(Okay, here goes chapter two, including zombie dogs, British accents, and capes. Sounds cracky, but its actually…cracky.)
Heartless-Chapter Two
I slip through the streets, always holding onto Columbus' s hand. Running like this reminds me of days in my old home in Scotland…except that when I ran then, I was being chased by my little brother, not the blood-thirsty undead.
We pass a building, and I stop, whirl, and dart for the door, which is ajar. Behind me, I hear Columbus slam into a building. He groans and slumps to the ground. The older of the two girls helps him up and gives me a death glare.
"Come on, do you want to die?", I roar as Tallahassee fires at a whole row of zombies, wiping out at least forty. He laughs happily. He's actually enjoying this!
The girls dart in after me, the older one holding Columbus by the arm. I scream again at Tallahassee, and he whoops and follows me in. With his help, I lock the huge steel door. I slide, back against it, and yawn.
"Well that was fun.", I smile from the floor.
"You little-"
"I'd watch my tongue if I were you! I just saved your lives!", I snarl at the older girl. She grumbles something to low for me to hear
"You're British, cool!", the smaller girl gasped. I cock my head.
"Yeah, that little asshole is Scotland.", Tallahassee said, thumping me in the back of the head. I hiss and rub the spot.
"Call me Scott.", I mutter.
"He jumped off a building.", Columbus says at random to the older girl.
"And you ran into one."
They all laugh, and I stare at them curiously. I haven't heard anyone laugh in a while. My old comrade had no sense of humor.
"So," Tallahassee stands and clasps his hands together, "intros?"
"Little Rock!", the younger girl announces.
"Wichita.", the older one says, never loosing her glare at me.
"Talla-"
"I know who you two are," I say, pointing at the bleeding Columbus and relaxed Tallahassee. They nod, and we stare at each other awkwardly.
"Um, well, we're going to be here awhile, so why don't we get to know each other a little better?", Columbus says.
"Yeah, pop a squat leprechaun.", Tallahassee says and pushes me on the floor. Everyone else follows suit. I'm surprised everyone's well enough to speak. Must face zombies often. I sigh. I've never been good at talking to people. And I sure as hell don't want them to know about me, or me to know about them. But they're all staring at me, Little Rock beaming encouragingly.
I figure that Columbus is right-there were thousands of zombies out there, and they certainly aren't leaving anytime soon. With a sigh, I give in to their little game.
"Okay. Well, I'm going to Scotland, where I used to live before I moved here. I think there are humans on other continents…hopefully. If there aren't, I'll focus on surviving.", I stop as Little Rock raises her hand. She doesn't wait for me to pick her.
"What's up with your clothes?", she asks. I stare down at my clothes, baffled. I'm wearing a white long sleeved shirt with a worn, old brown vest over it, black pants and shoes, and…oh.
"My cape? Is that what's confusing you?"
"Yeah, why a cape?", Tallahassee buts in.
"Er, well, its embarrassing…", I mumble. Wichita raises an eyebrow.
"Afraid to tell us?", she muses with a wicked smile. I can feel my blood temperature rising at the sight of her smirk. I decide I might as well tell her.
"I wear it because it makes me feel like a hero from a book I read once. He was a vegan vampire who defended humans. Happy?", I snap at Wichita. She sits back with a satisfied smile.
"Happy.", she grins.
"Okay, my turn," Columbus starts. The rest of the night lags on, filled with stories of life before the madness. Eventually, everyone nods off but me. I lay on the cold floor, wrapped in my cape, listening to the sounds of the undead scratching on the walls outside.
Several hours later, I wake up and go to the kitchen. I'm thirsty as hell, and, unfortunately, there's nothing in date to drink. The water works, but I don't trust its virus free. I sigh and sit on a stool. I stare at the room for a while, noting that an ivy plant has overgrown and is covering the wall it used to sit on.
I almost nod off, but then I hear movement. I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise, and I stare frozen at its source.
"Scott? Hey Scott?", I hear someone whisper. With an exasperated sigh, I call back, "What's wrong Little Rock?"
"Oh," she says, appearing in the darkened kitchen with me, "Just now I heard a weird noise, like someone walking, but I guess it was just you."
"Little Rock…I haven't moved.", I whisper. Her eyes and mine widen, and we stare at the shadowy corners, listening for any other noises…
…and then I hear it. A low keening noise…a demented version of my worst nightmare.
A dog.
A zombie dog.
It darts into the room, and Little Rock screams, hiding behind me. The dog looks horrible. Blood drips from its greenish coat, fangs long and sharp. It's eyes are huge, red, and filled with a crazy light that sends a shiver down my spine. It howls, and I almost piss my pants right there.
But I have more dignity than that.
I stand in front of Little Rock and wrench some knives out of their wooden container. The demon dog howls again, and I scream in spite of myself. However, the screech helps me, harnessing all my fear. I lash out at the dog-creature, ripping at its face with a long butcher knife.
It wails as I rip one of its eyes out. I yell in triumph, going at its ears. It narrowly misses me, and I feel its fangs gash my cape. I kick it off, and then slam my foot into its side.
"Get help!", I roar at the terrified Little Rock. She nods, skirts skittishly around the dog, and runs screaming, "DOG! SOMEONE HELP!", at her friends.
The demon dog lashes for my throat, and I punch its face, but it comes with a price-I lose my balance and fall backwards onto the floor with a thud. The dog howls with savage delight and lands on my stomach.
The mongrel is heavier than I thought. I feel the air go out of me, and the beast aims once again for my unprotected neck. I grab it by the head and slam it into the floor.
Then, thank God, Tallahassee busts in. He sees me rolling about on the ground, my attacker winning.
"Move your foreign ass if you wanna live!", he screams. I roll under the kitchen table, and the dog, busy chasing me, howls and begins to run, but is shot down quickly by Tallahassee. It snarls, then howls a long, savage howl that strikes fear into my heart. It slumps heavily to the ground, and the only noise is my own hyperventilating.
They're all staring at me, holding my knees, rocking back and forth under the table like some kind of two-year-old. I control my breathing, then smile weakly.
"I think I forgot to say I'm scared of dogs."
(On that note, we leave everyone to their business. Liking it so far? I know it moves kind of fast.)