One of my goals this year is to write a little every day. So, I've taken a page from the lovely Piccolo is Green and am trying my hand at a "drabble-fic", of which she is the queen.
(Note: I miiiight've been watching too many Walking Dead reruns on Netflix recently.)
...
Tearing back a small section of curtain, Bulma Brief chanced a glance outside. Spiky pine threw jagged shade across her lawn and the outlying buildings of the Capsule Corps compound. She inhaled and let the curtain fall back into place. It was noon, when the sun was at its peak, and though it was an unusually warm spring for West City, a shiver snaked down her spine.
"What do you think?" her mother said. Her voice was sheathed in a whisper, but it carried the same volume as her regular voice. Bulma had tried to stress the point that Lurkers were attracted to sound, but to no avail.
She propped a shotgun on her shoulder and replied, "There's a CB radio in Building 3. I think I can get to it."
"Do you think…" Her mother gave an audible swallow, her hands shaking at her sides. "Do you think there's anyone else out there?"
Bulma took another peek at the lawn, her eyes narrowing on Building 3. "If we've made it, there are others. West City itself might be compromised, but there are survivors." There had to be. "We need the CB."
"Be careful, Bulma."
She almost laughed. Instead, she steadied her shotgun and started across the yard. She'd taken out most of the lab workers who had Turned days ago, but there was always a chance that new Lurkers had made their way here.
As soundlessly as possible, Bulma tiptoed across the lawn. She wasn't strong or even a very good shot, but she was smart. And she'd had some time to prepare. Eight days ago the Center for Disease Control had contacted her father for an emergency task force. He'd packed up his things in a fit of excitement, telling Bulma all about the thrilling opportunity for genetic research and experimental remedies for pandemic plagues. Bulma had watched her father, feeling a sharp pang of confusion. When she'd asked for a clear answer, he'd only said that the Turnings they were hearing about on the news - mostly in far away, outlying towns - was spreading quickly. They wanted to employ a team to find a cure.
She hadn't heard from him since. But she had secured the place, readied medical supplies, and brought out her grandfather's hunting armory because it seemed better than sitting on her hands, waiting for the inevitable.
And the inevitable did happen. In a matter of days, the plague spread to the cities. The horrifying effects snowballed and then it was too late.
Bulma leaned against the curved stucco of Building 3. She listened for something, anything, but heard only silence. With a steady breath, she pulled open the door, its creaking metal alerting any Lurkers in the area that she was there. She waited, her pulse pounding in her ears. Still there was nothing. So she entered the building, shotgun drawn, moving the weapon back and forth, back and forth like she'd seen done on all those frightening movies Yamcha took her to see, to get her close in hopes of feeling her up. The inside of the building remained largely untouched. Papers sat in neat stacks on desks. Unturned waste baskets half full of rubbish. The CB radio perched on its shelf. Bulma plucked the clunky device from the metal case and turned on her heel. And then she heard it. The pulsing alarm signalling that the gates to CC had been breached.
"Shit," she cursed. And with the radio tucked in the crook of one arm, she quickly rushed from Building 3 and out into the sunny courtyard. Her eyes flashed around the walled premises for any sign of movement. She watched a single hand grip the top of her wall, and then a second.
She raised her shotgun, but her mind raced. How. It would take an exceptional athlete to climb that wall. Certainly no Lurker she'd come across was capable. They were weak, slow. She followed the figure through the sights of her gun, and then nearly dropped the weapon when a familiar hairstyle peeked over the brick followed by a familiar face.
"Holy crap," she rasped. "Goku."