It was a quiet day at the bar on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, a favourite hangout for a renowned biker gang. Sitting at the bar was a large, muscle bound man wearing biker leathers. He had tattoos going all the way up his right arm, right up to the side of his face, touching lightly at his short, black hair. He was sipping his glass of rum peacefully when a dark figure loomed behind him.
"You got a lot of nerve showin' your face around these parts." Spoke the ominous figure.
The burly man turned around to look at the source of the remark, and he chuckled lightly, "I would love to see you try and kick me outta here, Francis."
The two men stared at each other for a long moment, before breaking into a friendly laugh. Francis extended his hand to shake, "Damn, Ashley, it's been a while. The Hell's Legion hasn't been quite the same since you took off."
Ashley chuckled and grabbed Francis' hand, shaking it a moment before letting go, "Yeah, well, I only have a few more stops to make before I come back and help you and the guys raise some hell."
"Now that's what I like to hear!" Francis exclaimed with a smile before sitting at the bar next to Ashley and ordering a drink.
"I'm heading to Philadelphia next, I think. There's someone there I want to meet." Said Ashley after a few moments.
"Oh yeah? Sounds like a decent place to visit. I think I might take a little trip myself. I'm starting to hate Pittsburgh."
"You hate everything, Francis."
"Do not. I love my mom, you know that."
"Always the family man."
They shared a hearty chuckle and downed their drinks quickly. Letting out content sighs, they just sat and thought of how things were.
"So… how long do you think you'll be?" Asked Francis.
"Two months, I think. You?"
"I was asking so I'd know my time frame, I'll probably take a month then. Things aren't the same anymore, so I think I wanna get away from it all for a while, you know?"
Both men gave a solemn nod, "It's why I left in the first place. Trying to rediscover life. I'm getting old, and I know it. I wanna know if there's anything out there I could be doing better, you know?"
"Old? Man, you're only forty. Too soon to be thinking your old. Beside, I'm older than you are; you saying that makes me feel like a grandpa."
Both men laughed heartily at this, and they continued to enjoy the other's company for a time. Eventually, Ashley rose from his seat and stretched, "As much as I love doing this, it's time for me to go. Don't wanna stay in one place too long, might get too attached."
"I hear ya. Take care man; I'll see you in a couple months."
Ashley smirked and nodded to Francis. They shook hands, patted each other on the back, and then went their separate ways, Francis towards Fairfield, Ashley towards Philadelphia.
The wind was blowing through his hair as he rode his motorcycle towards the outskirts of Philadelphia. The sun was setting in the distance, and he was eagerly awaiting the nightlife that would soon awaken. Ashley had been on the road for a several hours now, and he was getting hungry and low on gas. He figured he'd stop by a gas station to refuel in more ways than one, and hoped he still had enough money to cover it and still get drinks later on.
As he entered the city, his good mood turned foul as he noticed that there were cars leaving fast, others in crashes and there were large fires placed sporadically about. He cautiously drove a short distance into the city, grabbing his concealed pistol and holding it at the ready under his leather jacket.
Ashley turned his eyes skyward as he heard the sound of a helicopter approaching fast. More helicopters joined the first, and the biker finally saw them coming around a large building. They were military helicopters, and they were heading towards the outskirts of the city. He could see in one of the open doors a soldier with a gun and a few civilians all huddled together. As he focused his attention on that helicopter, another one in the sky behind it was having difficulty keeping aloft as someone inside had turned into a zombie.
The biker didn't know what the zombies were, or that they even existed yet, but as the helicopter caught his attention, he did know that it was heading straight for him. He swerved his bike to the side, only to start skidding out of control, heading straight towards the approaching helicopter.
The motorbike and helicopter collided, and it was only by the devil's luck did Ashley avoid fatal injury. He rolled and bounced off of the ground, breaking his left arm and hitting his head on the pavement, cracking his skull slightly. After coming to a stop, his consciousness began to fade in and out, and the last thing he saw before the darkness took him was a group of snarling, manic people running right towards him.
Two and a Half Weeks Later
He woke up with a groan of pain, his body feeling stiff and sore all over. His vest felt too tight in some places, and too loose in others. He grabbed his head with his left hand, which while still tender, was functioning. He couldn't remember why he hurt, or even what he was doing here, wherever here was. He used his right hand to push himself up, but it wasn't until he was standing upright that he noticed something was off.
The biker looked to his right arm and let out a small yelp, startled by the sheer size of it. He waved it around and looked at it closely. It was five times as big and twice as long as it used to be, rippling with muscles and covered in stretched or torn tattoos. The rest of his body had grown a darker color and looked thick, like animal hide. His leather jacket was tight around his chest, and ripped where his right arm had grown exponentially, but at least his blue jeans were all right, if dirty.
He looked around, a few dead bodies were strewn about, but there were still people shuffling about or lying on the ground, obviously alive. They didn't seem to care at all about the chaos and death around and seemed eerily peaceful. He gathered his wits about him and started to rummage through his pockets, hoping to find some semblance of information, either about himself or what was going on. In his pockets, he managed to find a dirty old wallet, and a simple pistol with a single full clip, fifteen rounds. It was hard having to use only his left arm, as his right was too big for dextrous activities, but he eventually put the pistol in an easily reachable pocket, and fumbled open his wallet.
There were a few crumpled ten-dollar bills and some change, which he ignored since he was wanting information, not currency. What interested him the most was his motorcycle registration, which contained his name.
"Ashley… yeah, that's right. My name's Ashley. Ashley Wilson." He spoke aloud as he continued to look over the papers.
He stuffed them back into his wallet after finding out nothing more about himself, save an old address that was located halfway across the country. His tattoos didn't tell him much either, just bits of the word hell and something about motorcycles due to the fact that they were too damage to read properly. Ashley checked his pistol again and decided to start looking around for some kind of sign or even a hint as to what happened here. He walked up to the nearest zombie, an extremely obese woman, thinking that since she was so calm he might not freak her out with his appearance, and gave her a light poke.
"Hey, lady? Uh… Excuse me?"
The woman seemed to be completely ignoring him, and he got a little frustrated at this. He grabbed her shoulder with his with his left hand and turned her around forcibly, then ducked and jumped back when she took a swing at him.
"Whoa, lady, I'm sorr---"
She took another swing at him before making high-pitched snarling and screaming sounds. He stopped for a moment and let her strike him on the chest, hoping that letting her get out her frustration would calm her down. While not feeling any real pain due to his thicker hide, the woman was becoming annoying as she just continued to pound away on his chest. He grabbed her by the head with his big arm, bringing her close to see, all the while, she just continued to try to injure him. While looking at her closely, the large armed biker could finally tell that she wasn't entirely alive or human anymore.
"Holy hell… just like that movie… Zombies!"
He tossed the woman, not realising the extent of his new strength, right into the wall in front of him. He had only meant to make her hit her head to scramble her zombie brains, but instead she popped like a balloon, covering him in a viscous green fluid.
"Ahh, god damn, it stinks!" He whined aloud and he started to rub it off.
He froze after he wiped his eyes and saw the nearby zombies beginning to rush him. He reacted quickly, drew his pistol, and began firing on the nearest ones. Ashley quickly ran out of bullets trying to fell them all, and resorted to bashing them in with his giant arm. A dozen zombies soon turned to none as he grabbed the last one by the head and crushed it into the pavement.
'Damn zombies… I have no idea what happened to me, but this arm sure came in handy here. And those things barely even scratched me. I'm invincible!' He thought proudly, raising the big arm into the air, feeling empowered.
His moment was shattered, however, when he heard a crescendo of howls coming from the city. Ashley turned to look and saw a veritable army of zombies rushing down the street towards him, some burning to death in fires along the way, but the bulk of them had a clear path to him.
"Well shit…"
Ashley glanced around, looking for anything at all to help him defend himself. Near him was the helicopter he woke up next too, and upon inspection, he saw that one of the blades was still attached and unharmed. Grabbing the rod that attached the blade to the rotor, he used his newfound strength to its fullest and bent the base of the rod until it snapped off. He gripped the end with his big arm, and held up the copter blade like a sword.
'This'll have to do for now.'
He knew he might not be able to handle them all, but he would sure as hell try. The first wave of the zombies hit, and fell to the might of Ashley's powerful swing as he cut them asunder.
The trio were still chasing the horde, running as fast as they could; except for Parrot, who was hitching a ride. They had taken to the roads, running by the sidewalks where the zombies were less likely to bump into them. Rags had bumped into one at one point, and the zombie that ran into him began to attack him. He'd used his butcher's knife to strike the zombie, catching it in the neck and felling it quickly.
He had mostly done so out of fright, and it was the first time any of them had killed one of the zombies. Rags seemed a little disturbed, along with Matt, but Parrot was still too young to get the nuances of life or death, especially in regards to things not entirely human. It was after this event that Matt realised something.
"You know… if these things are so pissed off, they might be going to kill something or someone. Rags is the only one with a weapon, and we might have to save someone, which means most likely killing these things. As much as I don't want too, they aren't people anymore, and need to be stopped. And in no way are we really equipped to take on so many at once."
"What about her? She might do good with those claws of hers." Rags pointed out.
"Yeah! Rawr!" Parrot said, swiping her claws in the air.
"I would rather not have a little kid dicing up zombies and getting covered in blood."
"Eww…" The little girl whined, returning her hands to her chest, remembering something about blood that left her uneasy.
"See?"
"Yeah, yeah… Still, why don't you just grab something in the streets here? Might find at least a blunt object to use or something." Suggested Rags, before taking a puff of his half-spent cigarette.
"You're probably right." The hunter said with a sigh, and started to look for a weapon as they ran.
Zombie parts littered the road as Ashley continued to swing. He had been swarmed several times and had to push them away, being forced to retreat little by little. His body was covered in scratches and bites, his blood flowing a little too freely for his liking, and he leather jacket had been torn away completely.
He was slowly being backed into a wall, and as well as he had been doing, there was still around two hundred zombies left. He didn't know why they were so angry at him, or why they were chasing him. He figured it had something to do with that foul smelling slime the fat zombie splashed on him when it exploded. None of the other zombies did that yet, so the first one must have been special.
While these thoughts were in the back of his mind, the forefront went something like this.
"Bring it on!" Chop. "Have some more!" Hack. "Die zombies, die!" Slash. "I will gut you all!" Thrust.
His bravado was a practiced act to give himself the confidence needed to face any task before him, including zombies. However, his resolve was faltering by the second as he became increasingly injured, and while the zombies were falling, it didn't seem like their numbers were dwindling. He even grew somewhat fearful as he saw a figure clad in dark green leap high into the sky, arcing towards him. He readied himself to cut at the leaper, only to find that it landed about ten feet short of him, and onto another zombie.
The leaper pulled out what looked like a police baton, and with a hard crack caved in the head of the zombie it had pounced upon.
"Looks like you could use a hand!" He said, Ashley knowing now that it was a he due to the voice.
"No clue how you did that, but you can talk and kick ass, so I'll take the help."
The green guy nodded and continued to fight with his modified tonfa, cracking zombie skulls quickly and efficiently.
To his left, Ashley heard a gurgling and coughing sound, followed by a wet slick. He saw as one of the zombies was wrapped up by a tentacle of some kind and pulled towards the owner of said tentacle. It was another weird zombie, but again, helping him like the green guy. This one had bandages all over its face, and once it had pulled the zombie close enough, it brought down a knife to cut the throat of its victim.
It spoke after sucking its tongue back in and taking a puff from a cigarette, "So that's what this thing is for." It then began to rinse and repeat the process.
Now that he had a few people on his side, he was regaining his confidence and started to fight harder, fighting past his fatigued to stave off the zombie horde.
Behind a nearby wrecked car, Parrot was hiding and gazing on in awe of the great battle her friends were fighting. They had both gone in to save the large man with the big arm, saying that he was like them, and might be a friend. She was happy at first about the notion of having another friend in this lonely place, but she was beginning to doubt if it was worth it as she watched the fight. She didn't want her friends to get hurt, especially Matt, since he'd been like a big brother to her since he found her.
She began to rub her claws together in worry, enjoying the light scratching sound they made, making her feel a little safer for some reason. She looked to her claws, then back to the fight, and gave little cheers to them as the number of zombies dwindled.
Her fears began to rise, however, as some of the zombies turned on Matt, smacking him about the head and body. She looked on in horror as they eventually knocked him down and began to stomp on him. Somewhere deep down inside of her, something snapped.
She jumped up onto the car, and cried out, "Leave. Him. Alone!"
Her voice escalated into a shriek; she threw her arms to the side, much like the crazy woman from before, and bolted forward faster than one would think her little legs could take her. The zombie nearest Matt were the first to go, their limbs and blood flying in all directions as her five-inch long claws sliced through them effortlessly.
Rags and the big-armed guy seemed to be in shock at what the little girl was doing, and thoughtfully stayed clear away from her, handling their own patch of zombies with worried expressions. What would have taken forever was now reduced to a few minutes as the little witch raged on, cutting down any zombie who ran towards her or Matt.
Soon, the final zombie fell, and the streets were quiet again save the panting of the men and the light growling coming from Parrot. Soon, she too went quiet as her eyes rolled back into her head as she passed out, collapsing down towards the ground.
Matt, who had had time to recover once Parrot had taken care of the zombies around him, caught her before she hit the blood-covered pavement. He picked up her light form and cradled her as he would a baby, and sighed heavily.
"I'm thankful she saved me… but I didn't want it this way."
He felt Rags approach him and put a hand on his shoulder, "I know what you mean, that was pretty brutal. Here… Give her to me; I'll go find something to clean her up with before she wakes up. You can go and talk to the big guy. You're good at that."
Matt seemed to think about it a moment and then nodded. He handed Parrot over to Rags, who walked towards a nearby apartment building, and walked over to the third half-zombie he had seen since awakening.
"Well umm… hello."
"Hey. That was umm… something, all right. I guess I should say thanks for the help." The big-armed guy responded, rubbing the back of his head with his little arm.
"Yeah, glad we could help." He sighed, "Damn… didn't think I'd have to be killing zombies in my life. And I wish she didn't have to do what she did…"
"Definitely, that was some scary stuff. Scrappy for a lil' kid."
"Seems so…" He said, before sighing again and putting his nightstick into one of his belt loops, "So, do you remember your name, or did you forget like the rest of us?"
"I think I forgot, but I had my motorcycle license on me. Name's Ashley Wilson." The big guy said, turning slightly to extend his hand towards Matt.
"I'm Matt Destin; I had my driver's license on me. The other two didn't have any kind of ID on them, however. So I'm calling them Parrot, the girl, and Rags, the guy, for now."
"Parrot and Rags, huh? I guess when you got nothin' else…"
Matt nodded, "Mhm. So… do you remember anything? Or why these things ran after you?"
"Not much, except riding a bike and drinking booze. And I think they came after me caused I made this fat zombie pop like a balloon and it splashed slime all over me. I think the blood got the slime to wash off."
Matt shuddered a little at how easily Ashley spoke of such things, and at the dread that he might have to learn to be the same way soon enough.
"Well… you're more than welcome to come with us, wherever it is we happen to go. We've been kind of flying by the seat of our pants, and I think all of us could use what friends we can get. We'll be looking for a clothing store next, we all need it, then maybe think about food and weaponry. I'm still not sure what the extent of our mutations are, so who knows what we'll need?"
"Yeah, you're going to have to fill me in on that whole zombie business. As for clothes and food, no idea. But, you might wanna check that chopper over there; it looks military and might have guns." He said, pointing to the helicopter.
The awakened hunter turned to where he could feel the hand pointing, and felt around. Sure enough, a hundred feet away, was a crashed helicopter. He nodded to Ashley, who was now ripping off some of the dead zombies' clothes to use as bandages, before walking over the copter. He couldn't exactly tell what was inside as the material of the helicopter was blocking the light vibrations he used to see. Pulling back his fist, he punched the copter as hard as he could, sending a large wave of vibrations throughout the vehicle.
He smiled lightly at what he felt inside, then turned to call to Ashley, "Hey, Ashley! I think I found something; I need your help getting this thing open though."
"Alright, gimme a second." Was his reply.
Ashley grabbed his helicopter blade, which was still in good condition, and walked over to the helicopter. He didn't want to part with it just yet, as it had saved his life earlier. He set it down when he arrived, and began pulling at the copter's metal, slowly making a large enough opening for Matt to get inside.
"That good enough?"
"Should be, thanks." The hunter replied.
Matt worked his way into the chopper, feeling around for what he'd sensed before. He did his best to ignore the four rotting bodies, long since dead, which occupied the wreckage. He soon found his bounty, however, in their hands, and in the back compartment of the downed vehicle. He grabbed the few guns he found, apologizing to the bodies for taking their things, and one by one tossed them out and onto the ground. Reaching in the compartment, he found the ammo needed to go into the guns, but he didn't know which went with which, so he just carried all of it out at once. The last thing he took was a couple of first aid kits that looks relatively undamaged compared to the others he had found.
"Alright… I think I cleared it out. So, do you know what guns I found? I can just tell they're guns, but I can't see the finer details to tell which kind. That, and I know next to nothing about guns."
"You blind?"
"I am. But I can see stuff with vibrations and touch, especially with touch. S'how I read my driver's license."
"Spiffy. Now, let's see here…"
Ashley, remembering quite a bit about weapons, began to sift through and appraise each one.
"Alright… we got four usable ones. A pump action shotgun, standard issue I think, good for close range stuff. Two MP5's, I think, automatic submachine guns. And we got a simple 9mm pistol, like the one I had earlier. We got plenty of ammo for it all too. About ten clips for the pistols, twelve clips for the MP5's, and uh… about four boxes of rounds for the shotgun; let's see… what's sixteen times four?"
"Sixty-four."
"Right, then sixty-four rounds for the shotgun, plus whatever might be in the guns to begin with. We also got some rifle rounds, but the rifle you found is beat to shit."
"Damn… you sure know your guns."
"Yeah, must've really liked guns before…"
"Could be, but still, this is a really good start. Should keep us safe for a little while. Now how the hell are we gunna carry it all with us…?"
"That does pose a problem… we need backpacks, I think. Here, how about I guard the guns and you go find something, alright?"
Matt thought for a moment, and nodded, "Alright. And go ahead and use one of those kits on yourself, better than filthy zombie clothes."
The biker nodded, and plopped himself down on the ground to work with one of the kits, which was proving difficult with just one dextrous hand.
The hunter turned to leave, and walked down the roads. Everything was eerily silent again, the only noise being the sounds of fires crackling, of Ashley trying to bandage himself up, and the vague noise of Rags wiping down Parrot with a cloth of some kind off in the distance.
The near total silence didn't help his search, as without noise his 'vision' was limited, so he had taken to snapping his fingers to cause enough sound to reverberate inside the nearby shops and homes, just enough to get a decent glance. His search took him a few blocks down the road to a rather large all-purpose clothing shop, something that brought a smile to his face.
The windows were broken, and some of the nearest racks had been stripped clean of clothing, but upon closer inspection, much of what was in the back was left untouched, or at worst knocked over. He took a few tentative steps inside through a broken window, drawing his baton as he did so, just in case a zombie or two was hanging around inside. He gave the place a quick once around, and found that he was the only thing moving in the entire store. Smiling lightly, he sheathed his nightstick and began to pick through the back of the store.
Rags was walking back towards the helicopter, carrying a sleeping, and clean, Parrot in his arms. He noticed that the big guy had bandages and plasters covering his wounds, and now seemed to be just lazing around, watching a pile of stuff.
"Hey, where's Matt?"
"Huh? Oh, there you two are. Yeah, he took off to go find some backpacks to carry all this stuff."
"What is it?"
"A first aid kit and an ass load of guns and bullets."
"Really? That'll come in handy. Oh uh… name's Rags, by the way."
"Yeah, Matt told me. I can see why too. I'm Ashley, nice ta meet ya." He said, extending his hand.
Rags nodded to Ashley and shook his hand, careful not to drop the little girl.
"So… what do you know about what happened to us?" The biker asked.
"Not a whole lot… Matt knows more, I think. Or at least he has his head on straight, let's wait for him to get back and then he can tell you."
"Fair enough. While you're here, wanna take a pick? One of the pistols is mine, though."
Rags nodded, and glanced at the guns. While he didn't like the idea of using a gun, he figured that around here, he would have too. "I think… I'll take one of the machine guns."
"Good choice, that leaves one more, and the shotgun. Not sure which Matt's gunna take."
"Shotgun!" Called a voice from a little ways down the road.
Rags and Ashley both looked towards the voice, and down the road, they saw Matt, who was carrying several backpacks, walking towards them. Upon arriving, he dropped two hiking backpacks, two gym duffle bags, and a little kid's schoolbag.
"Alright, this is what I found, and there's also a whole tonne of clothes where these came from, we can pick out some stuff that isin't covered in blood and smells and looks like crap."
"Yes!" Said Rags quietly with a smile, trying not to wake the girl in his arms.
"Good going. Hey, why're these two duffle bags duct taped together?" Asked Ashley.
"Ah, well, there wasn't any bag that fit your… unique size, so I improvised with a roll of duct tape I found under the counter." Matt shrugged, having thought it to be a good idea.
Ashley grunted as he stood up and picked the duffle bags off the ground to examine them. After a moment, he slipped the huge strap of one over his big arm, and the small strap of the other over his small arm.
"Hmm… not bad." Ashley said as he nodded appreciatively, before removing it so that he could start stuffing the weapons inside, "well, let's get to that clothing shop, I'm feeling a draft."
The other two men chuckled quietly. Together, they all walked towards the clothing store, bags in tow, all the while carrying little Parrot, who was still sound asleep.
They spent two hours in the clothing shop, picking out just the right things to wear. They each took two sets of clothes, and a total of four plastic ponchos in case it rained.
Matt had taken two sets of black undershirts and boxers, as well as two dark green tracksuits similar to his own. He liked the style and feel against his skin, and he'd asked the others about the color, since he was still unable to discern colors and it was his favourite. He managed to fit all of his clothes in his bag, and still had room to spare after putting in his duct tape and three boxes of shotgun ammunition. He emptied one of the boxes of ammo into the pockets of his hoodie, making sure they wouldn't fall out, so he could easily reload his shotgun. He had plenty of ammo now, especially since the shotgun was filled to its eight round capacity prior to him finding it, which made him happy.
Rags had taken to wearing a red dress shirt with a white undershirt, and simple black dress pants. His extra outfit consisted of something more durable, including thick jeans and a heavy jacket. He also chose to wear footwear, as opposed to the barefoot Matt, and now donned a pair of thick black and white sneakers, tough and good for running. He put four clips for the MP5 into his backpack, and two into his pants pockets for easy access. His pack still had quite a bit of room in it, but he was going to be filling it to the brim with cigarettes, since he seemed to need them to speak, and he was starting to run low.
Ashley decided to go for something he felt familiar with. He picked out two sets of large, thick jeans, big black boots, and two gigantic white shirts that fit a little too snugly around his chest. He had to make a few cuts on the right sleeves of both shirts, so that his arm would fit. The biker did the same to two leather jackets he found, oversized like before, but a good fit for his now much larger size. He still carried his helicopter blade with him, like how Matt and Rags carried their chosen melee weapons with them, and managed to find a place for it between the duct-taped duffle bags. His makeshift backpack had by far the most room, so they had all agreed that he'd carry the extra ammo, the other MP5, the plastic ponchos, and the food when they found some. He had his pistol in his front left pocket, with four clips for it in his front right for easy access.
Parrot, who had woken up earlier and wondered what had happened, had quickly switched interest from the adults trying to get around telling her what happened to the clothing in the store. She picked out something simple, a pink t-shirt with the word 'Princess' on it in bright letters, a small pair of jeans, and some socks and sneakers for her sore feet. At one point, she had found an oversized dark blue raincoat and tried it on. It was the only one in the store, and though it felt really comfortable, it was far too large for her length wise. She got the idea to cut the bottom off of it with her claws so that it wouldn't drag on the floor and it turned out rather well, if a little ragged. It fit over her shoulders, thankfully, and the length of it now made it look like she was wearing a thick, hooded dress. The sleeves went way past the ends of her claws, but she enjoyed being able to hide her mutation under them easily, making her feel more normal. The hood was large as well, when she put it up, it completely shadowed her visage and made it hard for her to see her own face in the mirror, and at the same time not affecting her line of sight too badly. It all made her feel safer, as if she had her own protective bubble to wear and hide inside of. Her pack held an extra set of clothes, much like the ones she wore now under her raincoat, and nothing else.
She was the last to finish dressing, and walked back to the adults while playing with something she found in her old clothes. When she walked into the main room from the dressing room, she heard the adults talking.
"I just don't think it's a good idea to give her a gun, alright?" She heard it was Matt speaking.
"We've got the gun to spare, and she's got nothin' but her claws to protect herself with. It could save her life one day." Said Ashley, as she'd been told his name was.
"While I think giving her the gun to protect herself might be a good idea, she could end up slicing through the trigger with her claws. Those things are frigging sharp." It was Rags this time that spoke.
"Okay okay… look… how about we just get her to hold it in her backpack, and ask her not to use it. See how things go for now. If it does get dangerous… then we'll find her a glove or something and show her how to use it." Matt said again.
"I don't like it… but I guess as long as she sticks close to us she probably won't need it." The gruff voice of the biker rang out next.
They seemed to all nod in agreement, and Parrot decided it was time to let her presence be known. "I can carry it in my backpack."
They all turned to her, and looked at the big raincoat she wore that hid her face, "Um… right. You heard that huh?" Matt asked, to which Parrot nodded. "Damn… alright, here. Turn around." He said, shaking his head, obviously not liking the idea, "Remember, don't use it."
Parrot nodded and bounced a little, turning around and giving Matt access to her little backpack. He opened it up and placed the loaded gun inside, as well as a single clip. He also decided to put the first-aid kit in there too, since she had enough room for it.
"There… now you can also be our little medic." He said, smiling at his comment.
"Yay! I'm helpful!" Parrot exclaimed excitedly, raising her arms up, causing her lengthy sleeves to flail around. She then held out her arms to Matt, "Up?"
"What? But you've got shoes now."
"But I like being high up… I wouldn't be a Parrot otherwise!" She smiled brightly, something only Matt could see clearly under her hood.
The others laughed as the hunter gave in, picking up the little witch and placing her on his shoulder.
They all turned to face the store, and double-checked to make sure their respective weapons were secured, but at the ready. All except for Parrot, who began to play with the thing she'd found before.
"What's that you got there?" Asked Ashley.
"A cell phone. I found it in my old clothes. S'dead though. Might'a been mine."
"Better keep it; we might be able to find a charger and a working power outlet. Could give you hints towards family or friends, your past and stuff, you know? Hell, maybe even some survivors." Said Rags, lighting up another cigarette.
Parrot nodded, and turned to Ashley as he spoke about something completely different, "Well damn… havin' to go out and face the zombie apocalypse… an' bein' half zombies ourselves. Shit… This'll be tough, ya know?"
They all nodded, and Matt was the next to speak, "I know. But we gotta go out there. We'll check for supplies as we go along, try to see if anyone's survived this, or became like us. I just hope to the gods that we find something soon."
"I hear ya. I think we should get some smokes and food first. Then… then see what happens." Rags said.
"Doesn't sound too bad." Spoke Ashley in agreement as they all started to exit the store, heading towards the streets filled with the light of dawn.
Matt nodded, "Alright then, we'll get some supplies, and then… then I think we should leave this city. By the looks of things, humanity has abandoned this place. This city, and everything in it, including us, has been left for dead."
A/N: I knew I had to work in the title here. I hope you liked the chapter. I decided to have the fourth be a Charger since a Boomer is prone to explosion, a Tank is too powerful, and having duplicate would've been lame. As a note to those who may be wondering why Matt has no eyes, it's because if you read the Wiki, you can see that the hunter has no eyes. Until next time in: First Dawn: Dead Streets. The first chapter of the first 'campaign'.
PS: Reviews are like a special fuel that helps me write. I love to hear your input. Thanks for your time!