Blaze of Glory (Zombie Apocalypse) Drabble
Title: Untitled Zombie Drabble
Rating: PG13?
Characters: Original Characters
Summary: Two companions watch as their bitten comrade save them from a swarm of bloodthirsty Infected Ones.
The walkie talkie crackled violently.
"...bastard.... bit... m-me... of a bitch!"
I could feel the bile bubbling in the pit of my stomach.
The reinforced truck rocked over the gravel, and Ethan scrambled to keep it on the road. It felt as though the truck were about to flip as he hit a turn too fast, and he cursed loudly before bringing the walkie talkie up to his lips.
"What was that, Brian?" He sounded like he was checking to make sure he had heard Brian right, as though he hadn't believed what Brian had said.
".... son of a.... fuckin' bit.... arm!"
"He was bit..." I added quietly. The truck came into a clearing where the Manchester Bridge crossed The Crevice. Ethan stole a quick glance back at Brian's truck, which was lurching dangerously from one side of the road to the other. I watched Ethan's face masked behind an expression I wasn't familiar with on his features: fear.
Ethan pulled the truck to a stop before the bridge and watched as Brian's truck came to a stop behind us. I could barely make out Brian's face in the windshield. He looked like he was in pain. I watched him slowly pull his walkie talkie to his face.
"Go..." Our walkie talkie crackled. It was odd seeing his mouth move before hearing the words on our cheap piece of machinery.
Ethan snapped his walkie talkie to his lips, "What? No! Are you fucking crazy?"
"Just.... out me.... are coming."
"Brian!" Ethan sounded on the verge of panic. He jumped as though to open the door and dash out of the truck, but I grabbed his arm.
"No, Ethan, don't..."
Ethan pulled out of my grasp. I watched Brian lift his walkie talkie to his mouth again.
"Go.... got you guys.... they're fuckin' coming..."
There was a scream from outside our truck, and I could see the first of the mangled bodies dashing from behind the trees. Ethan cursed and hit the gas. The tires squealed, and the truck lurched onto the bridge through the barricade. I whirled around in my seat.
"Brian..."
"Damn Canadians... better... safe..." The walkie talkie crackled.
I can't be sure now, but I could have sworn I saw the flicker of a lighter. As though Brian had lit something up in the cab. I could hear his tires squeal as he pressed down on the gas and followed us onto the bridge.
Our truck lurched onto the dirt road on the other side of The Crevice. Ethan squealed to a halt, and wheeled the truck around just in time for us to catch a front-row view of the largest explosion I'd ever seen.
"Brian..." I whispered. His name felt strange on my lips.
Rating: PG13?
Characters: Original Characters
Summary: Two companions watch as their bitten comrade save them from a swarm of bloodthirsty Infected Ones.
The walkie talkie crackled violently.
"...bastard.... bit... m-me... of a bitch!"
I could feel the bile bubbling in the pit of my stomach.
The reinforced truck rocked over the gravel, and Ethan scrambled to keep it on the road. It felt as though the truck were about to flip as he hit a turn too fast, and he cursed loudly before bringing the walkie talkie up to his lips.
"What was that, Brian?" He sounded like he was checking to make sure he had heard Brian right, as though he hadn't believed what Brian had said.
".... son of a.... fuckin' bit.... arm!"
"He was bit..." I added quietly. The truck came into a clearing where the Manchester Bridge crossed The Crevice. Ethan stole a quick glance back at Brian's truck, which was lurching dangerously from one side of the road to the other. I watched Ethan's face masked behind an expression I wasn't familiar with on his features: fear.
Ethan pulled the truck to a stop before the bridge and watched as Brian's truck came to a stop behind us. I could barely make out Brian's face in the windshield. He looked like he was in pain. I watched him slowly pull his walkie talkie to his face.
"Go..." Our walkie talkie crackled. It was odd seeing his mouth move before hearing the words on our cheap piece of machinery.
Ethan snapped his walkie talkie to his lips, "What? No! Are you fucking crazy?"
"Just.... out me.... are coming."
"Brian!" Ethan sounded on the verge of panic. He jumped as though to open the door and dash out of the truck, but I grabbed his arm.
"No, Ethan, don't..."
Ethan pulled out of my grasp. I watched Brian lift his walkie talkie to his mouth again.
"Go.... got you guys.... they're fuckin' coming..."
There was a scream from outside our truck, and I could see the first of the mangled bodies dashing from behind the trees. Ethan cursed and hit the gas. The tires squealed, and the truck lurched onto the bridge through the barricade. I whirled around in my seat.
"Brian..."
"Damn Canadians... better... safe..." The walkie talkie crackled.
I can't be sure now, but I could have sworn I saw the flicker of a lighter. As though Brian had lit something up in the cab. I could hear his tires squeal as he pressed down on the gas and followed us onto the bridge.
Our truck lurched onto the dirt road on the other side of The Crevice. Ethan squealed to a halt, and wheeled the truck around just in time for us to catch a front-row view of the largest explosion I'd ever seen.
"Brian..." I whispered. His name felt strange on my lips.