I screamed as I felt myself be dragged back through the small horde and towards the Smoker. I curled my arms protectively around my midsection and face, knowing there would be no use in struggling against a smoker's tongue and screamed "Son of a BITCH, Marissa get it OFF!" to the only other human being that might be in the Savannah.
I see her whip around and threw a pipe bomb down the road to my left. The horde, as expected, chases after it with mindless haste and I let my arms drop to my sides scrambling to find something to hold in an attempt to slow down my unwanted trip to the Smoker. I look up to see Marissa chasing after me shooting her double D-eagles above my head.
Finally after what seemed like a lifetime I feel the binding tongue loosen and hear the faint 'puff' of a Smoker dissipating. I tug the leftover tongue off me, stand up, and walk to my discarded gun that lay several feet away from me. "No matter how many times that happens, I will never get used to how slimy that feels." I shudder with disgust and Marissa gives me a small smile.
"That's what she-"
"No, she didn't say anything!" I place my hand over her mouth and glare playfully. I feel her grin underneath my hand. She pulls back, wiggles her eyebrows and teases, "That's what he said!"
I try to throw my hands in the air as she cackles but when they get chest high, a bolt of pain washes though my chest and I gasp. Marissa instantly stops her cackle and gives me a worried look. I grasp my chest with one hand and wave her away with the other. When I finally manage to breath without to much pain I grin sheepishly and stand up from my crouch.
"I hate Tanks." I say simply and she just shakes her head at me. About two days prior to today we had been attacked by a Tank in a warehouse where we had been holding up in. We hadn't found a safe house in days so our supplies were low enough, after the attack they were almost nonexistent. Anyway we didn't have any med-kits so we had been sporting around our injuries from the Tank, My ribs and her ankle, ever since.
"The safe house should be around here somewhere.." She trails off as she pulls out our own handmade map we had copied down from the last abandoned CEDA air evac station. Speaking of CEDA, fuck them. Little pain in the asses were never there or always get infected somehow. I glare slightly at the road as I put in the last clip of ammo into my AK, holster it, and pull out a machete I had found laying in the road. "Is it on there or what?" I mutter and ignore the strange look Marissa shoots me because of my quick change in mood.
"Yeah, should be right down this alley, then we need to turn right, then left, and it should be right there." She places a hand on my shoulder silently communicating to me that we'll make it, and begins to limp forward towards the ally.
"...And it should be right here!" She says exuberantly pointing to a small house with the unmistakeable door that screams safe house. She smirks smugly and looks at me. I smile softly and pull out my AK and begin to slowly creep my way towards the door listening carefully for any noise.
We had learned the hard way to always triple check the safe house before letting our guards down as soon as we walk in the door about three days after the infection began. I let Marissa walk into a bedroom unarmed in a safe house only to walk in to find a man straddling her waist and and trying force her mouth shut. Nothing happened of course, I put a slug in his head as soon as I realized what was happening, but it was a big enough scare to make us wary of all safe houses.
We began to creep in the doorway when we hear nothing but suddenly I hear the soft cocking of a gun behind us and I whip around to find two pistols aimed at both me and Marissa's head.
"Now, I don' mean to be rude or nothin' but ya'll gonna have to drop your guns so we can talk to to you without fear of bein' shot for supplies." A soft southern drawl rolls out of the man holding the guns to our heads. I can't help myself as I put him into the atractive scale with his everything but he definitely wasn't my type. I feel my mood worsen and attempt to pull a small blade out of a small holster on my wrist but feel a hand grip my wrist in a steel vice.
"Don't even think about it sweetheart," Murmurs a smooth voice in my ear and my hand relflexively drops my gun lightly on the floor. I notice Marissa has done the same and feel frustrated tears rise in my eyes.