"Eighty-nine bottles of vodka on the wall, eighty-nine bottles of vodka... Chug it down, kill a zombie, eighty-eight bottles of vodka on the wall..." Zoey half-heartedly sang in a slurred voice as she trudged through the mud and filthy water. "Where are they?" She wondered aloud, frowning.
It was never fun to be surprised, but it was rather funny, in a sick way, when the noise behind her only got louder and louder, and she spun around just in time to shoot the chest of a lurking hunter. The hooded infected had flung back in surprise, but stumbled around as it placed a clawed hand over it's chest in an attempt to catch the spewing blood. Zoey had taken the chance of shooting the distracted hunter again in the jaw, and the thing fell into the water with a cry.
Zoey sucked in the deepest breath she could take before she started shouting at the top of her lungs. "GUYS? CAN ANYBODY HEAR ME? … IT'D BE REAL NICE IF I HAD A RESPONSE FOR ONCE."
She paused abruptly when she heard other shouts. Zoey was confused on whether she had gone delusional in one hour of being by herself and started hearing voices, or she was actually listening to the screaming of other people. She shrugged over her mental debate, and began to run towards the source of the noises, dodging trees and uninterested infected.
"Hello?" She called loudly, running towards nothing. The noises stopped, and her heart sank. Oh come on.
Zoey cupped both hands around her mouth and took in another large amount of air. "Hey! I can't tell where you are!"
They COULD be too busy fighting off infected to shout for her.
"Zoey! Zoey, where are you?! ZOH-WEEY." Coach shouted, his deep voice carrying out and echoing around the group.
"Hey, I know it's probably not the best idea yet, but shouldn't we be LOOKING for her instead of standing around and yelling her name? If anything, she probably isn't even close enough anymore to hear us." Nick raised an eye brow slowly and crossed his arms together.
Ellis scoffed childishly. "You kidding? With Coach's voice, Atlanta can hear us."
"Look, I'm pretty sure that Coach has a loud voice. We all know that. Moving on. We need to actually try and find her."
Ellis bobbed his head around in a whole 'Seems legit' manner, and turned his bobbing into a straight nod. "Alright."
Nick turned to the rest of the group. "Okay, wanna move around?" He asked, hardly even waiting for an answer before continuing. "If anything, she would have been able to see us and would've walked right on back if she were still on the road. I suggest she might've been carried off to the woods over there." He said with a nod.
"Just a hunch." The conman finished.
Bill was sitting in the corner, on the porch of an old house with his chin in his hand. He sighed, bowing his head lower and stared at the ground in slow thinking.
I can't believe I lost her so quickly.
He stood up quickly in anger, seeking revenge on whoever would take her from his hands so suddenly.
"Then I suggest we leave NOW, kids." He started, and began walking off of the street. Who could've done this? Another charger? What if a jockey got her? What if- oh god... please don't be dead, Zoey!
If he saw her limp body with bruises and cuts all over her because he couldn't be there to save her, he didn't know what he'd be able to do.
"AH! Oh god, help!" Zoey thrashed about as a back-humper jumped on her. It whinnied and giggled as it clawed at the unfortunate woman's face, and she cried out in pain. "Owh! SHIT that hurts! Get off of me you freak!" She demanded pointlessly.
Zoey pulled at the jockey's arms, managing to get them away from her face, but only for a second before the tiny crab-like infected latched it's limbs back onto her skin. She grunted in frustration and pain and howled out when it's claws struck right below her eye. She threw her body back against a tree, cringing slightly at the sickening crunch of the jockey's hunched back. She pulled herself forward and slammed herself against the tree again, and the infected squealed as it fell to the floor.
Zoey gasped for air, falling into a half-bent position with her hands on her knees, and looked over at the twitching form beside her.
The thing is still alive?
She groaned as the infected twitched again and slightly laughed while it wheezed.
Moron.
She picked up her dropped weapon once again– the ground seemed to be the gun's favorite spot– and aimed it carefully at it's head. The infected stared at the barrel of the gun with yellow-red eyes, and she swallowed in disgust. She took a step back and pulled the trigger, barely missing the jockey's blood splatter.
Zoey sighed, turning on her heel and walking away from the mess.
Man, it was glad to be out of that water.
Zoey shivered slightly as a small breeze blew on her soaked legs, but she shook it off. She searched her pockets for any clips left, and sighed slowly when she realized she was using her last one. She slid it open to check how many bullets were left and bit her bottom lip when she saw only six left. She'd have to use them carefully.
Zoey had run out of ammo in her two pistols a while back and tossed them to the side when she found no use for them. Her fists and leg strength will have to do for now.
She looked up at the sky to find that it was already night. The young woman frowned, not taking a liking to the idea of being alone out here in the dark.
"... Hellooooo..." She called out, swamp water dripping from her bruised and cold legs. Her teeth chattered as she bent down to roll up her pants and squeeze some of the cold liquid out. Zoey let her rifle drop to the ground and she sat next to it, grunting at the slight paint the bending gave her.
Her eyes were focused on her shoes and the water falling around it, when a small flash of lightening lit up the sky briefly. She looked up to examine the road, and gasped when another bolt lit her surroundings and exposed a human body standing in the middle of the road.
Staring at her. Watching her.
Goosebumps ran down her spine, and she watched with wide eyes as the place where the short person was standing became empty as another light came and went.
"... I need to get out of this storm..." She told herself, and got up to rush towards a house on the corner of the street, completely forgetting her weapon. She ran towards the dimly lit porch, but stopped dead in her tracks when a loud snap sounded off slightly behind the building.
"..." Was she supposed to respond?
"... Hehh... lo?"
A deafening crack of thunder echoed around her, and more lightening lit up the dark. Zoey gasped when she saw a man with his head ducked down, his hat shadowing over a large portion of his face. He stepped forward slowly, his steel-toed boots clacking on the pavement silently. He edged closer to her, and Zoey backed away for distance.
"... Who..-"
"Ya lost little missy?" A southern accent invaded her hearing, and everything suddenly went black.