Where Do We Go From Here
Fluffy142
A/N: This is where the story gets sketchy. I'll say that at most, but I bet you're wondering what happened to Ashlyn and Bransin. Well, this will help clear that up. I really hope you enjoy.
Chapter 11.5: Together
Bransin snapped his head around at the sound. That all too familiar noise. Though all it meant was trouble, it also meant that he was closer to his goal. Ashlyn snapped around as well, but more out of fear than hope. The following clicks and slight shrieks lit up the surrounding woods. Bransin slowly pulled out the rifle, and Ashlyn checked the ammo in her pistol.
As the first clicker uttered it first, more rapid clicks, as it does on the trail of its prey, a different sound reached his ears. This sound didn't belong to Infected, but it almost sounded… human. Motioning for Ashlyn to stay put, he moved closer to the sound. Being careful to stay away from larger stick, and other materials that would betray his position, he peeked to the side of the tree.
His first instinct was to run, but the sight of the small group reminded him of the ones he left behind. Maybe it was his eyes, or from the extreme hunger, but the larger girth, and unkempt hair. It couldn't be.
The man cleaved the head of the clicker in two. The tire iron in his hands bringing forth a fountain of blood and tissue alike, but he merely shrugged it off. The other Infected, alerted to his position, rushed closer and closer. Their arms swinging madly, they had found their prey. The second and third clickers were dead in an instant, their bodies piled together. As he pulled out his sawed-off shotgun, he took aim at the charging runners, and released the heavy buck-shot into their heads. Quickly pulling out a .45 from his belt, and destroying the last clicker's uneven head, he turned to his three friends. Holstering the weapon, and backpacking the tire iron, he motioned for the rest to follow.
Bransin smirked behind the tree. As Trevor, James, Rebecca, and Jess walked off, he started to retreat towards Ashlyn. Absentmindedly, he stepped on a small stick. The resounding snap, seemed loud enough to wake the dead. Trevor and his friends instantly spun into a circle, weapons being brandished in every direction, and slowly panned clockwise. Protecting each other, and surviving was always Trevor's first priority, and it seems that things never really changed in the last 20 years.
Although Bransin and Ashlyn had changed in those years, you would hardly recognize them. Nevertheless, Bransin and Ashlyn had always felt terrible for what they had done to their friends. All the way back in Pennsylvania, that fateful night. Kaitlin dead, Ashlyn in shambles, he had chosen to keep her from harm, by any means necessary.
18 years ago, their house had been stormed by hunters, and they were lucky to escape with little more than a bullet to the shoulder. As they watched Ashlyn's house burn to the ground, Bransin felt that he had broken his promise to her. Upon his decision, they set out after their friends, in a desperate attempt to stay alive. All they knew was that they had headed towards the nearest safe place. They had tried Pittsburg, but you can probably see how that went.
"Well, if it's all major cities north, than it would make sense to go south towards where it started. The government had probably already set up Quarantine Zones, and they're most likely already down there." Bransin had more or less explained this to himself rather than Ashlyn. He had turned to her, but found her already asleep. Smiling to himself, he put out the lamp, kissed her on the head, and took watch for the night.
After all of these years, they had found them. They had really found them. They were a mere 20 yards away and yet he had no courage to speak up. How in the world would he face them? He had abandoned them in their time of need. Deciding to keep close, and find the right time to reveal their selves.
They followed them at a moderately close range. It seemed that they had a set destination, like a QZ or something. Surprising enough, they had entered the town of Jackson. The hydroelectric plant was in remarkable condition. It also seemed as if everyone had just taken the day off. They heard the scream, and its owner was unmistakable.
It resounded across the surrounding mountains, and vibrated across the woods. The disgruntled moans and clicks that followed shortly, announced the worst. Bransin looked to Ashlyn, and sprinted toward the plant. Just as they reached the door, and turned the handle, they heard the shot.
Ashlyn stopped in her tracks; her hand slowly creeping up to cover her mouth and nose. Then came the tears. Bransin couldn't do anything but hold her close, and whisper sweet nothings in her ear. As she rocked slowly back and forth on the concrete, the shrieks of Infected started to close in upon them. Realizing the oncoming danger, he scooped her up by the legs and neck.
"Come on baby, we gotta move." Kicking open the door, and locking it behind him, he sprinted down the hall. Room after room whizzed by them, Bransin listening intently for signs of his friends. Finally finding the where they were, he rammed his shoulder into it, startling Ashlyn. He heard quick rustling inside, along with the loading of multiple weapons.
"Guys! It's me!" There were puzzled voices, and a female voice answered back.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"It's Bransin and Ashlyn! You gotta let us in!" There came more voices, some were starting to rise in tone. Soon they were all shouting and arguing. A fist could be heard making contact with flesh. Bransin finally decided that he'd had enough. Pulling out his hunting knife, he broke the lock. Pushing open the door, and scooping up Ashlyn once more, he entered slowly.
Trevor had James pinned against the wall. Both red eyed, and irritated. James' cheek was starting to darken and swell. Rebecca stood with her pistol out, tears streaming, and standing beside a sheet-wrapped figure on the table. Putting 2 and probably 4 together, he now understood the situation.
"Ahem… we have a problem."