Where Do We Go From Here

Fluffy-142

Second day for ma story sukkas! Hope you like it! It also, thanks to the recommendation of FREDDYANDPEWDIEPIEXD, occurred to me that I was spelling Kaitlin's name wrong too. Hahaha! Well, here it is part three, of Where Do We Go from Here!

Chapter 3: Blast From the Past

"Dammit!" I yell. Bad move. Forgot to check the basement, one of the dumbest moves I've made so far.

"Trevor! You bastard you gave away our position, and now they're attacking the house!"

"Well, it's not entirely my fault! Now will you all stop blaming each other, and take care of the runners!"

And just as mentioned, the first runner bashes open the door. Training the sights of my pistol onto its disease ridden face, and squeeze the trigger, the window opposite me explodes in a shower of wood and glass. Without further hesitation, I put 2 rounds in his head. Swiveling around, I shoot off another round into the runner that had dared pull my attention away from my friends. But, try as I might, I can't hold back the inevitable. Three clickers burst through the basement door. Pulling out the 12 gauge, I remove that cauliflower head from its shoulders, and the other two fall to James' revolver.

I barely have time to thank him, before another two runners break down the window where Rebecca is wrenching her machete out of a stalker's* lacerated body. Grabbing her by the arm they try to drag her out through the hole they had created. Hell no. Pulling out the 270, I pound the ballistic tips into their chests. Have to hand it to the old man. All those years of rabbit hunting really came in handy. I've seen the destructive power of these rounds, and at close range, they're no match. With gaping holes in their chests, blood showers the once pristine white carpet of the living room, I sprint over to her, taking out another two runners along the way.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Holy shit! They almost had me!"

"All right, take a breather in the kitchen. Take the machete." I indicate the blood-stained weapon on the floor. As I bend over to pick it up for her, two more runners grab me from behind; perfect time to be a gentleman. As they drag me outside, I can hear the startled cries of my friends as they behold this ungodly sight.

Just as I know the end is here, an arrow slams in to the side of the head of the runner holding me down, its jaws hovering less than an inch above my neck. Taking advantage of the sudden lapse in time, I grab a shiv from the makeshift holster, and jam it into the neck of the nearest zombie. As the croaking sounds of the impaled clicker dies away, a second and third arrow slam into the next two runners. Damn, Jess is really good with that bow.

With only four of them left, I hear a screech, and realize that five more are storming the house. Followed by the well awaited Bang! Bang! Bang! Of someone inside with a 9mm. as I see the four bodies topple out of the once humble abode. With another 2 rounds fired, little Ashlyn Baker, rolls out the last body, and arranges them into a makeshift mound. Our little Ashy is all grown up. As Bransin stumbles out after her, I can see the love in their eyes, as the stand back to back, blowing the heads off of zombies left and right. Dammit, now I feel jealous.

Also, a very dumb idea to be distracted by them as I'm being dragged further and further towards the woods… when you realize you're about to be ripped limb from limb, you learn to take in your surroundings. A tree, another tree, raspberry bush, some shrubs, a deer, BARRELS! Wow, just got to enjoy the little things, but not today. 50 yards into the tree line, I'm back on the ground. Another runner inches from my face. If there's ever a time for a back story, it's not now. 2 shivs, my pistols, the rifle, shotgun, everything has been taken. These things know what they're doing.

Alyssa sat in the tree, oblivious to the fact that the woods around her would be full to the brim with zombies, auburn hair flowing in the gentle spring breeze. Something's wrong. She thought to herself. Jumping down from the Birch, rolling to absorb the landing, she decided to refill her supplies on some of the nearby bushes. As she walked through the woods, keeping close to the tree, she started topick up the gurgling moans, and the dragging sound of something tugged along through the brush.

Whenever the clicking started, she knew what was happening. Grabbing her silenced 9mm, she parted the bushes in front of her. There were 5 of them, all gathered around the writhing body of a man around her age. The face looked familiar, but she couldn't quite decipher who it is. SNAP OUT OF IT! He needs help. Reacting only out of instinct, she losses off the remaining three bullets in her pistol. Crap, need more ammo. Putting away her gun, and slowly skirting around the 2 remaining clickers, who were jerking slowly toward her previous position she slowly unsheathed her katana. Swiftly and silently, the two remaining clickers were beheaded before they knew it.

As I'm being pulled to my feet, I study my savior. Long auburn hair, bloody katana, semi decent casual clothes, but the "Bleach" shirt gave her away.

"Alyssa?"

"Trevor?" Now that you mention it, not seeing each other in 3 years, it really changes someone.

"Where have you been?" Realizing that's not the sarcastic remark you give to a lady you haven't seen since 8th grade. The appalled look on her face said it all.

"Okay, that wasn't the smartest thing to say. C'mon, everyone else is back at the house, I hope." Grabbing her by the arm, I lead her back to the house, following the blood trail from the wounded runners that had dragged me away. As we trudged silently along, I filled Alyssa in on the situation, and got the scoop on what happened to her after she left.

When we arrived at that little blue house on the farm, the fight was over. Most of the bodies were stacked in a pile, ready to be burned. The rest were either too mangled to even bother moving, or there was nothing to burn.

As I approached our temporary base, the surprised gasps of my friends, and the more startled ones afterward as they beheld the unexpected visitor. Most of the next few seconds were the worst of my 17-year-old life. As hugs and stories were swapped around, there came the awkward moment where Rebecca and I hugged. As we separated, I notice the odd discoloration of her left sleeve.

"Wait, what's that?"

"What's what?" Reaching unbelievably towards her arm, and slowly push it up, as I stare at the bleeding wound of 32 teeth marks imbedded on her flesh.

"Holy Fucking Shitballs."

Sorry it took so long, there was Christmas, and then New Years. I promised people that it would be up by 3:00, had some errands, and chores to do. The story will continue.

Fluffy-142