Had a bit of a 'tense' problem in the first chapter. Don't worry, I believe I've rectified it in this one.
Chapter 2: A Little Talking Never Hurt
It was around half an hour past midnight when I awoke to the sounds of rattling and shaking. The car shook with unyielding force, knocking me aside into Little Rock, who by the way is a really sound sleeper. Our collision causes her to jump out of her seat, banging her head against the roof of the SUV. I shake my head, despite the rowdy awakening. She wonders what it is with me and seatbelts. Well, now she knows. Taking my mind off towards the event at hand, I peer out of the SUV's tinted window. It was hard to see due to the shading of the night sky, but from what my eyes could make out, we were still on the road. What's causing the bumping then? I look towards Wichita, though she's still asleep as well. I guess it runs in the family. I turn towards Tallahassee, but, before I can say anything, he speaks.
"Don't be so jumpy." He says, a crooked smile on his face.
"Jumpy!" I shout, incredulously. "The car is shaking! Can't you feel it?"
"Yeah, I can!"
"Well then, what do you think it is?"
"Take a look at the ground and you'll find out."
I do so and quickly verify the source of the shaking. I should have known. Bodies. Lots of dead bodies. I shudder, the bristles of hair on my skin spiking up to lethal points. The bodies were mutilated, torn to shreds by the zombies. Children, adults, old people, fat people… They had all been eaten, spit out, ripped…
"I know that zombies aren't the friendliest creatures around but… How could they do something like this?" I say, shaking my head in disgust.
"Stupid spit-fuck says what?" Tallahassee remarks with scrutiny. "Those are zombies."
"Wait-What?" I look again. Tallahassee was right. They are zombies. Dead zombies, that is. But how did they get there? They don't look too starved to me… As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I knew. Those holes, which I initially mistook for skin ripped to shred by zombies, were bullet holes. There were more survivors! We weren't the only ones.
"Tallahassee! You know what this means?" I was bubbling with excitement. "There's—"
"Wrong again."
"But I didn't finish."
"So?"
"So… Anyways-"
"Wrong."
"For god sakes, let me finish!"
"I already know."
"That there are survivors?"
"No."
"What, then?"
"Those survivors are dead."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "What do you mean, dead?" This was unfathomable. How could they die? They killed all of these zombies… They packed some massive firepower…
"They're dead, because the zombies got them."
"What? But look what they did t—"
"Wait for it."
"Wait for wh—" Bump! The SUV shook again.
"There's your answer." He said, grimly.
I looked once again out of the window. Where the zombies used to be, was now filled with the bodies of dozens of survivors—or… non-survivors, I guess—lying on the road in pools of their own blood. Next to them were even more bodies of dead zombies. They died fighting. I felt like shedding a tear.
"Ohio, what's going on?" I hear Wichita say, the tiredness in her voice, apparent. "What's with all the shaking?"
At the sound of her speaking, I quickly hide the tears. Actually, there were never any tears. Yeah.
"We-uh found survivors."
"Where?"
"Outside."
I watch as she turns her head to look outside her own window.
"Those people are dead." Was all she said.
"Huh?"
"Those people are dead." She repeats.
"Yeah, I know."
"You said there were survivors."
"Right. My bad." Who would've known that Wichita was a grammar Nazi?
It did not seem as if she was troubled by this. And neither should I. Over the course of a few weeks, we have watched as nearly the entire population of the world mutated into disgusting, pus-ridden, flesh-eating, groaning, zombie freaks. We've both seen people die at the hands of these things. Seeing that, as much as I would wish to "un-see" it, has made us tough. Well, at least it made Wichita tough. I'm still afraid of… babies and loads of other unpleasant things like, Porto-potties. Yuck.
"So…" I begin, looking to start a conversation. "Think we'll find someone famous? You know… other than Bill Murray?"
"Oh, you mean that guy that you ruthlessly murdered?" It was Little Rock, who'd finally woken up.
"I did not ruthlessly murder him." I protest. "I accidentally murdered him."
"Like that makes a difference." She rolls her eyes.
"It does so make a difference. One could get me a death penalty. The other, won't."
I could hear Wichita giggling in her seat, though her face wasn't turned towards me. Good. No more boring monotonous driving.
Just before awkward silence mode kicks in, Tallahassee answers my question. "You know," He begins. "I actually think we might find someone famous."
"Like who?" Wichita asks.
"Like, Simon Cowell. He's Canadian right?"
"Actually, he's British," I chime.
"Aren't they the same thing?" Says Tallahassee, confused.
"Actually, no. Canada used to be considered Britain's Little Brother but recent events—"
"Yeah, yeah," Tallahassee says, "No need to tell us the entire history of Canada, no matter how interesting it is."
"I actually wasn't going to tell you the entire history, I was—"
"Are you being a smart-ass?"
"No sir."
Again, I hear Wichita laugh along with her sister. We were once again having fun. Though the funny thing was, that whole conversation started out with a bunch of dead bodies, right after midnight. That's how messed up all of our sleeping patterns were. That's how messed up we were. But, being messed up wasn't really unusual in Zombieland, now was it?
Kinda like a filler chapter. I just wanted to try my hand at them reacting to each other. Hopefully it went well. Next chapter may take a while to complete, but stay tuned!
