Monster
Yaaaay. -_- Lol. A new chapter.
Lana: *whispering* Do it! Come on!
Ellis: ... Okay... *takes deep breath* Lana doesn' own th'Left for Dead frankfurter!
Lana: *facepalming* Frankfurter?! The word was franchise!
Ellis: Oh, sorry. Th'Left 4 Dead franchise. *whispering* Did Ah get it?
Lana: ... Yes... Never mind.
Seventeen
I jerked awake to find my head sticky with blood. I sat up, ready to yell for help, then I realized it wasn't my blood. It was Ellis'. The kid himself was dozing fitfully, and I checked he was still breathing before turning to the others. Zoey was sitting uncomfortably beside Coach, who was bandaging Louis' jaw. Francis was awake, and he seemed better; he was talking in muted tones to Nick, who was glaring at the biker. But they weren't having a shoot out, which reassured me somewhat. Zoey caught my eye, and waved.
"Hey, Ro," she called. "Are you alright?" I nodded.
"I'm fine, Zoey."
"Take it easy, okay?" She still looked worried.
"Yeah. You too." I turned away, and winced. Peeling back the bloodstained corner of my shirt, I found a deep wound from a sharp piece of the floor. Francis saw me, scowled, and limped over to me.
"You're hurt," he frowned.
"Not much. Go check on Louis," I suggested, but he didn't budge. "Uh... You can go now." I pretended to examine my cut, trying to ignore his penetrating gaze. Eventually, he sighed, and moved away. I looked down at my boots. A zombie apocalypse was not a good time for romance, yet it wasn't a good time for hostility, either. What would I have to do to make both myself and Francis happy?
-Monster-Monster-Monster-Monster-
I dragged my feet onwards. The pale winter sun shone on the frost-coated floor; creating a harsh glare that reflected painfully into my eyes. It also made it slippery; I found myself using Zoey as a handhold several times. Once I almost grabbed Francis, but I realized beforehand and ended up face down on the cold floor. I picked myself up, mortified, and walked quickly ahead of the group. After an hour or two we reached another house; and we found fresh water, preserved food and warm clothes. I took a mohair sweater and wore it over my thin t-shirt; grateful for the warmth. I forced Coach to wear a thick red hoodie over his t-shirt, and I zipped up Ellis' coveralls. Nick refused to wear anything but his suit, so I left him to it. Louis shouldered on a blazer, and Zoey found a pair of woolly gloves in a drawer. Francis was pleased to find a long-sleeved biker jacket, and slipped it on underneath his leather vest. After we'd all warmed ourselves and eaten our full, we filled rucksacks with food and water. As an important afterthought, I searched for a medkit and found a thick wad of gauze. I redressed my side and checked Louis' jaw for signs of further fracturing or infection. Luckily, his jaw was already on the mend, and Coach's ribs had only been bruised. Zoey managed to walk, but we needed proper medical attention for her and Nick, whose concussion only worsened and slowed our pace each day. Ellis was no use, either. All I could do was hold him in my arms, doing my best to keep his back straight. After a week of endless trudging, we found ourselves in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by corn fields and sandy roads. Whenever we followed these roads we would end up at another derelict barn, and more than once we discovered a Witch inside. Then we reached a field, and stopped.
"Look," Zoey gasped, pointing at the horizon. A tiny dot in the distance was all I needed to know that there were people - it was a moving car. We began running, as if we were trying to intercept it, with Nick and Coach staggering behind, Ellis and I in the lead. I reached the side of the road, and laid Ellis on the floor, before waving frantically at the approaching van.
"Hey! We need help!" I yelled, pointing at the rest of our group. The van slowed, and I looked in the window, feeling my joy abruptly turn to cold fear. A grate leading to the back of the van showed me that there was no sitting space - only corpses. The driver was wearing a black helmet, with a visor covering his eyes, a scarf over his mouth and nose. CEDA. I staggered back and he climbed out of the truck, lifting his army-issue rifle from his shoulder with gloved hands. I saw myself reflected in the black visor, lost in the empty blackness. I tore my eyes away, and spun, picking up Ellis and running back to the straggling group in one quick movement. Even as I ran, though, I heard the agent open fire. I watched in horror as my companions were shot down like a fĂȘte attraction. I cried out as a bullet caught my leg, and I dropped Ellis. He rolled away in the coarse grass. I reached out, but I froze as his body jerked, bullets peppering his body and bloodying the dirty floor. The agent stood over me, and I stared up at him, and he raised the gun and pulled the trigger and-
