They Left Four Dying - Chapter 7
Craig Tucker was never a man of many words. Everyone knew that; it didn't actually need to be said. That made him hard to read, and hard to befriend, because of the eternally lazy expression on his face that some might mistake for arrogance. This also meant that those who never got to know him would never know the truth behind that curtain of beige and quiet.
Craig gritted his teeth as he forced himself up from the ground, his heartbeat pounding deafeningly in his ears and his chest abnormally heavy. A quick assessment led him to believe that he had broken a few ribs; it felt like one of his old football injuries, but worse. Just as the fog of pain, heat and confusion was clearing from Craig's senses, a scream cut through the air, grabbing him by the throat and ripping him into urgent consciousness From a short distance away his eyes landed on the sight of his football teammate being slammed viciously on the ground by a behemoth of a zombie.
Stan then falls silent, his arms limp.
Craig had encountered one of those before. This marked the second time he had failed to notice and avoid an attack from its kind. The beast had separated them so far from their little group that Craig could barely make them out in the distance, hollering in their direction but looking nowhere close to being able to help. And at this very moment, it seemed that the charger was terrifying close to claiming one of the few people that Craig could call a friend in the world.
And that wouldn't do at all. No sir.
Craig felt a twinge of anger rise in his throat. He spotted his rifle lying next to where he had fallen from the charger's grasp. In a single fluid motion, Craig tucks his foot under its muzzle and kicks the weapon up into his waiting hands. A pull of the charging handle. Release, round enters chamber. Unclick safety. 3 seconds flat. Craig didn't let out any dramatic yell as he raced in the direction of his friend; he wasn't one to waste energy on emotional outbursts. There were only two monosyllabic thoughts running through his head as he sped towards the massive zombie and started to unload his weapon into its back whilst on the run.
Shoot.
Kill.
The party of four ran as quickly as their legs could carry them towards their friends who had been drawn away from their protection. In all of their stomachs was the feeling of dread and helplessness, a not-entirely unfamiliar feeling considering their setting and the events of the past few days. Kenny stole a glance to his right and saw Kyle, cheeks reddened with anger and fear and desperation that his friend might be in mortal danger. Cartman panted heavily, dragging a little behind them but somehow still keeping pace, which was perhaps a mark of his awareness of the potentially deadliness of their situation.
But even in the midst of his own running and his own worrying and his own riding of an adrenaline high, Tweek caught Kenny's eye, and what Kenny saw surprised him. Gone was the jittery-ness, the hair tugging, and any trace of anxiety. Instead, Kenny saw what seemed like a flash of fury running across the blond kid's face, and an iron-grip on the magnum that Kenny had passed him just minutes ago.
Kenny shrugged it off. He had more urgent matters to deal with right now.
When they were finally at proper attacking distance to the scene of the crime, Kenny did a double-take, his concern for Stan's wellbeing suddenly pushed to the back of his mind by the absurdity of the scene that his eyes were taking in. Kenny had seen Craig pop the boomer before he and Stan were charged into oblivion just seconds before, and knew that some of the splashback had gotten onto Stan's shirt. Logic would dictate an incoming hoard of zombies that could finish off their group in seconds; they were out in the open, after all.
When logic didn't describe to Kenny was the sight of rotting corpses strewn in a nearly circular fashion; rings and rings and rings of the dead undead with an unconcious Stan at its center. And as more zombies emerged, they were promptly and instantaneously mowed down by rapid-fire rounds from a rifle that was smoking violently from the exertion of having its firing mechanism overworked, clenched in the hands of one Craig Tucker, who was brandishing the weapon in a manner that would make even Rambo himself proud. He had never seen Craig so...active before.
"Oi! Dumbasses! Don't stand in the line of fire! Get the fuck over here!"
The group blinked at the command and hastened to join Craig at his defensive position, the insult bypassing even Cartman's trigger-happy linguistic centers. Upon reaching his best friend Kyle instantaneously dropped to his feet, hands all over Stan as he hastened to assess the damage that had been done to his best friend. Kenny, Cartman and Tweek joined Craig in a circle, protecting the two boys at its center, firing their weapons to keep the advancing hoard at bay. As it turned out, there were far more zombies in rural South Park than one might expect.
Then, a second surprise.
Kenny was already mentally prepared to have to deal with the zombies that Tweek was facing as well. Based on his initial assessment of the kid it didn't seem that Tweek would have it in him to pull any sort of trigger. But just as Kenny beat a zombie that had wandered too close to him into the ground with the butt of his rifle, he caught a glimpse of what Tweek was doing next to him and instantly stopped his bashing of brains, his jaw dropping as he watched Tweek firing the magnum in his hand as quickly as you would fire an automatic rifle, his trigger finger not ceasing in the least as he wielded the gun with alarming, almost inhuman accuracy. Brains were flying in all directions.
And this, coupled with the fact that the magnum was an unstable gun with unpredictable recoil, made Tweek's handling of the pistol top-notch. There wasn't a single twitch in his entire body as he scored headshot after headshot after headshot. An empty magazine didn't phase him; Tweek released the magazine from the weapon and let it fall to the floor whilst snatching a new clip from his pocket with his other hand, practically smashing the loaded magazine into the gun and continuing his bloody endeavor. He barely wasted 2 seconds.
What the fuck, thought Kenny. Who knew Tweekers was an expert gunslinger? There was no way in hell he would have made that kind of bet a minute ago.
Kenny was then shaken out of his surprise when Tweek fires a round alarmingly close to his head and splatters the brains of a zombie that was about to take a bite out of his shoulder. Kenny caught the steel in Tweek's eyes and gulped before standing back up to face the hoard again, trying to pretend that Tweek did not frighten him in that split second where they had locked eyes.
"He's okay!" Kyle had never sounded more relived in his life as he nearly fell over in exhaustion. "He's just knocked out, but he should be okay. We should get to safety so I can do a proper check on him, though!"
"I don't see how we're going to be able to leave this place, Jew."
It wasn't like Cartman to get pessimistic over anything at all, but as his fingers brushed the holster on his waist to remove more shotgun shells, the reduced weight of the ammunition belt stood out to him, and undesirably so.
"I'm running out of ammunition, and these fuckers don't seem to be stopping anytime soon. Where the hell are they coming from, anyway!"
Craig and Tweek didn't say anything in reply, but judging by the amount of time they had already spent abusing their triggers, Kenny could tell that they were almost fresh out of ammo too. And so was he; his FN SCAR was completely out of rounds, and his sniper rifle was half-spent. They were in desperate danger of being stuck in the middle of South Park with zero ammunition in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, with nightfall rapidly approaching. Even considering the numerous dangerous situations that they had faced in the past few days, this one seemed particular ominous.
"Shit. I'm out."
"Nyagh! Me too!"
"We need an exit. Now."
Empty words. Kenny himself could see no way out. They're getting closer and closer. Stan lies on the ground, hurt for the second time. And just like the first time they could do nearly nothing to help him. The others are clearly exhausted. The days of fighting were taking their toll on the group. They were high schoolers. They should be going to school and getting detentions and hitting on girls, not fighting for their lives against mindless undead. It took every ounce of willpower in Kenny's mind to not scream, or throw in the towel to their seemingly inevitable fate. Was this it? Does their journey end here?
Then Kenny feels a tug on the waist of his jeans. He looks down and sees Kyle unclipping the pipe bomb that he had previously left hanging around his waist, forgotten in the midst of chaos. Kyle looks completely calm.
They lock eyes.
Kyle flicks a switch. The beeping starts. It's loud. All heads momentarily turn to the center of the circle. With a big breath in, Kyle reels back, winds up his pitching arm, and chucks the pipe bomb clear over Cartman's head. All eyes, including the eyes of the undead drawn by the loud beeping, follow its trajectory. It lands a considerable distance away on the path on which they had been walking before they were ambushed by the boomer and the charger.
In an instant, there's mad dash on the part of all the zombies towards the deadly object. Kenny stared in awe as zombies actually pushed past them to get closer to the object. He then remembers what Kyle had read from one of Mephisto's notes. Something about loud, high-pitched sounds being zombie attractants. He then remembers that he never did attach any sort of beeping device onto the bomb when he had been crafting it. His mind flashes to Kyle in wonderment. Had the redhead anticipated this would happen, and re-engineered the weapon?
He instantly regretted doubting Kyle in the first place. Who knew that in the midst of danger that he'd be the one who was most composed, and the most able in terms of clarity.
Kenny then feels a ferocious tug on his arm. Only then did he realise that there were no zombies surrounding them; their brainlessness leading them towards the beeping explosive device on the ground, which was now being swarmed by a horrific mass of crawling bodies. Kyle has an iron grip on Kenny's forearm. The others had gone ahead towards the corn fields, the shortest path they had to the school. Stan was on Cartman's back, still unconscious. All decorum out the window, Kyle lands a singing slap to the side of Kenny's head, surprising him. He screams.
"Kenny, we need to fucking run!"
A nightmare.
In theory it made sense, at least to Cartman. The school was the final destination, so the shorter the distance it would take them to arrive there, the least likely they would die on the way. It was simple math, the kind he could have done even in elementary. The one thing Cartman didn't account for was the fact that the shortest distance would bring them through a corn field, right at the heart of harvesting season. This meant the the corn were growing well; too well. So well, in fact, that the plants towered above them. Add that to diminishing daylight and what do you get, kids? That's right...death! Ten points for Gryffindor.
Kyle was always the better student between the two. The one with the book smarts, and as much as Cartman hated to hate it, the only kid his age in South Park who had the capabilities to challenge his own wit. And this time, Kyle had made the most sense. Take a longer path that was less claustrophobic and with visibility that wasn't practically zero, and maybe they'd have a better chance at survival.
But then there was a charger and a boomer. And a hoard the size of the armies that sieged Troy. All plans were out the window, and the one remaining path to not-death was through the corn fields. But Cartman wasn't feeling so smart even though they had unwittingly ended up following his earlier suggestion, oh no. As he pushed past endless towering greens whilst holding his shotgun in his hand, encumbered by a comatose Stan and his rifle on his back, a part of him wished he had worked out more before embarking on this endless mad dash for survival.
The boys had ended up forming a chain of sorts. "Stick together!" Kenny had shouted from the rear, with Kyle accompanying him. They ended up watching the back to ensure that the group didn't get ambushed from their asses, but this strategy didn't help too much as the corn was so thick that zombies could technically jump at them from the sides and they wouldn't spot them till it was too late. No one said anything though, so as not to be pessimistic. Craig was at the front, pistols in hand. It was probably the best location for him, considering how he probably had the best reflexes in their group. And where Craig was, Tweek was sure to follow close behind. That left Cartman sandwiched at the center, who was piggybacking an unconscious Stan. The formation was tight due to the low visibility that the corn granted.
But by far the scariest thing wasn't the corn, the encroaching darkness or the lack of knowledge of when they would be attacked. The scariest thing was the fact that they had no idea when the corn fields would end.
"Are we almost there?"
"No clue." Craig huffed from the front nasally. "I can't see shit."
"Just keep moving forward. We'll make it out of here eventually."
They couldn't move fast if they wanted to stay close, which led to them moving at a snail's pace. The fact that they were all nearly completely exhausted after the last bout wasn't helping. They all desperately needed a pick-me-up. Cartman sucked on a piece of candy that he had taken from the supermarket as he willed himself to keep going, methodically fiddling with the safety on his shotgun.
"If we make it out of this alive, I'm gonna start working out."
Kyle and Kenny chuckle at the comment from the back. Craig snorts.
"Yeah, right."
"I'm totally serious-ly. Of course, I don't know why I would bother considering I'm super buff already and all that without even working out, but I figure it wouldn't hurt."
"It'd hurt the ground, maybe. Imagine you running, elephant hooves all over. My God, I'd hate to be the floor in that scenario."
"...you suck, Kenny."
Kyle starts giggling uncontrollably like an eight-year-old at Kenny's joke. He's spluttering a little, grabbing his belly whilst trying to hold it in. This prompts Kenny to chuckle as well.
"It wasn't that funny, Kyle."
But Kyle can't stop laughing. The little redhead's merriment is infectious, and soon enough even Craig is biting his lip to keep from losing his facade of complete nonchalance, and Tweek's laughing too, albeit in a jittery, nervous fashion. The more the laughing goes around the louder it gets, and soon enough Kenny and Kyle are hugging each other and nearly collapsed into a pile of giggle-jello, and Craig is openly letting loose the stresses of the past few days by taking a few well-deserved snorts of laughter. Cartman's the last to break considering he's the butt of the joke, but eventually he does, smirking widely as the group continues moving forward.
"I hate you guys."
"No, Cartman, you don't." Kenny wipes his eyes and keeps a hand on Kyle's collar, moving the giggling boy forward to ensure he doesn't fall behind. "You don't hate us, and we don't hate you either. We all need each other, whether you'd admit it or not."
Cartman goes silent, then coughs awkwardly, quickly thinking of a way to cover up the corniness of the moment that had just occurred.
"Oi, Craig, are we there yet?"
"I still can't see shit. Nothing's changed. Honestly, I can't even tell if we've been moving in circles or-what the fuck!"
Tweek's scream is stifled when Craig smacks a hand over the blond's mouth, both boys taking a few hasty steps back, colliding with Cartman who was right behind them.
"Oi! What's the matter with you two!"
Craig glares ferociously and anxiously at Cartman, mouthing the words shut up. Cartman looking over Craig's shoulder, and his eyes widen. He gestures for Kenny and Kyle to be silent. Nobody is laughing now, the urgency of their situation seemingly reemerging at the sight of what was directly in front of them.
A witch. Crouching on the ground. Weeping. Claws the length of her entire torso.
Kyle gasps. Cartman raises his shotgun. Kenny puts his hand on its barrel and pushes it downwards, mouthing a firm no to Cartman. Tweek nyarghs. Craig swears under his breath. Slowly and collectively, the group huddles together and creeps backwards in the direction that they came from, inching further and further away from the witch that was blocking their straight path forward, still seemingly oblivious to their presence and content with moaning on the ground. The scene would have been comical if it wasn't so incredibly dangerous.
When they determined that they had gone far enough, the group stops. Craig grabs Tweek's hand and gestures to the group. They proceed forward again, but this time in a path that was angled in such a way that would allow them to avoid the deadly roadblock on their earlier path.
And so they proceed onwards into the abyss of corn. Daylight was nearly all but gone now, but our merry little adventurers proceed forth, ready to face whatever terrors lay ahead. They knew they would be okay as long as they had each other, and all they needed to do was to outlast the elements and not lose faith. In the midst of attempting to think positively about a horrible situation, Kyle freezes when he realises that Kenny was no longer behind him.
"Guys...where's Kenny?"
Author's Note - You know what's the good thing about a story like this? I don't need to think too deeply about putting layers of pretext to build up for something big in later chapters, like I usually like to do. Every chapter is basically a way for me to practice writing action scenes. It's lots of fun, but occasionally I need long breaks because it gets dreary.
Thank you all for reading my experiments, though. Hope you're liking it so far.
~SUITELIFEFAN
