(Thanks to Lance-Dusk, and Zro-Kemuri 9t6 for your reviews! Lovin' em! So, will Katie succumb, or shall she be saved in time? Find out!
I took off down the street, Tom following slowly behind me, still confused, yet worried. I took a corner and almost hit an unaware pedastrian, but I continued on, knowing that at this moment Katie could be dying.
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Katie was in fact starting to lose consciousness, her arms hanging limply by her sides. He mouth hung slightly open as her vision started to fade.
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"That's the right house!" I cried out to Tom, who was clutching his stomach in pain. I ignored this and ran forward, slamming my palm on the door. "Katie! Katie Fraser! Can you hear me!"
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Katie's eyes started to close as she heard the voice. 'Too... late...' she thought, just as she lost consciousness.
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I shook my head, before slamming my elbow through the window and climbing in.
"You can't do that!" Tom cried out, looking around nervously, wiping his head with his handkerchief.
"Well, this IS an emergency." I replied, before walking into her sitting room. "Katie? Can you hear me! Shit!" I quickly scoured the lower floor, before climbing up the stairs two at a time. "Hello?" I opened a door which was her bedroom. No-one was to be seen. "God damn it!" I went to open another door, but it was locked. "Katie?"
I kicked at the door, but it held itself in place. I growled and tried to push against it, but that didn't work. I was just too damn weak, I didn't have to body strength. I looked pleadingly to Tom, who had finally seemed to grasp the situation.
"M-move..." he muttered, and I moved to the side, just as he ran and shouldered the door, smashing it open. "Oh no..." he said, as I pushed past him. Katie was leaning against her bath, a wire wrapped hard around her neck. Her face was deathly pale and her eyes were closed, while her mouth was open.
"Don't just stand there!" I exclaimed, quickly moving Katie forward while Tom moved the wire off of her neck. I frantically put two fingers to Katie' s neck.
...
...
...
Thump
"Yes!" I gleefully exclaimed, before lying her down. "Call an ambulance!"
I sat back in the chair at the hospital, staring at Katie's peaceful face. She had a red mark around her neck, but that was the only evidence of her run in with death. She had only regained consciousness for a brief moment, saying thanks, before she fell asleep.
Tom had gone to find and persuade the other survivors, although I didn't really have much hope. If I hadn't had the vision, I'm not sure I'd have believed it either.
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At that moment, Vincent Cold was getting out of his lime green car, in his clown garb. He wore his heavy white makeup, red blush, green eyeliner and lipstick, with the lime green wig and the big red nose. He was wearing rather large baggy trousers with huge shoes and a suit jacket with a wilting flower sticking out of the end. He staggered forward, before groaning and taking another swig from his bottle of wine he had stolen from the table of the last party he had went to.
Vincent had just had a very bad day at work. He'd managed to crash his car into the wall of the house, before stumbling in a screaming that nobody loves him, and even threatened he'd kill the kids of the parents because he lost his own child. He had ran away before they called the police, and was now looking at his car, which he had crashed against a lamppost.
"No... nobody love me..." he slurred, swaying backwards and stumbling into the road. "I... might'a well just... die..." He managed to cross the road, but then realised he had forgotten his other wine bottle, and crossed the road again, when a blaring horn made him groggily turn.
The car stopped inches from him, the driver quickly getting out of the car, but oddly not cursing.
"Vincent? Vincent Cold?" The man called out, grabbing Vincent by the shoulders.
"Who're you..."
"Tom White. B-but you're in a bad condition, what happened? Come on; let's get you somewhere warm, I'll call someone to get your car. Have you got any injuries, anything?"
"Meh..." Vincent practically collapsed in the back seat of Tom's car, falling asleep. Tom shook his head, marvelling at the coincidence that he was almost about to kill a survivor.
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Sweat poured down James King's face as he gave the punching bag a hard right, followed by a left. He strafed to the side and continued to pummel the bag. The old warehouse was abandoned, and had been made into a underground training centre for all sorts of fighting: boxing, wrestling, etc. The matches are held every Saturday, in which it's an anything goes 'fight fest' using any hand to hand means necessary of beating the opponent senseless.
At that moment, it was empty apart from James who was dressed in only shorts, showing off his ripped abs and broad shoulders.
An oily squeak was heard, and the owner walked in, a man named Cameron Sade. "Oh? King? It's you; I wondered what the racket is about. You came back."
"I never left." James grunted, kicking the bag.
Cameron's eye widened slightly. "What? You've been here for twelve hours, constantly training?"
"Yes."
"I hope you ARE taking breaks though. Over exertion can kill you."
"I sure it can."
"Are you listening to me? You need to get the right amount of sleep for your big match for the belt tomorrow. You are the one everyone is betting on to win. I at least want you to make it to the match." Cameron said, adjusting his suit.
James stopped, and wiped a towel over his face. "Yeah, sure. I probably should go now anyway." He pulled on his white vest and changed into his jeans quickly.
"Good." Cameron said after the pause. "You going the beat the so called 'Monster' I just know it. The glory will be all yours."
"I know. The freak won't know what hit him. He'll be down before he knows it." Chris cracked his knuckles, and walked out of the door.