Post by --Kyle-- on Oct 22, 2010 10:42:19 GMT -6
My short story for my composition class.
The entire city went down in the first two days, leaving only a handful of survivors. Trace could barely remember how all of it had started; something on the news about a mass infection. Anyone who was infected turned into a flesh eating – well, for lack of a better word, zombie. After finding Devon – surrounded by a horde of Infected in the park’s jungle gym – they hadn’t seen anymore survivors.
That had been four months ago.
Trace walked down the street first, gun aimed in front of him. Gun always aimed ahead. The Infected were easy to kill, a simple shot to the head, but in a pack, you might as well give up. Trace knew that traveling was fatal, but they needed supplies.
“How is it up there?” Ellis asked quietly from behind him. He looked at her, wide blue eyes with long brown hair pulled away from her face. Ellis had always been in Trace’s life; his neighbor since Pre-K, and girlfriend since eighth grade.
“Clear. We need to move fast. We have never searched this part of town before,” Trace told the others in a whisper. “There could be a lot of them.” They all nodded, and one by one headed down the street.
It had started out with the two of them; just Trace and Ellis. They had found Ellis’ friend Tara held up at Wal*Mart with Milo, they had a lot of food and guns; naturally they joined them to survive.
As they went into each apartment, they moved like a SWAT team. Checking to make sure each room was safe. They would search the rooms, pack the supplies they found useful, mark the door with a large red ‘X’ (so they new which ones they had already raided), and move on to the next one. They repeated this over and over.
“This is the last on this floor,” Trace moved in first, keeping his gun aimed ahead of him, moving swiftly side-to-side. Ellis came in next, followed by Milo. Devon and Tara stayed outside to watch their backs. “Clear,” Trace said after checking the bathroom and bedroom.
“Clear,” Ellis said from the back.
“All clear here too,” Milo came from the kitchen. “Lot’s of canned food in the – “
Gunfire rang down the hall.
“Tara!” Trace ran to the door. “Tara!”
Devon ran into the room, wide-eyed and very pale. “They – they, Tara!” he wailed.
Trace looked out into the hall; Tara lay on the floor, an Infected tearing through her flesh. As he looked down the hall, even more were running toward them. Without another thought, Trace slammed the door closed, leaving Tara; it was too late for her. As soon as he had, pounding could be heard from the other side. There were too many of them. They were trapped.
“The window,” Trace said. “Hurry, down the fire escape.”
Ellis opened the window and climbed out. “Here, give me Devon,” Ellis said reaching for him. Milo helped Devon out, and then went out himself. Trace was last, and as he climbed out, the door slammed open. Trace quickly closed the window, and made his way down the stairs.
From above, the sound of glass shattering rang out, and small shards fell like rain. “Hurry! Go!” Trace yelled. Ellis and Devon made it safely down the ladder.
More of the Infected toppled out of the window, adding to the weight, which was too much and the fire escape’s rusty braces snapped, causing the entire thing to collapse.
“No!” Ellis screamed.
Trace jumped, landing on the ground with a thud; Milo had landed underneath the ladder, the bar going straight through him.
Trace grabbed Ellis’ hand, and the three of them ran. “We need to see if Milo’s still alive. We have to go back!” Ellis screamed as she ran.
“No, he would understand.” They couldn’t risk their lives like that. They ran as fast as they could away from the building, not looking back.
The farther away they got from the street, the slower they went. They had lost the group of Infected that was after them, but there would be more. Ellis held Devon’s small hand as they walked down the street. Trace led the way, his gun aimed ahead of him.
Gun Aimed Ahead
The entire city went down in the first two days, leaving only a handful of survivors. Trace could barely remember how all of it had started; something on the news about a mass infection. Anyone who was infected turned into a flesh eating – well, for lack of a better word, zombie. After finding Devon – surrounded by a horde of Infected in the park’s jungle gym – they hadn’t seen anymore survivors.
That had been four months ago.
Trace walked down the street first, gun aimed in front of him. Gun always aimed ahead. The Infected were easy to kill, a simple shot to the head, but in a pack, you might as well give up. Trace knew that traveling was fatal, but they needed supplies.
“How is it up there?” Ellis asked quietly from behind him. He looked at her, wide blue eyes with long brown hair pulled away from her face. Ellis had always been in Trace’s life; his neighbor since Pre-K, and girlfriend since eighth grade.
“Clear. We need to move fast. We have never searched this part of town before,” Trace told the others in a whisper. “There could be a lot of them.” They all nodded, and one by one headed down the street.
It had started out with the two of them; just Trace and Ellis. They had found Ellis’ friend Tara held up at Wal*Mart with Milo, they had a lot of food and guns; naturally they joined them to survive.
As they went into each apartment, they moved like a SWAT team. Checking to make sure each room was safe. They would search the rooms, pack the supplies they found useful, mark the door with a large red ‘X’ (so they new which ones they had already raided), and move on to the next one. They repeated this over and over.
“This is the last on this floor,” Trace moved in first, keeping his gun aimed ahead of him, moving swiftly side-to-side. Ellis came in next, followed by Milo. Devon and Tara stayed outside to watch their backs. “Clear,” Trace said after checking the bathroom and bedroom.
“Clear,” Ellis said from the back.
“All clear here too,” Milo came from the kitchen. “Lot’s of canned food in the – “
Gunfire rang down the hall.
“Tara!” Trace ran to the door. “Tara!”
Devon ran into the room, wide-eyed and very pale. “They – they, Tara!” he wailed.
Trace looked out into the hall; Tara lay on the floor, an Infected tearing through her flesh. As he looked down the hall, even more were running toward them. Without another thought, Trace slammed the door closed, leaving Tara; it was too late for her. As soon as he had, pounding could be heard from the other side. There were too many of them. They were trapped.
“The window,” Trace said. “Hurry, down the fire escape.”
Ellis opened the window and climbed out. “Here, give me Devon,” Ellis said reaching for him. Milo helped Devon out, and then went out himself. Trace was last, and as he climbed out, the door slammed open. Trace quickly closed the window, and made his way down the stairs.
From above, the sound of glass shattering rang out, and small shards fell like rain. “Hurry! Go!” Trace yelled. Ellis and Devon made it safely down the ladder.
More of the Infected toppled out of the window, adding to the weight, which was too much and the fire escape’s rusty braces snapped, causing the entire thing to collapse.
“No!” Ellis screamed.
Trace jumped, landing on the ground with a thud; Milo had landed underneath the ladder, the bar going straight through him.
Trace grabbed Ellis’ hand, and the three of them ran. “We need to see if Milo’s still alive. We have to go back!” Ellis screamed as she ran.
“No, he would understand.” They couldn’t risk their lives like that. They ran as fast as they could away from the building, not looking back.
The farther away they got from the street, the slower they went. They had lost the group of Infected that was after them, but there would be more. Ellis held Devon’s small hand as they walked down the street. Trace led the way, his gun aimed ahead of him.
