Where Do We Go From Here
Fluffy142
A/N: Hello everybody, and welcome back to WDWGFH. I sort of lied about the "next week" post, so I'm gonna try to pound out two chapters this week! I promise that there will be action and zombies and other stuffs. If you have any suggestions for the next few chapters, post them in the comments below, and I will surely write them around anything but what you suggested. HAHAHAHAHA! Now, back to the matter at hand… |=3. Music suggestion for this chapter: The Path (A New Beginning) at the second break, and "Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites" at the third
Chapter 13: Broken
The bloaters went down without a hitch. We spent the rest of the day clearing out the dead Infected before the cordyceps were released in the building. There seemed to be no end to the amount of Infected on the floor. All of us used every last bit of ammunition, and bloaters don't seem to like being peppered with pistol rounds. We were knee high in shit before we came here. The Morale has dropped to an all-time low, and there's really nowhere to go from here. I sigh as I look around the concrete building.
"Alright… Anyone know what we do know?" Even I don't have a plan for the future.
"I don't know about you guys, but we really need to get going. Who knows what else is gonna come crawling through those doors."
"James is right. We need to get out of here, and now would be the best time to do that." James warily skirted around the dead bloaters. The rifle in his hands held close like a blanket.
"Wait. Where's Bransin?" Rebecca sounded nervously from where she stood 20 ft. away. We all looked at each other, and sprinted towards the door. Kicking open what's left of the metal door, I sprinted towards the burning pile of Infected at the rear of the building.
"Bransin," No answer. "Bransin!" He's kneeling beside two large mounds of dirt, and a 9mm to his head. I start to sprint towards him, but he's already pulled the trigger. Falling to the ground, I feel the burning in my leg, and look down to see blood oozing from a large gash on my calf.
"What do you think you're doing Trevor?" His voice is calm and bitter. "That was just a warning shot, you won't want to know where I put the next one," He casually walks over and gestures towards my head. "You're the reason she's dead, and you're the reason why I suffer so deeply…" A grin builds on his face, and puts the pistol to my forehead.
"Go ahead, I've done enough already. If you want me dead so badly, do it." An even wider grin spreads across my face as he slowly pulls back the trigger. The shot rings in my ears and blackness clouds my vision. I blink a few times, to see if it's real, and nothing happens. I have only one thing on my mind before I enter the Void, and it feels as if that's ripped away too. Sounds start to churn around me, muffled at first, but slowly become clearer. They kind of sound like someone saying my name, but all I feel is pain. But if I'm dead… how can-
"Trevor wake the fuck up!" A hand swats my face repeatedly, and cool water drenches my head. Rebecca and James both standing over me, but everything still sounds muffled. Instinctively, I reach to my ear, and my hand comes back covered in blood.
"Aww… fuck! What the hell?" Even my own words are muted. I kind of feel bad for my mom, always complaining of her "ears are bleeding." I guess when you're 3 years old, you get pretty annoying.
"Hey… Guess what? How does Moses make his coffee? Hebrews it." I laugh, though it turns into a chuckle of pain. It was still funny, though I barely heard it.
"Ugh… where the hell'd you get that one?" I can't even say it with a straight face.
"Where do you think I got it?"
"Obviously someplace stupid." We all chuckle for a few seconds, though there's still sounds of movement from where Bransin lies in the snow. Sitting up slowly, I take in the damage around us. Bransin's entire chest it blown to bits, I could've put my hand inside without any trouble. I'm covered in his blood, tissue, and small bone fragments. My calf still hurts like shit, and I really hope that Bransin didn't have AID's.
"How're you doin'?" James starts to listen around for any sign of Infected, the 300 Winchester slung over his shoulder. Damn, my dad had some powerful shit lying around the house. It'll take a deer's head off its neck.
"Huh… this thing didn't even kick!" James looks fondly at the gun.
"Well, you know my dad almost as well as I do… how're we doin' on ammo?"
"Uummm…" Rebecca empties the El Diablo. "About three rounds."
"That things called 'the Devil' for a reason, you know." James really paid attention in Spanish 1. "I've got a few for everything… I can't really say that it'll be smooth sailing from here." James shivers against the growing wind.
"Ugh! The weather's not getting any better, we need to get moving!" Rebecca seems to be as cold as I feel inside. Why the hell would Bransin go to that length to kill me for something I didn't do? It just doesn't make sense. I look back at his mutilated body, and wonder, what made him snap like that?
"Trevor! You comin'?" Rebecca's voice brings me back to reality, and I turn and catch up to my friends.
"So, where to now?"
"You'd know that answer better than I do." I point out across the mountains where we stand, and in the distance, there's a large school.
"Well, if we've come this far, we need to get going." I can see a flicker of light in her eyes as we all sprint down the mountain. We all laugh and joke around, more than we have in the past 20 years. But there's still something gnawing on the back of my mind; something that I've ignored since before the Infection. I guess that can wait a little while longer. Snapping back into reality, I narrowly avoid running into the large sycamore tree 3 feet away. We all laugh at my stupidity. About halfway down the mountain, we have to stop and catch our breath.
"Oh shit! Hold on, I need to catch my breath!" We had stopped at an old gas station at the bottom of the mountain, but there seemed to be nothing to worry about inside. We found a can of spaghetti, but other than that, the place was virtually useless. We were about to head out, when we heard James calling from behind the counter.
"Hey Guys! Check this out!" Rebecca and I dropped the useless items we had been inspecting and vaulted over the shattered neon glass, and into the small garage behind it. "Take a look at this shit." James whipped off the canvas cover, and revealed the cherry red Ford Raptor.
"Fuck! Where the hell did this guy get a fucking Raptor?" Rebecca seems almost as excited as I am to see this. "C'mon! Start it up!" She's jumping up and down with excitement. I start to search the gas station even more feverishly. Finally reaching a large metal door, I turn the handle. Shit! Locked. Pulling out my hunting knife, I jam it into the groove of the door, pushing down hard, I break the lock. The resounding clang, sounded through the small store. Turning the handle once more, I open the door. James and Becca both crane their necks to see what's inside.
Immediately, a large mass falls on top of me. Reacting instinctively, I plunge the knife into its chest, gut, and neck. Nothing really happened, but the following stench hit's us like a wrecking ball. We all cringe as the former owner of the store is rolled off of me.
"Damn, looks like he forgot where the keys were too." James covers his face with the sleeve of his jacket. We can't help but chuckle at the wise crack. James helps me to my feet, and I pluck all seven sets of keys off the wall hook. Searching through them, I find what I'm looking for.
"Thar she blows." I smile at the large key with a ford emblem engraved on it. Smiling broadly, I toss the rest of the keys back to the floor of the closet. "Well, would you like a firsthand experience of some state-of –the-art technology?" Running over to where we left the Raptor, I hop into the front seat. Waiting for James and Rebecca to get in, I put on the seatbelt.
"C'mon! Let's see how she runs!" James sounds like a 5-year-old on Christmas.
"Hurry up! Put that bitch in the ignition!"
"Alright… buckle up!" Without hesitation, I plug my Ipod into the radio, and turn the key in the ignition. It starts up instantly, and the radio comes to life with the pounding sounds of my Dubstep playlist.
"FUCK! YEAH, BITCHES!" I get out, and open the garage door. Hopping back inside, I rev the engine slightly to warm it up. "We're sleeping well tonight!" The simple thought of heat in the growing cold shot the morale through the roof.
Putting it in drive, I slowly pull out of the garage, and watch as the evening sunlight glints off the cleanly polished hood, the V8 engine quietly hums to the slight pressure of the gas pedal. I keep the same pace of 2 mph, until we hit the main road.
"Trevor, what are you doing?" Rebecca sounds nervous in the back seat, as I stop completely. A large, nasty grin spreads across my face.
"I've always wanted to try this."
"What are you saying: 'I've always wanted to try this.' What is th-" She doesn't have time to answer before I rev the engine, and peel out at 7,000 rpm. The Raptor takes off like a bullet, and it's barely been 5 seconds, before we're barreling down the road at 127 mph.
"Jesus, Trevor! Can you go any faster?" She's curled up into a ball in the passenger seat. I look over, give her one of my "you shouldn't have said that" looks, and flip on the 4-wheeldrive button. The extra force of two more wheels jerks us forward to about 135. Laughing to myself, with James' whoops of happiness in the back seat, I slow us down to a regulated 65 mph.
Smiling more than I have in 20 years, we pass a sign: "Welcome to Wyoming population 43,826" Although the population number was scratched out, and now read 2,347, I couldn't help but smile even more.
Where Do We Go From Here
Will Continue Soon
Maybe Later Than You Think
Fluffy-142