make a deal with to save Wendy?
Strong Wendy. Survivor Wendy. Dying Wendy.
His Wendy.
"I... I don't know what to do," Dipper managed to splutter, more tears falling down his face, refusing to look anywhere on her but her eyes. Blood splattered on her face, and her already pale skin was growing paler.
She was bleeding out.
"Hey," Wendy's still functioning arm shaking reached out, and after a struggling moment, landed a hand on his head, "I'll let your sister... know you never gave up."
"Wendy, please don't leave me."
"I can't go anywhere else, buddy," Wendy told him.
"I don't want you to go away," Dipper cried, starting to hold her hand against his cheek.
"I'd promise you I wouldn't go," Wendy managed, her eyes starting to close, "but I could never lie to my... my man," Wendy chuckled to Dipper, and gasped. "Oh... oh boy."
"Wendy?" Dipper asked.
Her eyes lost their light. She was gone.
Dipper bellowed, a crushed, beaten, broken heart tearing into the horrible night as the last person who he could have hoped to escape with died in front of him. The girl he trusted with his life.
The girl he loved.
Dipper fell back. There was no where else now. No one left to rely on. The world was ending, and he was the last person to see it all collapse before the inevitable took hold.
Feeling drained from him. Dipper felt the acceptance; of struggling for life becoming obsolete.
No more.
Dipper slowly made his way over to Wendy's body and sat down, staring blankly at the ground. He felt numb. Empty.
Suddenly, he noticed an old revolver in the back of Wendy's jeans. He pulled it out, the blank, lifeless look never leaving his face.
Absentmindedly, he slid the cylinder out from the gun. One bullet.
The number echoed through his otherwise empty mind.
Just one bullet, he thought.
He slid the cylinder back into the pistol with a click.
Just one bullet.
He heard the groaning approach rapidly. It sounded like a full hoard.
Just one bullet. The phrase began to lose meaning.
He pulled the revolver's hammer back with his good thumb.
Just one bullet.
He saw seven of them shuffle towards him, out of the corner of his eye.
Just one bullet.
Dipper felt the barrel press against his temple. He could smell their breath.
Just. One. Bullet.
He began to squeeze the trigger.
Just one-
A wave of incredible pain shot through Dipper's skull. For a moment, his senses were completely overwhelmed, his ears ringing and head throbbing with a splitting headache. But then, he heard... music. It was... oddly familiar. Suddenly, he recognized it; it was from a movie, probably a favorite of his, but... what, exactly? And why was it playing now? Shouldn't he be, you know, dead? Perplexed, he forced his eyes open, immediately focusing them on the source of the noise.
The end credits to 'Night of the Living Dead' scrolled down the TV screen.
Dipper stared silently for a moment, processing the situation... then chuckled quietly, part relief, part wry amusement. He picked himself up off the floor - undoubtedly having fallen off the recliner moments before - and, rubbing the newly-formed lump on his head, looked around at the shards of the glass bowl of snacks he had apparently brought with him. Just as he began to consider exactly how pissed Grunkle Stan would be, (and exactly what he'd do to avoid having to clean up his mess) he noticed another noise, just barely audible over the TV. He immediately recognized the girl snoring. Just to his left, sprawled lazily on the recliner. Wendy lay, her chest heaving slightly as she snored softly, a small puddle of drool collecting under her.
Dipper smiled slightly. He knew what he had was just a stupid dream... but it was still a relief to see his friend not being eaten alive by rotting corpses.
For a moment, Dipper considered waking Wendy up, maybe getting her to help clean up the shattered bowl, then heading up to his nice, cozy bed... but he just didn't have the heart to disturb the girl. And, besides, cleaning up would be the responsible thing to do.
He saw the blanket laying on the side of one of the kitchen chairs. Walking towards it, he pulled it down, and draped it over the sleeping girl's figure.
Shrugging, Dipper brushed a few crumbs off the recliner, clearing away a little spot for himself. He hopped onto the armrest and lay back, closing his eyes.
In the sudden absence of thought and vision, images from his nightmare poured back into his mind: his sister being dragged off to be eaten alive; Stan's face, with loose, wet flesh hanging from his cheeks; the bedroom door finally snapping under the weight of a half-dozen walking cadavers, Wendy's dying face, the pain of that one bullet, and once again, the terrified face of a young girl facing a horrifying, inevitable death. Somehow, that image, the sensation of releasing his grip, abandoning Mabel to her death, the horrible realism of it all... that was the worst. He couldn't get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried.
Thus, he lay there for several minutes, fitfully and futilely attempting to drift off to sleep. Finally, he gave up, and opened his eyes... which immediately focused on the still figure across the recliner. Once again, he was aware of Wendy's presence, and, suddenly, he felt... safe. The images in his head disappeared, his body calmed, and his eyelids grew heavy.
Once again, Dipper drifted off to sleep.
Wendy rubbed her eyes, waiting a moment for them to adjust to the relatively blinding light in front of her. She sighed. Dipper left the TV on.
She reached out a hand, groggily groping around for the remote. Wooden table... cushion... boy... boy? She looked to her side and saw Dipper proped up against the armrest. She smiled as she noticed the blanket laying across her. Suddenly, she didn't know why, but she placed an arm around her young friend and pulled him in close. She felt... Safe. Protected. The boy shifted and absentmindedly snuggled in close to her. She chuckled. Out of a small gut feeling, she lifted his cap and placed a small kiss on his head. He sighed as she saw a gentle smile appear on his face. "Goodnight, Dipper."
Now where was... Ah, remote.
Without hesitation, she pointed the remote towards the glowing plastic box.
Click.
Had you guys going there, didn't I? I actually almost cried writing this out. And the scene with Wendy that EZB did . . . . *Sniffs loudly* It's just so feel-y!
Anyway, this was the first, and hopefully not the last, story that I introduced for a series of, well oneshots! Hopefully you enjoyed it just as much as I did! And don't worry, more are coming, and requests are open. Just, try to refrain from Pinecest, please. Anything else is fair game. Thanks again to EZB for all the help and remember to stay awesome, and I will see YOU . . . in the next chapter. Bye-bye! (No, I'm not Markiplier. I just love that saying!)