#38 - More Zombies!

“You folks know how to use a gun at all?” the man's horse voice barked in my direction.

I nodded my head nervously. Zack seemed cool about the whole ordeal; he looked at him with confidence. Nikky merely stood there, a look of utter terror streaked across her face.

The wall wasn't going to hold long. We had been trying to get some much needed rest when the goddamn military came crashing through the abandoned house we were holed up in. Caused a huge racket, I wouldn't be surprised if there were Ragers from the next town over currently slamming their rotting fists upon the hastily constructed barricade.

A great shudder came from the wall, causing a pained yelp from Nikky and me to swallow hard. The man continued staring at us, his eyes glazed over from years of training and following orders. He was likely their leader; the others seemed to rally around him whenever he moved.

“Take this,” he growled, handing me something cold and heavy before turning away, “Charles, give one to the other guy. Keep the girl safe!”

I inspected the steel frame of a pump action shotgun now cradled within my hands. It had been awhile since we had the luxury of something that required ammunition.

“I can fight, asshole!” Nikky spoke up, her body now rigid and tense, “Give me a gun!”

There was a moment of silence, save for the howl of the undeath pounding upon the rapidly splintering barricade. A loud crack came from the sagging wood, causing each of us to look toward the threat.

“Give her something!” Zack shouted while steadying the barrel of his own weapon, “We need all hands on deck here!”

I never would know if Nikky was given the luxury of defending herself, for the wall came down with a thundering boom. Wordlessly, we began opening fire upon the mass of Ragers. I fired again and again into the shambling horde, each moment giving them opportunity to advance.

“Fall back!” came the voice of the officer, “Out the back door!”

They were close enough to reach out and touch. I threw my leg into the nearest one; an obese man that was once in his middle age. My foot connected with his protruding gut, causing him to stumble backward. Blood sprayed at my eyes as I fired again while taking steps backward with the others. Suddenly, I felt an impossible tug on my left arm. A shorter one, a little girl, clutched at my arm while forcing my body downward. I cried out and tripped, my back slapping at the wooden floor and taking the air from my lungs. Almost equally swift, hands hooked about my shoulders and dragged me away from the horrible faces that would have loved taking chunks of me for their own.

“We're even, dude!” Zack's voice shouted over the gunfire and constant moaning from the Ragers, “Now get your ass up and move!”

I needed no additional convincing. I leapt to my feet, the nearest attackers attempting to close the distance with frenzied movements. I fired at the nearest one, the spray of buckshot catching three others and sending them to the floor in bloody heaps.

The military men were the first ones out the door. The three of us always knew to move as a team.

“Clear!” Nikky shouted while looking to Zack for confirmation.

“Clear!” I repeated the phrase, my eyes upon him as well.

“Go!” he responded before stepping through the door and into the late afternoon sunlight.

Nikky was next. She fired two more shots before turning to sprint for the exit. I didn't mind always being last. It meant I didn't have anybody to watch after. I emptied the remaining bullets within the shotgun's chamber before facing the back door and charging through. As I emerged upon the other side, the others were waiting for me.

“Let's keep moving!” the officer said to state the blindly obvious.

I turned for a moment, the world slowing to a crawl as I stared back at my comrades, clad in sweat, blood and grime. We had scraped past another attack. We were still alive, somehow.

#37 - Five More Minutes

The early morning alarm struck Rob's ears with the serenity of a woman's life-ending scream. He let it go for a few moments, the blaring buzz churning within his semi-conscious head and altering the last part of the current dream he was embarking upon.

He had been atop a giant bird, soaring above the clouds. Now, the large animal was squawking at him angrily in the perfect tempo of his wake-up call.

Just five more minutes, I got time.

His hand flung itself from his body to depress the large snooze button perched upon the hated device. He dare not open his eyes; he already knew nothing but a burning pain was waiting for him. Again, he had stayed out too late.

The alarm came again, seemingly just seconds after the first. Again, Rob was dreaming something different when the shriek came in and rudely interrupted his adventure. He snorted, kicking at the sheets in a futile attempt to awake his exhausted body. No energy came to him from the gesture.

Five more, then I swear I'll get up. It's just work, I can rush.

He tapped at the snooze feature with a bit more elegance this time. Utmost pleasure filled his entire body as he settled back into the blankets. Why did sleep always feel so damn good right before alarms go off?

He was sailing upon a ship, it's large sails decorated with a sinister skull. He felt the weight of a trusty sword at his side, the sea wind whipping in his face and stinging at his eyes. Before him was an island; their destination for buried treasure! Just then, a bolt of lightning struck the hull of the vessel. Again and again, a boom of noise as hole after hole was punctured into the wood. He would have to go down with his ship, he thought.

Five more minutes. I can just throw on that old shirt I wore yesterday. They won't be able to tell the difference anyway.

The snooze button was pressed yet again. The alarm sounded once more.

I don't need to take a shower. I'm still clean from yesterday.

The alarm was delayed again. He felt himself upon the island this time, fighting toe to toe with the ugliest of the enemy pirate crew. His sword was locked within the man's, his eyes showing a fierce resolve. More bolts of lightening fired all around him, interrupting his glorious battle.

I'm not even all that hungry this morning. Just five more minutes, and I'll be good to just get up and go.

The snooze button clicked downward. Rob resumed the dream for only a moment before the alarm went off for the thousandth time.

I can be a little late, right? I never miss any of my shifts. They will understand.

Snooze, alarm. Snooze, alarm. It almost seemed like a game at this point. Each time the alarm rang, he merely snapped it off for a few more minutes.

They're too overstaffed in the morning.

I'll call and let them know that I had a flat tire and couldn't make it in time.

My car also had to have some work done on it as well. 
 

He had finished his battle with the enemy pirates. He was currently wading in mountains of gold and jewels, a big smirk upon his lips. He scooped up a handful of coins and allowed them to slip between his fingers, clattering to the precious metals below him.

A lightning bolt struck his booty, causing it to melt instantly. Rob's eyes shot open to look at the clock for the first time, realizing that it was the early afternoon. The blare of the clock was a sound all too familiar to him now, it seeming to ring louder in protest to it's many silences. He rubbed his eyes a moment to look at the digital face again. With a defeated smile, he merely rolled over, shutting off the alarm entirely.

Maybe just five more minutes...

#36 - Anger

Deep within the vestiges of every living person, a small room is present. Thick, jagged, cave-like walls decorate this small space. Not a single door nor window allows for escape. The room is boiling hot, causing the area to be sweltering.

A single man lies within. His body is muscular and strong; carved and gruesome from many scars and burns. He rests in an uncomfortable sleep, his greasy brow coated in a thick sweat from his surroundings. A twisted pile of uneven hair clings to his skull. Any remnants of fine clothing still hang from his large frame, now a torn and dirty mass of material barely hiding his nakedness.

Something awakens the broken man. Blood-red eyes shift about the room, his chest beginning to rise and fall quickly. He tries to move freely, but cannot. A tormented growl leaves his cracked, bloody lips at the sight of large shackles accenting his wrists like grotesque jewelry. He cries out again from the burning sensation emanating from the white-hot links of iron binding him. The unforgiving walls echo another burning shriek, this time at the injustice of his captivity.

He stands upon a set of flat, grime-encrusted feet. His entire body aches from lack of proper rest. Frantic fingers scratch at the still-burning metal attached to his body. Rage begins to boil inside him as his efforts for freedom result in merely burning himself further. With a frenzied shout, he makes a move for one of the walls. Similar, burning chain holds his ankles from spreading too quickly. He first looks down, then lets out his millionth cry of fury. He hobbles to the only item within the tiny room; a single, dented anvil. The sickening sound of metal upon metal reaches his ears as he begins to pound his bound wrists into the object. He needed freedom from his pain. He thirsted for it in the way an artery thirsts for fresh blood.

His flesh burns with each strike, but he continues driving the shackles into the anvil. He stops suddenly, the pain becoming too overwhelming for him to continue. His brow knit together. He grinds his teeth. A feeling beyond anything he could imagine overtakes his senses. He stands to his full height, muscles rippling with each, slight movement. He begins slamming his fists into the steel, letting out an inhuman shout of pure pain and torture. The unmistakable crack of bones shattering emanated from his knuckles. His fingers burned from the fresh heat now sourcing from the anvil. He stumbled to one of the walls and threw himself at it. The rough stone cut at his skin. He felt even more heat sear into his body at the contact, causing a pure frustration to layer atop the other horrid emotions he currently experienced. He repeated the motion again and again, the jagged walls cutting into his skin, the intense heat searing what remained.

The man suddenly realizes that he will never be heard. There will be no one to help or rescue him. He halts his movements and pulls upon one of the chains binding him with a broken hand, the flesh charring beneath. He cares little. With the free hand, he tears at the remainder of his clothing. The pain is enjoyable, somehow. He presses the chain to his chest, the resulting feeling causing him to cry out in a mixture of utter pain and the sweetest enjoyment. He begins to parade about the tiny, cramped room, spreading his blood upon the walls by scraping against them. Painting them. Red seemed to suit his new home.

He finally lies back down upon the rocky, uncomfortable earth. The chain had thoroughly blackened his chest. He feels no pain from the thing now. He lets out a sigh of contentment, somehow comforted by his surroundings. It felt so good to be alone.

His head collides softly with the ground, kicking up a cloud of fresh dust that stings at his eyes and nostrils. The smallest of laughs leaves his rippled, burned chest. Sleepiness begins to overtake him, silently commanding his eyelids shut. He obeys, shutting out the grizzly scene before him. He never felt more at home.

#35 - A Read in the Park

Jack approached a sun-warmed bench and took a seat. His hand instinctively went to his brow to shield the late afternoon light that hung just above the horizon. It was one of those holiday weekends, he thought. One where everyone would be at the park. A perfect day for him. The faintest glimmer of a smile sliced across his lips as his eyes fell upon a couple seated in the lush grass a few feet before him. A large picnic blanket was spread beneath them, the two of them smiling and giggling toward one another. The man's hands were busily caressing the woman's forearm, a look of pure loving held within his gaze.

Jack closed his eyes, the man's beaming face held within his mind.

I hate this...I hate this...God, why haven't I just told her yet?

His eyes reopened and settled upon the happy couple. He looked to be in the midst of a fascinating story. Her smile practically made Jack's own cheeks ache.

I can't believe I cheated on her...after all that she has been for me!

He turned his attention away from them, toward another, more solemn woman seated upon a bench across the way. Her eyes were turned downward, a steady river of amber hair flowing in front of her face from a steady wind that rustled through the park. Again, Jack slid his eyes shut and thought about the woman.

I just wish that I had someone to talk to...why doesn't anyone care in this world?

Jack chewed at his cheek in discomfort. He watched her with open eyes now. She was picking at a non-existent spot upon her jeans.

Friends are sure hard to come by, I guess...

She had shifted her weight a bit in the seat. Jack again turned his attention from her, breathing in deeply as a particularly breezy gust caught at his nostrils. The smell of a distant grill hung upon the air, causing his stomach to turn in sweet agony.

Suddenly, a large, red ball struck his shin. His gaze turn downward curiously to see a small child approaching him with caution. He palmed the ball while watching the youth with a warm smile. Two wide eyes stared back at him, a deep fear clearly etched in the boy's expression. For a brief moment, Jack closed his eyes a second time.

He looks like daddy...

Jack stood and took a step toward the boy. He stumbled backward in response.

Daddy says he loves me, but why does he always hit me? This man is going to hit me like daddy!

“Hey, it's all right.”

Jack held the ball out for the child. With shaking, tentative hands, he took the object from him and ran in the opposite direction.

Someday, Jack thought. He could do something great someday. He knew that he had a talent that could change the entire world. He could be the very best interpreter, the most accurate ambassador, the absolute greatest inspector in any precinct. He could solve the most secret of mysteries without a single ounce of concentration. He knew he was destined for these things; he just wasn't ready yet. He wouldn't even know where to start. Where could he start changing the entire world?

His eyes fell to the bench across the way. The woman was still seated there, her hands now occupied with thick strands of her hair as she attempted to pull it from her face in the rapidly increasing wind. With a small chuckle to himself, he took a step forward and toward the woman. He wouldn't have to bear the burden of the world today, he thought. Today, someone needed another person to talk to; a companion to share their own burden with. Someone needed a friend, and that was a start. Besides, he was still hungry.

“Hello there,” he announced as he was now a mere foot from her.

As he watched her glassy blue eyes turn upward to him with a faint smile, he somehow knew that he truly was changing the world, if only for a single lonely person.

No story for this week :(

Will get one posted next week.  Work has been crazy this week.