Queen, Country, and Zombies IC

[Vonghese]

Ophiocordyceps unilateralis

It’s a fungus. Yeah, like athlete’s foot or something. It’s got a lot of potential as a cure for malaria, and oddly enough, as a red dye for food. But it’s also got a lot of weaponized potential. See, it’s got another name, the common term being ‘Zombie fungus’. It infects ants.

Once infected, the yeast spores take control of the ant’s brain and force it to seek out a perfect combination of humidity and temperature. Then the ant climbs a plant exactly 25 cm up, and buries its jaws into the stalk. Only then does it die. The fungus devours the ant from the inside out, then sprouts out the back of the head and releases its spores before the whole thing dies. It’s quite morbid.

Suppose that someone saw that and thought, ‘Gee, I wonder if we can get it to do that to humans?’ And then this person, instead of getting a girlfriend and a real life, went home to the lab and started playing God. And then, when the fungus mutated aggressively, failed to exercise due diligence. And the spores escaped.

Finally, suppose that this happened in France, and the winds carried the spores straight over the English Channel.

The rest?

It happens fast. Within three days the spores have saturated the British Isles. People begin to experience headaches, migraines, and bleeding from various orfices. Then, 24 hours after exposure, they fall over. All of them. At the same time. They collapse, and lie twitching on the ground, eyes rolling and teeth grinding.

And they lie still, for a while.

Then they stand back up.

But they’re not back.

Their eyes are empty, animalistic, insane. They have no higher thoughts, they are no better than dogs. As they claw their way out of car wrecks, the glass scores deep lacerations in their flesh. But their mindless eyes do not blink, and they do not seem to care that their life’s blood is dribbling out of their bodies. They are completely stripped of the ability to feel remorse, regret, fear, anger, or pain. There’s nothing left except for the drive to survive.

A tiny handful have survived. It’s a genetic quirk that manifests itself as the inability to properly digest raw honey or almonds. That crucial enzyme imbalance preserves humanity, such as it is. Yet even that is not enough. For the spores are prone to change. Once they have entered a hospitable body, they mutate again. And from this iteration, no one is safe. The tiniest exchange of body fluids is enough to doom the new victim.

***************************

A low growling sound reverberated through Chad, and he sat bolt upright.

His little hole had once been a pawnshop. He’d lowered the security curtain and curled up in a corner, head pillowed on his backpack, hammer loop on his wrist. When he’d fallen asleep, his dog had been curled up next to him, her back to his. Now her head was up, and she was growling. Deep-chested, she had one hell of a growl. Chad knew to listen to it.

He looked through the plate glass into the face of a zombie.

The zombie had once been a pretty girl, and it still showed despite her feral eyes and ragged hair. She was staring right back at him, pawing at the glass with a hand that had forgotten how to be human. Lips pulled back in a snarl when she saw him moving, and she redoubled her efforts to break through, though the heavy security glass was barely fazed.

Chad wasn’t concerned about her breaking in. But he sighed, stood up, and took a grip on his hammer. He unlatched the security curtain and let it up, then unlocked the door and pushed it a couple of inches open. The zombie reacted instantly, springing for the gap with feline speed and yanking the door open, coming through with a bloodcurdling howl.

But her hands were busy with the door, meaning that the only thing she had to arrest the swing of his hammer was her head. She collapsed, head shattered, across the threshold. From somewhere nearby, another zombie howled. Great. Chad grabbed the zombie under the shoulders and heaved her up, pushing her back through the door before relocking it and dropping the curtain. He swung over the counter and snapped his fingers. Tara joined him, laying flat as he made a palm-down flattening gesture. He slid to the floor as well, listening hard.

Footsteps outside. Something bumped the glass.

Then there was the sound of rending meat.

Chad grimaced and risked a peek. Two more zombies had shown up, one a middle-aged man, the other some kid. The man bore more than a passing resemblance to the girl he’d just killed…

And he was eating her. Literally.

The young stuntman shuddered and looked away. That was just… wrong.

[Stephanie96]

Sleeping on top of someones shed, even if they may no longer have a use for it, wasn't exactly ideal. Waking up to a heard of zombies trying to get at you was even less so. It was only that she felt one of them try and grab her hair that she woke up at all. If she had remained asleep for much longer, she'd have been zombie show in no time.

She scrambled to her feet, stumbling slightly as she did so and teetering dangerously close to the edge of the shed. She stomped down on one of the zombie's hands which was trying to grab her ankle. The flesh flaked off, the bones crunched and the fingers splayed in awkward directions but still the hand kept trying to grab her. Belle had seen horrific things in the past week, but what she saw next terrified her more than anything. From where the hand had split open, from where it was bleeding blood that was much too dark and much too thick and much too fast to belong to anything alive, swarms of ants were crawling out. They crawled up the zombies arm and started eating into it's already disfigured face.

Her head spun once more and Belle felt her stomach heave and bent over, throwing up what little was left in her stomach. There wasn't much to come up and what did burnt her mouth and made her retch all over again.

She blinked, straightened up and looked back at the zombie's hand. The ants were gone, it's face was still disfigured but not in the way it was after the ants had eaten it. She was hallucinating again. Letting out a slight whine, Belle turned around and looked up at the house behind her. She could probably pull herself up on the gutter but she was so weak, she doubted her ability. Then one of the zombies fell over, another one stepped on top of it and reached for her. Its fingers barely grazed her leg before she was unsteadily pulling herself up.

On the roof, Belle could see for a long while in each direction and she glanced around, trying to figure out which was the best way to go. It seemed to her like there was only one direction that seemed not to promise death and, jumping down from the roof onto the roof of the conservatory and then onto the floor, Belle headed in that direction. She crept along at first, but when it seemed she was having luck, she sped up her pace a little and got rather far, into a back alley of shops, before she encountered any trouble.

The zombie was that of a woman, clearly a hairdresser at one time, if the black tunic and wispy purple hair was anything to go by. She sprung up at Belle from behind a skip and grabbed her shoulders. Belle screamed and felt herself being pulled downwards, felt the zombie's breath on her neck before she remembered the metal nail file she had in her pocket. She reached for it and awkwardly threw her hand backwards, hoping her aim was correct. The resistance from the zombies skin told her she was and blood spurted out onto Belle's hand and bare arm and she felt her stomach flip again but ignored it. The zombie screamed in pain and it's grip loosened enough that Belle could pull herself free and kick down the nearest door. She raced into the shop and slammed shut the door behind her. The zombie slammed into it and for several minutes, tried to break in before Belle heard it stumble away, clearly having given up. That was a little unusual, from what Belle had witnessed recently. She saw what looked like an ancient chest of drawers and pushed in in front of the door, barricading herself in.

Leaning against the door for a moment, taking off her hat and fanning herself with it for a moment, Belle tried to catch her breath. Then she took her hair down, shoved it back into a pony tail and pulled it through the back of her cap, replacing it on her head. It was then that she heard the growling.
Cautiously, taking her nail file out once again, Belle began to creep towards the door at the other end of the room. She pushed it open slightly to see a dog, growling at the door. Then the man opened it and in came a little girl. A dead little girl.
Belle closed her eyes as he killed her, knowing it was what he had to do while at the same time seeing her as just a little girl, not a killing machine.

When she opened her eyes, the man was once again looking out of the window but the dog seemed to have realized her presence. She gasped slightly as it crept towards her.
Shit...

It was then, however, that her dehydration decided once and for all to get to her and, from all of the running and the stress of the attack, Belle fainted, her world turning black.

Clothes

[Maykxor]

The entire compound echoed with silence. Only the faintest of light guiding Garrens way. He had been planning this escape for almost a full month, and now it would finally be put into action. He had persuaded a fellow inmate to stir up a little ruckus outside in the yard to distract the guards and give Garren his opportune moment of escape. But it was starting to seem a little to easy. As he made his way left and right through the corridors, Garren found that the whole place almost seemed abandoned. Even the security cameras whos back and forth surveying motion that Garren had spent days memorizing had ceased their rotations. He was nearing the exit now, only one last cell block to go down. But just as he was about to round a corner, he saw the body of a rather husky prison guard passed out on the floor. "Hmphff. You'd think a 5-star hotel could afford some better help." Garren mocked as he stepped carefully over the body hoping not to disturb him. Maybe if he was lucky there would be a mass prison break already in progress while he had slept and all he would have to do would be to walk out the front door! No, he would have heard the alarms for sure. At last he saw the large metal door. The heavy frame being his last obstacle to freedom. Garren boastfully stridded towards the door but something caught his attention.

In cell 26 just off to his right lay another body. This one a convict. Garren stopped in front of the metal bars, gripping his hands around the cool poles. The man looked, well... dead. but upon closer inspection, he looked as though his entire face had been burned with acid. The skin was broken and cracked, the stench of rot filled the air. It truly looked like the guy had been dead for hours, but surely the orderlies would have removed the body sooner. Garren squatted down leaning ever closer to the metal grates, eyes squinting as they closely examined the man. There wasn't an expression of pain on the face, just a blank nothingness. Garren sat for a good 2 minutes staring watching. He didn't quite know what for. Something about it just seemed strange. Then it hit him... something was different. Sometime from the time he had been squatting to now, the dead man's eyes had opened and were staring right back at him. Garren could have sworn they hadn't been like that before. Garren's head moved back in slight surprise and the moment he did the zombie like figure lurched towards him, his arm reaching through the bars and the fingers swiping mere inches in front of Garren's face. "God! Damn!" Garren shouted as he stumbled backward onto his ass. He didn't know what to make of this. The man looked like a tortured soul from the holocaust. The gears in Garren's mind started grinding at 160 Km/H. The silence, the lack of guard, the body both in the hallway and here in the cell, and now... Garren heard the heaving groan of a fat man trying to stand up but it was distorted, undead-like. "Well Shit..." Garren hurriedly stumbled to his feet, looking over his shoulder to see the shadow of the prison guard as he came around the corner. Garren started to take off towards the door, the undead creature accelerating towards him as he did.

The faster Garren went, the faster the lumbering prison guard seemed to go. He was almost to the door. His fists slammed against the metal door to cushion his collision as he reached the door, the zombie coming up on his heels.

"Please insert passcode" A soothing female voice broadcasted over the speaker as a keyboard flipped out from the wall.

"OH come on!" Garren shouted as he pounded the door again for good measure, his fingers dancing over the keys typing in; "oly oly oxen free" the stupid code that the stupid guards had stupidly set to keep the stupid prisoners locked up with who were now stupid mindless killing beings.

The door opened with a hiss and Garren dashed through the slip then slammed the door shut just in time to hear the impact of a highspeed pursuer slamming it's mushy body against the now closed door with a splat followed by a painful moan as the fat guard slumped to the floor. Garren couldn't help but let out a slight victorious chuckle. Free at last. His back pressed against the door as Garren caught his breath. The gravel road before him would lead into town where he hoped to start fresh. Still in the market, but fresh. But there, in the middle of the open gate, lay the body of the gate guard out of his post. Probably where he had fallen when the virus took hold.

The body was starting to stand up and Garren gave it a small smirking smile, pulling out his drug needle-shank. "Come at me bro." And he leapt to the being before it came to him.

****

That was two weeks ago. That was the day Garren thought he would be a free man once again. But it was only the beginning. After escaping the impound, Garren found the city to be in complete ruin. Vacant, but in ruin. The world he remembered from his pre-prison days had dissappeared in a matter of months. For all he knew, he was the only survivor. He had spent the past couple of days pent up in a gas station on the corner of "Life" and "Hopeful" street. Ironic considering.

He sat in the middle of the liquor isle, with a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hands. The windows were boarded shut and a lock on the door so as long as he kept out of sight and made little noise, aside from a few run ins, he was safe. Drunk to hell, but safe. Then came the scraping pounding of a zombie at the glass door. "Who's there?" Garren asked with a smug chuckle fueled by the alcohol. But eventually the damned beast broke through and lumbered to stand in Garren's isle. "OH! Mr. zomble, you look good. Have you been working out?" Garren gripped the shelf to help himself up, the zombie growling a hunger shout in response. Garren cupped his ear. "Hush up? Didn't your mother ever teach you it was rude to snarl?" The zombie started it's run and Garren grabbed a case of beer and threw it at the cursed being to slow it. He dodged into another isle and pushed his back on the shelf causing it to tip over and crush the thing. The sound of shattering glass and the smell of rich alcohol filling the air. "It's good stuff, yea?" Garren said rather sluggishly as he stumbled to regain his balance. He bent over to pick up a full, unharmed bottle and staggered out of the gas station in his own, zombie like way. "Gotta be... stealthy, act the zomble... BEEE the zomble *hic*" He wobbled along till he saw a gaggling of zombies gathered around a reather unsuspecting pawnshope and made his way over to the side where he would be unnoticed. He could almost be mistaken for a zombie by the way he pulled his body about, his arms extended for balance. He pressed his face against the window and smiled waving foolishly. The zombies on the opposite side. "Helluuu doggie." he called out to the dog, as well as the man and woman who accompanied it.

[Fell Euphoria]

-Connor-

Connor sat bolt upright. There was something wrong. He could feel it. And then he heard the noise. It was a grumble. Low and deep but there was something else. There. It was a thump light and not very rhythmic. And again. It was coming from Daniel's room.

Connor stood from his bed. They were in a nice hotel, upper class, just outside the city. His instructor had apparently gotten a free upgrade and had wanted to give something nice to Connor and his sister. Daniel had become a surrogate father to Connor, and by extension Abigail. He truly cared about Connor and Abby and wanted to give them the best he could, so when the opportunity to upgrade to a suite had arisen he couldn't give up the chance to surprise the kids.

The suite was set up so that Connor and Abby were in one room, which exited into a small hallway. The hallway lead to a main room which was a cross between a living and dinning room. From there you had three choices. You could; turn right and exit into the hotel's main hallway, turn left and go into a small kitchen area, or go straight across into Daniel's room.

Once outside of their room Connor confirmed that the thumping was definitely coming from Daniel's room. He approached cautiously. Something was definitely wrong. "Daniel?" Connor called softly.

For a moment the thumping stopped, then increased in both speed and force. Connor moved to stand by the door. Once there he was certain the moaning and thumping was coming from Daniel's door. "Daniel are you in there?" Only more thumping.

Connor had a choice to make. He quickly walked into the main room and grabbed his combat saber. Something was not right, and Connor wasn't sure what to expect on the other side of that door. With his combat saber firmly in his grasp he twisted the nob and leaped back into a defensive stance.

A creature that looked hideously disfigured leaped at him. Connor brought his blade down in a fierce slash across the chest of the being but other then splitting open the top coat of the monstrosities clothes it didn't appear to have much effect. Connor took another jump back and surveyed his opponent.

To his horror he realized that this creature was his instructor Daniel, and that the slash had actually split not only his mentors night shirt, but also left a terrible wound on the man's chest. Connor faltered for a moment, but then Daniel lunged and Connor's training kicked into effect. In one smooth movement he brought the tip of the blade up. It caught on Daniel's sternum and then was carried by Daniel's own momentum up, through the bottom of the chin and deep into his brain.

Connor, ever the professional didn't lose grip of his blade as he stepped back and pulled the saber from his mentor's brain. He flicked his wrist and specks of blood and grey matter flew off the blade. Without thinking he went and grabbed the cloth and oil he had to care for his blade. He began methodically cleaning it and then slid it back home into it's sheath.

Connor moved as if in a trance, waking his sister, lightly placing his index finger to his lips to show her she needed to be quiet. "Pack for travel, light and fast." He said his voice barely a breath. She looked at him wide eyed and then moved quickly throwing her spare clothes into her duffle bag. She threw on her coat and was standing by the door, waiting for her brother.

He was a bit more methodical, rolling his clothes up and fitting them neatly in his duffle. He also put in his fencing gear. He wasn't sure why but he just refused to part with it. He put on his belt, which he had customized years ago to fit his blade. He slid his sheath into the belt fitting it there firmly. He glanced at his practice saber, but for some reason he knew he wouldn't be practicing for a long time.

-Abigail-

Getting out of the hotel had been a nightmare. Abigail wanted to believe that this was just one of her vivid dreams, but deep down she knew it was real. She followed Connor out of the hallway. They heard dull thumps from inside some of the rooms, and muffled moans, but only ran into three of the creatures on their floor.

Connor insisted on stopping at each cleaning cart they passed by and every time he went through it, pouring some liquids into bottles, mixing them carefully and pouring them into little miniature shampoo containers he emptied on the carts. He would also occasionally stuff one of the towels into his duffle. He also insisted on closing every open door they passed in the hallway, though Abigail couldn't fathom why.

They passed up the elevators and instead chose to take the stairs. They walked cautiously down the steps, both wincing at even the slightest noise they made. Occasionally they could hear thumping coming from behind the heavy reinforced doors of each floor.

For the rest of her life Abigail and Connor would be left to ponder what truly happened when they reached the lobby and exited the hotel. To Abigail it seemed as though Connor moved like a machine. He simply walked through the zombies ahead of her, the whirlwind of his blade keeping them safe as they walked calmly towards the exit. Connor remembers the incident more as a mad dash with him randomly flailing his blade at the zombies, both he and his sister only escaping the wrath of the beasts through a combination of miracle and luck.

The next thing Abigail knew however they were out and safe and on their way. Where they were going? What was going on? How were they gonna survive? Who knew? Abigail certainly didn't, but there was one thing Abby did know, and that was that her brother Connor would keep her safe and protect her. Just like always. Her brother Connor would always keep her safe.

***

-Connor-

Connor stepped carefully into the Allcocks Outdoors Store. It had been a long time since the escape from the hotel, and that time had taught Connor a lot about fighting these things. He carefully walked through the store stepping almost silently through the large shop. He glanced around and that was when he saw it. A lone zombie that hadn't left the store. From it's uniform Connor guessed that it had once been an employee here. He lifted his saber and crept up quietly.

In an instant the zombie turned, but it was too little too late. Connor brought the blade in a swift smooth motion easily into one of the eye sockets. He gave the blade a light twist and pulled out with a fierce movement. The zombie dropped to the ground, dead for good.

Abigail moved out of Connor's shadow scouring the store. They had been looking for a shop like this since they left the hotel and she practically squeaked with joy when they found what they were looking for.

Abigail held up compound hunting bow, still neatly in its container, it had a draw weight of 75 pounds but the mechanism gave it a let-off of 80%. They didn't stop their search however until she found a quiver of twenty four broad headed big game hunting arrows. She grinned at Connor and he smiled lightly back. Killing the zombies was still pretty rough for him so he was looking for something to make his life easier. He found them in the miscellaneous section.

Connor remembered watching a special on them on some tv show about fighting. It had called them the mobs ideal weapon. He cut open the packaging to two ice picks sticking them in his belt and he jammed an extra three into his duffle. "Well sis?" He asked in the whisper that they had become accustomed to using, "Shall we go?" He asked.

"Yes," She said smiling. "We shall." And with that they left the small shop that had, in a way, given them a real chance at surviving, and having some semblance of a life.

[Vonghese]

There was a loud whack and Chad jumped, whirling to face this new threat.

When his dog wagged her tail, she did so with extreme power and flagrant disregard for the surroundings. Her tail had cracked against a case like someone had punched it, but she didn’t seem to notice, being more intent on the cute brunette that had just passed out on his floor. Chad sighed, it hadn’t been the first time she’d spooked him like that.

Wait a minute… cute brunette? On his floor? What… where had she come from?

Careful to keep out of the line of sight of the zombies outside, he hurried over, hammer in hand. Tara was already sniffing the girl, tail still wagging, completely unconcerned about the fact that she’d dropped in completely unannounced. She was like that. Great for zombies, terrible for people. Chad snapped his fingers and pointed; the dog left the girl reluctantly and sat down a short distance away, ears perked.

The girl’s lips were cracked and parched, she clearly needed water. Chad grabbed his bag and one of his precious bottles of water, dribbling a little into her mouth. “Come on,” he muttered quietly. “Wake up. Waaaake up…”

[adriane]

She was tired. She was tired of walking, her leg muscles*were burning. She was tired of running, her lungs were smoldering. She was*tired of looking around her all the time, for zombies that only wanted to*satisfy their hunger. She was tired of the fear that gripped her whenever she*saw another human- the fear it might be her mother. She was tired of*everything. But her job was not done, and it wasn’t time for resting. No time*for feet up and greasy donuts. There was only time to keep moving to the coast,*keep her eyes peeled for a boat or a plane or some way of getting home. Nothing
was going to stop her from going back. She’d drive the machine herself if she
had to. Whatever would get her home.
*
She was pushing her legs to*keep going when she saw it. Or more specifically, them. Was it her eyes playing*a trick on her, or was it true? She had come across other survivors only the*other day, but there was so little of them. And so many zombies. Surely she was*not the only survivor, but how many others could have made it? To ensure it was*not just a trick of the light, Hunt lifted the mask up onto her head for a*moment. No, they looked pretty human. She was close enough to make out the*color of their hair, their wardrobes. They were moving with the composure of*someone still in their right mind, still functioning with thought processes.
*
But because one can never be
too careful. Just because there were so few humans did not mean that they had*all become angels. If anything, it had made them worse. No one to define where*the line drawn at too far was. So as she approached, she slid the hockey mask*back down her face to where all you could see of her was her caramel eyes. She*slipped the silver and blue bat out from her backpack, and threw it over her shoulder.*Her eyes narrowed at the man and woman, trying to figure how they had survived*as well. Had they been hiding out in the store they had just exited? Or perhaps*somewhere else, and had only now stumbled upon the sporting goods.*

[Fell Euphoria]

-Connor-
Connor glanced around. Years of being a street rat had helped fine tune his sense of danger and something felt... Off. It wasn't the same on edge he had felt since the Zombies started. It was almost as though someone was watching him. He stopped, Abby continued a few steps then turned to look at her brother. She was drawing breath to complain loudly when he placed a finger lightly to his lips for silence. He strained his ears. He didn't think he heard anything off, but realistically that meant very little. "Be ready." He said softly, he carefully drew his saber, and pulled one of his new ice picks out carefully. "Something is off." His words were the quietest of whispers.

-Abigail-
She was annoyed. Her brother was so weird and paranoid sometimes, but either way, on a few occasions his paranoia had really paid off, and even saved their lives. She took off her new bow, and drew an arrow. She knocked it but didn't yet draw. She was waiting for a target to sight. With the draw weight she could probably hold it for a good couple of minuets, but it was best to conserve her strength in case she needed to shoot several times.

[adriane]

It was only after the woman had pulled her bow and arrow out that Hunt heard it. The growl her ears had become alert to listening for in such short time. Before she could finish turning around Hunt heard another one, a little farther away. When she stopped moving she found not one, but two disgusting, blood covered creatures bolting towards her. They were far enough away that if she ran fast enough, she could get away. But they were gaining quickly, she had to go now. So after the moment’s hesitation Hunt turned on her heel and raced forward towards the Sporting Goods store.

If she had not been visible before, she certainly was now. Sprinting across the parking lot, she must have looked like quite a sight. Between her police jacket and dirty, blood stained jeans, the metal bat in her hand and the bright blonde hair swinging behind her (not to mention the old and also bloody hockey mask obstructing the view of her face) she probably looked like a hallucination. ‘Too dirty and bloody to be human still, but running that fast? No way was it a zombie. It must be some cross between the two my mind conjured up to keep me company in this lonely apocalypse.’

Within a minute Hunt had jumped up onto the curb, streaked past the people standing idly by, and pushed her way into the store. She didn’t need to look behind her to know that the zombies were close enough they would soon be in the store with her. Now, if you stop for a moment, you might find yourself wondering why Hunt ran from the zombies. She’s a strong woman with a weapon, she could easily take two zombies on. It’s because no matter how strong and prepared you might be, all it takes is one bite, or one bit of blood in your mouth or an open wound. That one tiny thing can corrupt you- or at least that’s what all those zombie stories used to tell her. Back when this was all a big fantasy.

Once she had taken a few turns down a couple different aisles Hunt stopped, trying to breathe as silently as she could. She had to catch her breath it was true, but to be caught for breathing too loud would truly be a tragic end. Was that the zombies, that noise? Maybe it was the people she had ran past. Or maybe she was just imagining things.

[Fell Euphoria]

-Connor-

A woman barreled passed. She was wearing some type of jacket and jeans, but she wasn't a zombie. "Holy mother of-" Connor said in a whisper to himself before quickly turning to his sister who had lowered her bow. "Abby did you see that?" He asked in astonishment. This was the first human they had seen in... a long time. The days had sort of blended together for Connor, and he was no longer really keeping track, but the last human contact they had had was with Daniel the night before everything had happened.
"She was alive." Abby whispered to her brother. "I almost shot her. I thought she was one of them." She shuddered lightly.
A thought occurred to Connor suddenly. Why had she been running? He turned and looked, and sure enough there were two zombies, coming in close. "Think you can do it sis?" He asked her quietly.

-Abigail-
In response she lifted her bow into shooting position, took a knee to center herself. She took a deep even breath as she drew the arrow back to her lips, sighted, and released.
She was off by a hair, missing the zombie entirely, but it was a new bow. She drew again taking a deep breath. She sighted and released. This time the arrow flew true, straight through the zombie's eye. She drew another arrow breathed sighted, but it was too late. The zombie was to close.
But then as always her brother stepped in to save her life. He sheathed his saber and stepped out in a fluid motion, he took out a second ice pick. Due to years of training, perfectly honing his muscles and reflexes to fight in matches lasting only split seconds, to be the fastest fencer on the floor, the movements came easily. He waited, timed his movement carefully, and then drove the pick through the zombies temple. Abigail noticed the tip of the pick came out the other side of the zombies head and her brother grimaced slightly.
She watched as he tugged the pick out and pulled out one of the grime covered towels from the hotel. He wiped the pick off and then stuffed it in his jacket.
"Shall we go in and talk to her, or move on?" Abigail asked her brother, stowing the bow. She hoped they went in so she could just pick up some more arrows. The one in the zombie head would be gross.
"Lets go in" Connor answered, and with that he turned, opened the door, and gestured for his sister to head inside.

[Stephanie96]

The feeling of water on her lips made Belle moan.
She opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the bottle opening, gulping down the water. It was only then that she realized that someone was actually feeding her the water.
She gingerly opened one of her eyes, cautious of the sun, but realized quickly that there was no need for her to be. It was then that the zombies at the shed, the zombie who found her in the alley, the Pawn shop, the dog and the guy....god, the guy, all came rushing back to her. At, it seemed, exactly the same time, her eyes focused on him.
He had a strong jawline, tanned and clear skin, a little bit of stubble (it was impossible to know whether this was intentional or not), pretty eyes. His brow was creased in that moment, his hand behind her head, tilting a bottle towards her mouth.
Most of all though, the thing that got Belle the most...he was alive.
She sat up and threw her arms around his neck. "You're alive, you're alive! You're not dead...or...you know, zombified! You're the first alive person I've seen in days!"
Belle was so overcome with emotions that she felt her eyes well up. Having not seen another human being in a fair few days, the feelings of loneliness and claustrophobia had been beginning to get to her. The fear of going mad, being the only human left in the world, and also the arrogance that she could actually believe that, yet the fact that she was unable to, along with her dehydration, had led to her not being too well for the past few days.
She quickly drew back, unsure of how the man would react to her hugging him, and gave a shy smile, holding out her hand.
"Belle."