Clip 5 – The Difference Between Shamblers and Sprinters
[AN: Wee bit of cussing here. My version of Five is not happy with Dr. Myers.]
Sam, we really need to work on your idea of 'encouragement.' I mean seriously. Of course, I've got adrenaline surging through me and I'm running all-out, so I dunno, maybe you're actually very good at your job. I'm probably not thinking all that clearly at the moment.
A burst of speed? What the hell do you think I've been doing, Doc, taking a stroll in the fucking park?
But there isn't any purpose in swearing, or in doing anything other than lengthening my stride, making sure my form is good, staying aware of my surroundings, and focusing on my breathing. My shoes pound the pavement, I'm cresting an incline and I can see Abel ahead.
And then Sam mentions the uniform – and I remember that the zom who cornered me back in Robinson Hospital wasn't wearing scrubs like the others. And I can't help it.
I look back.
Alice must've been quite pretty. She's actually still not too bad. You know. For a zombie, and all. Her skin is pasty, of course, her lips are brutally chapped and grey, and her long hair is only partly in the ponytail she probably pulled it into every day. She's pretty banged-up, with cuts, scratches and bites all up and down her arms and legs. But she's got the slender limbs of a strong runner, and she has this cute little upturned nose with a smattering of freckles that stand out even more against her pallor than they would have when she was alive. It's the eyes that are the worst, though, the way they turn to look at you even though they don't seem to see you. That vacant stare… it's like they're looking through you instead of at you.
She's closing on me, and as I look forward again, I stumble, which of course doesn't help me feel any better. I find myself wondering if she's slowed at all since she turned… or if somehow it made her even faster. I don't think I care to find out.
If they're sending out reinforcements I can't be more than a few hundred yards away. I don't believe in God, not anymore, but I'm praying anyhow, my arms pumping, my legs stretching, my feet flying.
I can see the gates.
And I can still hear Alice gaining on me.