When You Let a Little Less Light In

Chapter Four

Chapter Four-

Walking along the road, I kicked the smooth pebble down the hill. I thought surviving would be better than this.

All we do is walk, walk in pure silence, and kill every now and then a zombie or two. This was not like a video game.

“Boomer!”, shouted Rochelle, shortly before blasting a bullet into its obese, thick, nasty body. Its guts flew everywhere like fireworks. Nick looked upa t the sky.

“Skys’ setting. Guys, we need to find a camp,” he stated, then continue going through the empty city roads. It’s been three days since I’ve last slept. Man, if I had a computer near me right now, I would be writing a book about how to survive. These guys don’t get it.

You have to sleep, and every now and then, eat, drink, or keep watch for others.

Hunter growled a bit, and then got into his pouncing stance.

“What is it?” I asked, but he kept looked down a dead end. The dead end by the tall, brick buildings, to where Nick was heading to.

“Ugh, Nick,” Ellis spoke up,” I don’t think you should go there…”

“And why not?” he snapped back, with as much furiousness as a dog.

“Her, ergh, Hunter is growlin’ at that corner. Not really wise to go there, in my opinion.”

“Well, what happens if I see supplies there, should I just leave them and run out of weapons later, or what?” Ellis shrugged.

“Fine. Go get pummeled…” he just said, and walked away towards the tall skyscrapers to find some camp grounds.

“Please…” Nick muttered, as he went closer and closer to the tall dumpster.

“Look out1” I shrieked, as the dumpster began moving, and a huge, thick, meaty hand swung out like a fallen branch from a tree.

“Oh, shit! CHARGER!” Coach, yelled, and began firing just as I did.

“Huh?” Nick turned around, only to be greeted by a meaty hand picking him up and smashing him down like a toddler to a Barbie Doll. Man, I remember when I had those. The guns weren’t working. The Charger, or whatever that thing is, kept on pummeling Nick.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” I moaned, then took out my machete and sliced the Charger’s head off. The arm gently released, before falling to the ground itself. I dragged Nick out of the body, only for him to be covered in blood. Ironically, he was wearing a white suite.

I opened my bag, and got out a sewing needle, along with a small container with colored thread.

“Color preference?” I asked, sarcastically. He just pointed his finger to the black. I opened up his suite, only to reveal a huge gash to where the fingers of the Charger layed, on the left side of the ribs.

As I sewed, everyone just stood there and watched, like crows. Wow.

I sprinkled some vodka on the wound, as Nick yelped out in pain. Please.

Finishing up, I cut the thread and sprinkled some more alcohol, placing a huge bandage on the now, closed, wound. Coach and Francis helped get Nick on his feet, just as Ellis came bounding, screaming that he found a perfectly safe spot. The two men practically carried Nick, stopping every five minute to catch their breath.

Hunter tugged on Coach’s arm.

“Wassup, lil’ man?” he said, practically out of breath.

“Does this safe house HAS to be so far away?” Francis whined, then plopped to the floor.