the dead isn't the only thing that's rising in here [2/?]
anonymous
March 1 2010, 20:40:46 UTC
Pausing, Matthew lowered his camera to stare at the blond man just shy of thirty. The man was completely absorbed in his writing, his glasses sliding precariously down his nose. His lean muscles were gigantic compared to Matthew’s scrawny frame. His outfit was a casual jeans-and-t-shirt combo, yet surprisingly free of any mustard or ketchup stains. He still wore that ridiculous bomber jacket, but he seemed to have finally filled it out.
The photojournalist stepped forward, unsure whether to be happy or horrified to find someone familiar here.
“Al …” Matthew shut his mouth. Did his voice just crack? Impossible. That was monumentally stupid, even for him. He tried again, attempting to project more confidence this time. “Alfred F. Jones, is that you?”
The man looked up. The wide grin that spread across his face oozed positive energy, enough that Matthew could feel himself relax, feel like everything was going to be alright.
“Mattie!” he shouted.
His hug was still the same.
[¬º-°]¬
Alfred was here for research, apparently. He was taking a road trip across the United States, the same way his latest characters would as they chased down a lost alien genius. But, he had been stranded here yesterday with everyone else when the zombies began to appear. He warned against going into the mall alone, as some of the survivors had been driven insane by the invasion.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to be watching your back and we’ll be fine! I might even make this my new book!”
It had been ten years since high school, but Matthew still knew his best friend and Alfred didn’t seem sure of anything at the moment. No matter how optimistic he sounded, they both knew they were in trouble.
“It’s amazing you’ve survived all those crazy assignments,” Alfred said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “My little Mattie’s all grown up!”
Matthew failed to stifle a snort. Why had they ever lost touch? “This is the craziest assignment yet, you know. How about after the helicopter picks us up, we go take a vacation together up in Canada? I have a cabin on the west coast there.”
His friend looked startled for a second, before he smiled. It wasn’t his usual 1000-watt grin. This smile made Alfred’s entire being calmer, his eyes gentler. Seeing a smile like that was something that made this whole disaster worthwhile.
“You sure about that? I distinctly remember driving you up the walls,” Alfred teased.
“Yes,” Matthew answered around the sudden lump in his throat. “I’m sure.”
He blamed his rapid heartbeat on the zombies breaking in a mere second later.
[¬º-°]¬
Between Matthew’s briefcase and the two-by-four Alfred picked up near a pile of discarded furniture, they managed to make it through the horde of zombies and to the staircases in front of the mall. The pair tried to save a few people, like the arguing couple and the man with bat, but they were caught and eaten before they could make it to salvation.
Even after hearing their tortured screams, Matthew knew Alfred wanted to save them anyway. Alfred was always the hero, the one who saved the day, who protected the weak against the abusive strong. That mentality was probably why his books sold so well. It was also the reason that they had met.
Catching Alfred’s eye, Matthew shook his head. They couldn’t go back. They couldn’t help them, not if they wanted to survive. Matthew could see something die inside Alfred because of it.
Matthew swung his briefcase viciously at a zombie’s head. No, there was nothing they could do for those people.
They both made it to the room Matthew had entered the mall from. After telling the man with the Cuban accent, the same man who had yelled at everyone to get to safety, that no one else was coming, he chewed his lit cigar slowly and ordered the janitor to seal the door behind them. Now the only way out was through the roof exit or the air ducts, which were currently being explored by the Cuban man.
The photojournalist stepped forward, unsure whether to be happy or horrified to find someone familiar here.
“Al …” Matthew shut his mouth. Did his voice just crack? Impossible. That was monumentally stupid, even for him. He tried again, attempting to project more confidence this time. “Alfred F. Jones, is that you?”
The man looked up. The wide grin that spread across his face oozed positive energy, enough that Matthew could feel himself relax, feel like everything was going to be alright.
“Mattie!” he shouted.
His hug was still the same.
[¬º-°]¬
Alfred was here for research, apparently. He was taking a road trip across the United States, the same way his latest characters would as they chased down a lost alien genius. But, he had been stranded here yesterday with everyone else when the zombies began to appear. He warned against going into the mall alone, as some of the survivors had been driven insane by the invasion.
“Don’t worry, I’m going to be watching your back and we’ll be fine! I might even make this my new book!”
It had been ten years since high school, but Matthew still knew his best friend and Alfred didn’t seem sure of anything at the moment. No matter how optimistic he sounded, they both knew they were in trouble.
“It’s amazing you’ve survived all those crazy assignments,” Alfred said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “My little Mattie’s all grown up!”
Matthew failed to stifle a snort. Why had they ever lost touch? “This is the craziest assignment yet, you know. How about after the helicopter picks us up, we go take a vacation together up in Canada? I have a cabin on the west coast there.”
His friend looked startled for a second, before he smiled. It wasn’t his usual 1000-watt grin. This smile made Alfred’s entire being calmer, his eyes gentler. Seeing a smile like that was something that made this whole disaster worthwhile.
“You sure about that? I distinctly remember driving you up the walls,” Alfred teased.
“Yes,” Matthew answered around the sudden lump in his throat. “I’m sure.”
He blamed his rapid heartbeat on the zombies breaking in a mere second later.
[¬º-°]¬
Between Matthew’s briefcase and the two-by-four Alfred picked up near a pile of discarded furniture, they managed to make it through the horde of zombies and to the staircases in front of the mall. The pair tried to save a few people, like the arguing couple and the man with bat, but they were caught and eaten before they could make it to salvation.
Even after hearing their tortured screams, Matthew knew Alfred wanted to save them anyway. Alfred was always the hero, the one who saved the day, who protected the weak against the abusive strong. That mentality was probably why his books sold so well. It was also the reason that they had met.
Catching Alfred’s eye, Matthew shook his head. They couldn’t go back. They couldn’t help them, not if they wanted to survive. Matthew could see something die inside Alfred because of it.
Matthew swung his briefcase viciously at a zombie’s head. No, there was nothing they could do for those people.
They both made it to the room Matthew had entered the mall from. After telling the man with the Cuban accent, the same man who had yelled at everyone to get to safety, that no one else was coming, he chewed his lit cigar slowly and ordered the janitor to seal the door behind them. Now the only way out was through the roof exit or the air ducts, which were currently being explored by the Cuban man.
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