Low Heath

No One Lasts Forever

Hope; an emotion many have come to forget, and in such bleak times, they would be right to. The Haze spread completely out of control, all quarantine attempts rendered futile and entire communities being consumed by the lusty plants and the heavy fog. To combat this takeover, many camps were set up, most to fight off the infected, just long enough for any survivors to escape. Our story takes place in one such camp, this particular base home to a band of soldiers. These zombies, now running low on ammunition and morale, have been holding their posts for days now, hoping their distress call won't go unnoticed. They're fighting so hard each day, but as their men are dragged off, screaming into the Haze, their hope cracked and withered. Some of them gave up, trudging into the fog to be accepted with open arms and mouths by the infected. Others grew selfish, sacrificing others to last a bit longer, all in vain.

"Hey, sleepyhead, get us some ammo, would ya?!" A raspy voice over the radio shook Clark awake, out of he peaceful dreaming. Scratching his head and putting his cone on, Clark stumbled out of his barracks, rubbing his eyes. Oh right, he was on ammo duty today. Shouldn't have traded shifts for that PopSmarts box. As he stumbled into the supply closet, he could hear gunshots, shouting, and thundering footsteps.  Hoisting a box over his shoulder, Clark booked it to the bunker entrance, wasting no time so he could get back to his nap. He kicked open the door, just in time to see his friend, Bob, get pounced on by a Ice Pea. "I'll freeze all of that fear and resistance, and melt it alllll away with a nice blo-." The plant didn't get to finish her sentence, as a convenient heavy stick slammed against her head, taking her out. "You good?" Clark looked at Bob, helping him up. "Wouldn't be without you. Got that ammo?" Bob cracked his knuckles and shifted his bucket back, his friend setting down the ammo box.  "Yep, you owe me some PopSmarts for that." Clark laughed. Suddenly, a bean bomb bounced around the corner, startling the two and launching them back against a wall.

Clark got back up, pushing debris aside and looking for his bro. He found him slumped against a wall, his hand to his chest. "Bob! Are you alright?!" Bob didn't respond, simply pointing at his chest, revealing a piece of shrapnel stuck in his chest. "Oh, that's nothing to you, Bro! We're gonna live forever, me and you!" Clark reached for the metal chunk, his hand being intercepted by Bob's blood covered hand. " E-Eight five two t-three.. that's the b-bunker safe room password." Bob mumbled, confusing his friend. "W-What?" Bob looked at Clark, his half lidded eyes staring deep into the other's. "I'll hold them off as l-long as I can... Run..." Clark shook he head, opening his mouth to retort. Before he could, a creepy hum echoed through the Haze, causing his head to snap over to the source. Bob grabbed his shirt. " GO. NOW." He groaned, leaning up to position his rifle towards the fog. Clark got back up, running to the slightly ajar bunker door . He turned around, just in time to see his best friend fire a few rounds, only to get latched onto, and claimed . Clark slammed the bunker door, racing to the safe room. He quickly put in the code Bob gave him, tears dripping onto the pad. "ACCESS GRANTED." The machine interface buzzed to life, unlocking the complex door mechanism. Clark almost entered, but ran to his barracks, grabbing his gun and some water. He ran into the safe room, shutting the door behind him. "We... we were gonna make it out.." Clark put his hand to his face, sobbing for his friends lost. Bob was a good zombie, and Clark was damn sure he would live in his honor.

Standing back up, Clark walked through the safe room, realizing that there was enough food here to last him for years. That helped his mood slightly, so he continued on. However, something made him stop dead in his tracks, quiet humming echoing from the dining hall. Bracing his gun, Clark tiptoed to the source of the sound, finding an Agent Pea facing a terminal. The plant tapped a few buttons, then sighed, taking the silencer out off her mouth. "I know you there, undead." She faces Clark, her eyelashes fluttering. "Ground. Face. Now." He growls, aiming his rifle at the unamused plant. "Hmm, really? Not in a position to demand anything." She sighed, leaning against a wall. "I'll fucking shoot, I will!" Clark clenched his teeth, the gun shaking from how hard he held it. "Not one for small talk?" The peashooter pondered aloud, inching closer. "You seem like you lost something, or someone important.." she cooed, angering Clark immensely. "Shut up, Plant!" Clark seethed, his hands trembling. "Do you wa-." The plant stepped too close, prompting the zombie to fire on her. She dodged his shots, kicking the gun free from his hands. Fearing capture, Clark retreated to the hallway, locking himself into one of the many rooms. "Fuck, why did I miss?!" Clark smacked his head, angry at his poor shot.