DISCONTINUED: Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons: The Apocalypse

Lost

"Now I can't go on. I can't even start. I've got nothing left, just an empty heart."

Hiccup:

It was getting hot, with the sun beaming down into the van, windows all up and just the radio on. Not even from the car, just this old thing with an antenna and a knob that you'd find in Grease Or Back to the Future or some other movie from the 50s or 60s or 80's or whatever. I laid down in the empty van taking watch as the other two hunted for supplies.

Apparently this was making use of myself.

As I turned the non slowly and back again, I heard a static sound muddling a mans voice.

"Berk has been overrun." Static noises. "-beginning to spread-" Static noises. -"Government is releasing Scotland citizens-" More static. But this time for a longer point, so I hit the old radio and the mans voice said, "All remaining citizens on East coast must head to Atlanta-"His voice drowned in static again, and this time, no amount of hitting or adjusting would bring the voice back.

Georgia wasn't too far, we'll it couldn't be, no.. But no doubt we'll hit traffic as soon as we hit a freeway. I wiped the sweat forming in my palm as it dripped. Vans needed windows, and if science could advance now, that wouldn't be a problem. But obviously that wouldn't work for long. I grabbed the shot gun and hunting knife Astrid had let me borrow and pulled the door open to let in cool air.

But a body came charging at me as soon as my eyes could adjust, clawing at me as I suppressed a tell for help. I kicked at it as it pulled my body out of the van, cutting my elbow on the door. I took a quick glance back to find  small trail of blood was left behind on the aids of the door. This zombie may have been slow, but it was strong. It growled as I kicked, not being able to take a bit out of me, or scratch me through my jeans and hoodie.

These are the reasons I hated being weak. Well, there were many reasons before hand, but now that the apocalypse was an issue, being eaten was now at the top of my list.

But I didn't have to be weak, right? I just had to fight.

Fight.

I reach out my free hand to the door, whig slid shut as it pulled me. I used every ounce of body strength I had left to pull myself up, and then twist my legs to loosen it's grip.

When it finally did, I flipped on the ground and scurried to my feet.

I ran, my backpack still fastened to my back to lure it away. I couldn't shoot it, the gun shot would attract too many other zombies that might be around, and I only had a single round. If I got one shot out of the thing, I wouldn't be able to fend them off if they come for me.

The world was disgusting now, but I did what I had to do; I ran far away, deep into the woods. (Which, now that I can conclude, was utterly stupid.)

The zombie limped, but It wasn't far behind. Right when I had the opportunity to make a break for it, the most cliche thing happened;I tripped.

Fortunately, I was able to hide behind a thick tree to spare me time to think of a plan. It was obvious that I couldn't out run it and make it back to the van in time, so I scurried through my bag. Unzipping it, I managed to find my pencil. God dammit, seriously? No. Pencil was probably the worst weapon to use for killing a clawing dead cannibal. So I reached for my belt, with my hunting knife latched to the side.

But that was just it, it was latched on too well. The buckle made a knot, and it wouldn't budge enough to pull it out. I sighed, leaning my head back and mentally slapped myself.

I gripped my pencil reluctantly. I would have to kill something for the first time with nothing but a pencil.

I heard it growling from the other side of the tree, sniffing the air for the familiar scent of human flesh. I heard it limp in my direction, rustling of leaves under it's feet.