Hmm? You're probably talking about how you can access it but it's slow, but if you aren't...
In the zombie apocalypse, you expect things to change a little more than they have for me. I'm still alone, I'm still just scraping by, I'm still avoiding conflict wherever I see it, and most of all, I'm still terribly unlucky. I don't think I can fully express how unlucky I am without telling you a little story about what happened this morning.
So there I was. I just got out of the abandoned house I camped in for the night. I find it fun to look through these buildings now and then, just to get an idea of what life was like those three years ago. I can barely remember myself. But you can judge a lot about what the owner's lives were like from their homes and possessions. They had some jewish bibles and a menorah, so they were jewish, though a christian bible was hidden under the bed of the oldest son. There was a husband and wife, and three kids, at most two alive because one was hungry for my blood. They had a lot of empty shelves without a lot of dust on them, which had to have meant they had lived here recently, slowly taking food out of a stockpile. Big stockpiles of food might mean that they were the survivalist sort, the kind that preps for the breakdown of society. It seemed silly then, but of course foresight always looks silly until the dead rise. Nothing can look silly after that.
I got out of the house and listened, looking about. I wanted to loot the house across the street, maybe see if there was food in there. You can only last so long on grocery store jerky. But as I was walking across the road, I stopped when I heard a familiar noise, one that I hadn't heard in so long. So long, in fact, that it took me a minute to realize what it was, and the horrible mistake I had made.
It was a car. And just over the blind hill to my right, it came over.
I was hit by the last car in the zombie apocalypse.
Which leaves me where I am now. I woke up in the vehicle, several bandages wrapped around my chest and head. My vision was fuzzy and vague, and I could barely make out some voices.
"Would you cut me some slack already?" The first voice snapped. It came from the front seats, and although it was a girl's voice it was still one of the roughest one's I've heard. "Society as we know it has ended, order is dead, and you expect me to perfectly follow traffic laws?"
The second voice was heard, an exasperated male. "Yes! Yes I do because they aren't there for no reason, they're there for safety. Next time it might not be a guy, it could be a truck, or a hoard of walkers, or-"
"Yes, yes," the first voice interrupted, "You say the same thing every time Bolt. 'Be careful Standoff. Don't get carried away Standoff. You're just slowing us down Standoff.'" Her voice became grating, like a weakness that had long been guarded had just been unveiled.
"Uh... guys?" An unexpected third voice said from the seat right next to me. Her voice was softer and less defensive, and sounded worried. I turned my head towards it, and my eyes opened enough to see a young woman with black hair look at me with anxious green eyes. She looked very young, young enough that she might not have even been an adult when this mess started.
The first voice, who was apparently called Standoff, kept going. "Well you know what? I've had it Bolt. I've fucking had it. I'm done with you telling me what you do, I'm done with you're bitching, I'm done with you thinking that you're in charge because you 'own the van.' How much do you think that matters when-"
"It matters a lot!" Bolt broke in, his temper reaching its peak. "You think that you could keep this car repaired? You know jack about mechanics Standoff, so don't pretend that I'm not keeping this charade together."
"Look guys this is really important-" It wasn't long before the unnamed third voice was ended by Standoff's attitude.
"Oh you keep this group together now huh? So are you the one who fights off zeds with nothing but a glorified stick? Are you the one who butchers our catches?"
I realized it would be a while before anyone other than the girl sitting next to me realized I was awake. I tried pulling myself upright into a more comfortable position, but immediately collapsed and let out a groan of pain. That car did me more damage than I thought.
And then I noticed the silence. Seems like they heard me.
"Uh..." Words escaped me in this situation. What was there even to say? I felt a sudden stop as the car was pulled over, and both Standoff and Bolt turned around and looked straight at me. I could feel the unnamed third girl's eyes drilling into my skull as well.
Standoff looked much like the unnamed girl. They had the same black hair, but Standoff's was less curly and pulled back in a ponytail. She seemed older than the others, and had a tired look to her, the kind you have when you've been under a lot of stress for a long time.
Bolt was a spindly man, didn't look too tough. He had a bunch of stubble on his face and looked ragged as well, but not quite as much as Standoff. His hair was a frazzled mess, looking like he either didn't have the supplies to care for it or didn't care enough to.
"So..." I started awkwardly. "It turns out that even in the apocalypse, you still need to look both ways."
They both shared a look.
And then I heard laughter.
It mostly came from Bolt and the unnamed girl, but I noticed even Standoff was repressing a giggle behind her face palm.
It turns out that some things do change, because in that moment, I knew I wasn't alone anymore.
Thanks! Although this is probably obvious, this is a story I wrote based off character designs and concepts I've brewed in my head for a while. So it's likely that I will write more of this solely for the reason that I
more of this to write.
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Topic: I wrote a short story about zombies this morning (Read 1526 times)