Prologue
The other day my friend told me that I should make "zombie hunter" my style. So I designed a little smashed skull logo that I could stencil onto things and be really cool. But then I got distracted and wrote a little something to go along with this new persona.
I have vague ideas for more, as if it were a hip episodic super heroey adventure + zombies sort of story.
Title: Xomby Ninja [working title] - Prologue
Author: Aya
Rating: M
Putting the single spare shell in the first aid kit she wore on her belt had been a largely sarcastic move. A wink and a nod that said, "buddy, if this is your last resort, then you are well and truly fucked."
One last, single, solitary shell. The one that promised immediate oblivion as a happy counter offer to an eternity of living -- or whatever it was -- hell. If not living, then at least shambling undead. But either way, you had to die first, and Brenna had put the shell in there just to shake her fist at the uncaring heavens and shout her mastery over her fate.
And now it was come time to use it. A pair of zombies moaned beyond the weakly-barricaded door, their rotting fingers scratching and scraping at the obstacle as if they had all the time in the world. And while they slobbered tirelessly on the other side, Brenna felt every slight frailty of her humanity. She was beaten, battered, bloody, tired, and hungry. She was angry and terrified and depressed, because she knew that she was well and truly fucked.
The first aid kit, opened with much haste to tend to her sluggishly seeping injuries, was now held frozen, clutched in paralyzed hands.
They were not her hands.
The girl who knelt in the dusty gloom of the warehouse office beside her looked from the single spare shell up to Brenna's face, disbelief settling into a certain knowing as she read the truth in her savior's eyes.
"I'm sorry," Brenna uttered, her voice no more than a rustle of wind in a forgotten city. "I could only get you this far."
The zombies moaned louder, sharks smelling blood in the water.
The girl, Amy, shuddered at the sound and slid closer over the grimy floor, pressing tight to Brenna's side. She reached into the bag and retrieved the shell, holding it with the gentle manner of one unaccustomed to handling ammunition. She lifted Brenna's left hand, bloodied and torn from the struggle to survive, and pressed the shell into it. She bent her head over their clasped hands.
"You got me this far," she echoed. "Maybe...maybe that's far enough."
Brenna's fist closed tight around the shell and Amy's hand both, ignoring the ache as she held on. Her head fell back against the cold warehouse wall as she weighed her options despairingly.
Two zombies. Two humans. One shell.
One of the boards barring the service entrance door rattled and slid loose, falling to the floor with a deafening clatter. Amy took in a sharp, fearful breath and went stiff, her nails digging into Brenna's hand. Outside, the zombies fell silent for a moment, and, for just that moment, Brenna pretended that it was just the two of them in the entire world.
But for all she knew, maybe they were.
Amy startled when she felt Brenna shift, sitting up and cracking open the chamber of the well trusted shotgun she still had in her other hand. Brenna didn't look at her companion as she slid their last shell into place, knowing exactly what she would find on her face.
The door gave a threatening rattle, the bolt practically giving way. Cracks of sunlight stuttered in through the gap as the zombies pressed the attack. More and more of the barricade was falling away, meaning that old rusted bolt was become their last protector.
"What are you going to do?" Amy asked. Her voice wavered but Brenna could tell the smaller girl was using the last of her drained courage to appear strong for as long as possible, ready to face come what may. She was stronger than Brenna, that was for sure.
The door gave a particularly strained squeal, and Brenna broke. She looked into those fearful eyes, giving in and letting every pretense fall away. "Goddammit all," she spat, and then she bent her head and kissed Amy like she had always wanted to do since the day they met.
Amy didn't react, not that Brenna had really expected her to, not with everything else that was going on, but all too soon the door was shattering open, light crashing in around them, and Brenna had made up her mind.
"Don't hate me for this, okay?" she said wildly, desperately, her voice matching the kiss they had just shared. She gripped the shotgun and tossed it upwards fiercely, cocking it with her good hand.
The zombies came at them then, all yellowed teeth and stinking remains of flesh.
That single spare shell had the loudest report of any she had ever heard.
I have vague ideas for more, as if it were a hip episodic super heroey adventure + zombies sort of story.
Title: Xomby Ninja [working title] - Prologue
Author: Aya
Rating: M
Putting the single spare shell in the first aid kit she wore on her belt had been a largely sarcastic move. A wink and a nod that said, "buddy, if this is your last resort, then you are well and truly fucked."
One last, single, solitary shell. The one that promised immediate oblivion as a happy counter offer to an eternity of living -- or whatever it was -- hell. If not living, then at least shambling undead. But either way, you had to die first, and Brenna had put the shell in there just to shake her fist at the uncaring heavens and shout her mastery over her fate.
And now it was come time to use it. A pair of zombies moaned beyond the weakly-barricaded door, their rotting fingers scratching and scraping at the obstacle as if they had all the time in the world. And while they slobbered tirelessly on the other side, Brenna felt every slight frailty of her humanity. She was beaten, battered, bloody, tired, and hungry. She was angry and terrified and depressed, because she knew that she was well and truly fucked.
The first aid kit, opened with much haste to tend to her sluggishly seeping injuries, was now held frozen, clutched in paralyzed hands.
They were not her hands.
The girl who knelt in the dusty gloom of the warehouse office beside her looked from the single spare shell up to Brenna's face, disbelief settling into a certain knowing as she read the truth in her savior's eyes.
"I'm sorry," Brenna uttered, her voice no more than a rustle of wind in a forgotten city. "I could only get you this far."
The zombies moaned louder, sharks smelling blood in the water.
The girl, Amy, shuddered at the sound and slid closer over the grimy floor, pressing tight to Brenna's side. She reached into the bag and retrieved the shell, holding it with the gentle manner of one unaccustomed to handling ammunition. She lifted Brenna's left hand, bloodied and torn from the struggle to survive, and pressed the shell into it. She bent her head over their clasped hands.
"You got me this far," she echoed. "Maybe...maybe that's far enough."
Brenna's fist closed tight around the shell and Amy's hand both, ignoring the ache as she held on. Her head fell back against the cold warehouse wall as she weighed her options despairingly.
Two zombies. Two humans. One shell.
One of the boards barring the service entrance door rattled and slid loose, falling to the floor with a deafening clatter. Amy took in a sharp, fearful breath and went stiff, her nails digging into Brenna's hand. Outside, the zombies fell silent for a moment, and, for just that moment, Brenna pretended that it was just the two of them in the entire world.
But for all she knew, maybe they were.
Amy startled when she felt Brenna shift, sitting up and cracking open the chamber of the well trusted shotgun she still had in her other hand. Brenna didn't look at her companion as she slid their last shell into place, knowing exactly what she would find on her face.
The door gave a threatening rattle, the bolt practically giving way. Cracks of sunlight stuttered in through the gap as the zombies pressed the attack. More and more of the barricade was falling away, meaning that old rusted bolt was become their last protector.
"What are you going to do?" Amy asked. Her voice wavered but Brenna could tell the smaller girl was using the last of her drained courage to appear strong for as long as possible, ready to face come what may. She was stronger than Brenna, that was for sure.
The door gave a particularly strained squeal, and Brenna broke. She looked into those fearful eyes, giving in and letting every pretense fall away. "Goddammit all," she spat, and then she bent her head and kissed Amy like she had always wanted to do since the day they met.
Amy didn't react, not that Brenna had really expected her to, not with everything else that was going on, but all too soon the door was shattering open, light crashing in around them, and Brenna had made up her mind.
"Don't hate me for this, okay?" she said wildly, desperately, her voice matching the kiss they had just shared. She gripped the shotgun and tossed it upwards fiercely, cocking it with her good hand.
The zombies came at them then, all yellowed teeth and stinking remains of flesh.
That single spare shell had the loudest report of any she had ever heard.