Disclaimer: Do you really think that if I owned Zombieland I would be writing a fanfiction? Hell no. I would be working on Zland 2, and trying to convince Jesse Eisenberg to come back to the Zombie realm (he's not doing Zland 2 because he became too popular for a small movie like this after the Social Network. How dare he!).
Tallahassee stared out the windshield of the black SUV and focused on the abandoned highway in front of him. He glanced over at Wichita, who was driving, and flicked the Twinkie wrapper at her.
"Got another?" he grumbled, still a little mad at them for running off to Pacific Playland, which was like the headquarters of Zombieland.
"No, just that one. Sorry," she responded, and patted his arm lightly. "If it makes you feel better, I really wanted to eat that. But I gave it to you."
"That doesn't make me feel better." Tallahassee turned his head and looked into the backseat. Little Rock was staring out the window, her eyes slowly closing. Columbus was curled into a little ball, cuddling his gun like it was a teddy bear.
Tallahassee snorted. "The two babies."
Wichita laughed and pulled into the driveway of Bill Murray's house. "Home sweet temporary home."
"Temporary? Yeah, right." Tal snorted again and gently shook Little Rock awake.
Wichita stared at him a bit before stating, "You of all people should know that permanent is not an option while in Zombieland. Everything is temporary."
Tallahassee sighed and walked over to Columbus's car door. He opened it, making the tired Columbus tumble out onto the concrete.
"Ass." Columbus growled, then picked himself up and slouched into the house.
Wichita helped Little Rock to her feet and they followed Columbus into the house, Tallahassee close behind.
Tallahassee pulled off his cowboy boots and pursed his lips. "S'mores anyone?"
Little Rock smiled and ran to the kitchen to get the ingredients while Columbus headed outside to start a fire. Wichita ducked into the bathroom, leaving Tallahassee to himself. He walked up the stairs and passed by Bill's room. He sighed, removed his hat and bowed his head in respect and sadness for the legend.
"Dumb little fucker." He grumbled, referring to Columbus. He then continued on his way to one of the 9 guest bedrooms.
Once Tallahassee reached his destination, he took off his leather jacket and laid it down on the bed. He leaned his large gun against the wooden dresser and placed his hat on top of the bureau. He was just about to pull of his white cotton tee and change into something more comfortable for marshmallow-roasting when he heard a small tump coming from the bathroom.
Tallahassee snatched up his gun and whirled around, ready to shoot. The doorknob to the bathroom slowly turned, like it would in a movie. A body backed out of the bathroom, backwards. As soon as the person-or zombie- started to turn around…
…Tallahassee pulled the trigger.
A/N I made this only 440 words on purpose. I wanted a short intro because I wanted to get the point quickly, also I don't like writing long things and then finding out my story is no good. So yeah! Review!