Trapped in the Dark
CHAPTER TWO
Gorillaz are NOT mine! They belong to Mr. Hewlett, and he is certainly a genius, that one.
By the way I wanted to say sorry because I've made the characters slightly OOC, but I just wanted Murdoc to be like, totally badass and 2-D to be a total wreck. I've tried to make them as close to their actual personalities as I could, though, I promise!
"D'you have guns or somethin'?" Murdoc demanded.
"Uh-uh geez, I unno Muds-"
"WELL YA BLOODY HELL BEST GET LOOKIN', EY DULLARD?"
2-D let out a shrill squeal and tensed up momentarially. He then began rooting through his possessions that littered the floor, hoping to find a weapon of some sort.
"I c-can't find anyfink, I don't h-have guns!" 2-D stammered.
Murdoc slapped his dark hand over his own forehead, and slowly wiped it down his face in disgust, snarling at the younger man. He was about to punch him painfully in the back of the head when they heard the banging noises get suddenly louder, followed by muffled shouts of someone (or something) with a deep, booming voice. The voice came from the door.
" 'S just 'nother one of them bloody zombies!" the older male bellowed over the noise. "Ya find anythin' yet?"
"N-No sir!" Stu replied, his hands shaking and head throbbing. All this noise was giving him a serious headache.
"I've had enough of this fucking BANGING!" Murdoc yelled.
He fired his weapon upwards, tearing an immense hole in the ceiling. Concrete and dust tumbled around the older man and on the floor around him. The sickening sound of flesh being squished and smashed apart told him he had been right on target. A small amount of blood trickled from the opening.
"Got the damn bugger," he declared.
2-D grabbed the sides of his head in pain, gritting his teeth. He moaned quietly from the aching and when Murdoc saw that he had quit searching, he got pissed. He snarled for a moment and yelled in Stu's ears.
"Get looking, get looking!" Murdoc commanded.
Suddenly, his mismatched eyes grew wide. Staring at the ceiling in disgust, he saw rotting hands clutch the sides of the opening, and multiple zombies pulled themselves up to it. Their mouths were open wide and bearing fangs.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!"
The man reloaded his gun sloppily, firing upwards again, wiping the creatures' heads clean off. They weren't the brightest things. Droplets of liquid scarlet splashed on the dusty floor and on Murdoc's cheek. Through the deafening noise, he kept focused on the hole in the ceiling. He had the overwhelming urge to blow the brains out of the zombies scratching at the walls, but knew that he'd be as good as dead if he made more openings there. The loud banging at the door became more feirce, and whatever it was, it's voice sounded more urgent, and the bangs became panicked.
Murdoc found himself low on ammo. "Bloody hell, I don't care anymore! Lets get the fuck out of here!"
He grabbed 2-D roughly by the shoulders, and dragged him over to the door. He unlocked it, kicked it violently open, and fired again at whatever was behind the door. It was when he saw his drummer holding his arm in pain that Murdoc took back his cautious actions.
"Ah, sorry mate." he said blankly.
"The fuck, man! Christ, what th' hell did I do ta deserve this shit?" Russel boomed angrily.
"Said I was sorry, mate." Murdoc replied nervously, patting the barrel of his shotgun. "Ya run into them buggers too?"
"You fucking shot a gash in my arm, dude!" Russel protested, "But yeah, I fought off a couple 'them dickheads."
Russel turned, and motioned his head toward a smelly pile of corpses he had most likely beaten the snot out of. A small, triumphant grin was seen through the agony in his expression. The dimly lit parking lot was most likely crawling with them. Murdoc knew that they had to find Noodle; she could easily take out a couple of creepers on her own, but with as many that were staggering around tonight, one couldn't be too sure. Murdoc pointed his gun briefly towards the lift.
"We've gots ta find Noods," 2-D agreed, reading Murdoc's face.
Murdoc nodded, and was about to take a step when he felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, as if he had just been harshly smacked.
"Bloody hell?" he scowled.
"Tha's for fuckin' up my arm, yo." Russel smirked.
Thas' gunna bruise later, Murdoc thought to himself. He began to strut towards the elevator with a quick pace. The drummer and vocalist followed closely behind. As the door opened, a zombie lunged at the older male slowly with claws outstretched. The three let out short gasps of surprise as Murdoc whacked the beast with the butt of his gun, knocking him out. He stepped in and waited patiently for the rest, unconsious zombie at his side.
"What're you gits waitin' for?" Murdoc growled.
2-D and Russel stepped in hesitantly, being careful not to step on the carcass.
"This thing dead?" Russel questioned.
"Naw."
"I'ma god damned make it dead."
With this, the drummer lifted a heavy foot and stomped on the corpse's head violently, squashing it like a melon. Blood and brains were painted on the walls, Russel, Murdoc and 2-D. The vocalist cringed at the wetness on his expensive clothes, whilst the other two stood immobile. Russel grasped his injured arm again.
Just when the lift was suppost to come to a hault and let the entrance open wide, something went wrong. The members felt the elevator give a violent jolt to the left, the right, and it stopped. They waited patiently for the doors to slide out of the way, however they did not receive an answer. Russel pressed his oversized finger to the 'open' button. The exit stayed firmly shut.
"Well, shit." Murdoc swore.
"This thing must be stuck." Russel declared.
"Naw, Russ, s'just choked up fer a bit. Damn thing should get workin' again soon."
2-D trembled in fear. "B-But, but wha' if 's not gunna get movfink again? A-An' we'll be stuck in here jus' like in th' freaky movies!"
"Naw, naw." Murdoc disagreed, poking the ceiling with his weapon.
Abruptly, the ceiling was torn apart by dead hands from the other side of the metal. A familiar event. Two or three zombie faces pulled themselves up to the opening like before, bearing teeth and drooling all over the place. Murdoc glanced nervously at his ammo bag, now only half full. He decided that Noodle must've had some kind of bullets in her domain.
He fired wildy at the ceiling, tearing apart further portions and grazing the interior of the elevator shaft. The zombies tumbled backward and plumetted down the sides. Murdoc decided that they must've cleared out, and nodded to the others. The vocalist was crouched in a corner with his hands over his ears. The repeated blasts had given him an overpowering migrane.
"We gotta get th' hell outta 'ere!" the bassist exclaimed.
"No shit, asshole." Russel swore.
"We're gunna be dead fuckers if we stay n' this piece of shit." Murdoc pointed out. " 'Specially with Russ an' his weight!"
The drummer grasped Murdoc by the collar of his muscle shirt, and lifted him off the ground. "I promise ya, anythin' like that happens, I bring ya down with me, yo."
The lift gave a violent jolt. One of the cords was beginning to snap. Russel dropped the older man painfully on the elevator floor, and glanced up at the cords.
"We could get up on th' cords," Murdoc suggested, "an' jump out to th' door after I shoot the living shit outta it."
"I-I u-unno, Muds, I ain't strong 'nuff for this kinda fing.." 2-D stuttered.
"Get the fuck out of this, RIGHT. NOW." Russel bellowed, and Stu trembled in reply.
The larger man picked up Murdoc roughly by the waist and chucked him through the hole with a mighty push. The bassist grabbed hold of the cord with his free hand. Murdoc shot impatiently at the closed entrance to the first floor, breaking it open successfully. The first floor could be clearly seen through the opening. Next was 2-D, who shivered and stammered about, not wishing to go through with any of this. The drummer flung him upwards with little effort. 2-D struggled to grab on to the cord, and when he failed, Murdoc gripped the collar of his stained tee and held him there.
Stuart grasped the collar of his own shirt as well, to prevent himself from choking. " 'Ey Russ, 'ow're you supposta get up 'ere, then?" he yelled in a panicked tone.
The drummer began to climb out of the hole in the ceiling, when the elevator gave another violent jolt. The cord was fraying to a further extent, and would no doubt bust apart soon. Russel swore angrily and kept his grip on the opening.
"Almost..there...!"
Just when Russel about grasped the cord, the elevator gave out another violent lurch, and it snapped. Murdoc and 2-D were abruptly propelled upwards, while the drummer plumetted downwards, stuck in the lift. The youngest man let out a horrified, feminine screech. The bassist took a leap for his makeshift entrance, dragged Stuart with him, and landed painfully (however safely) on the first floor.
The two watched in horror as their beloved drummer became smaller and smaller to their eye. He did not scream, but held his position in the opening of the lift.
"Hey!" their drummer yelled, "Don't cry, man, okay?"
At his final word, the lift was heard crashing at the shaft's floor, and Russel was lost in blackness.