FaultLine: A Call Of Duty Zombies Fanfiction

ONE

...Somewhere not far from Northern France (1918)...among barb-wired fields along with reanimated corpses...

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"Ouch" a weak whimper escaped my severed, dry lips which were by now tired of endless screaming and wailing for help. For my body was not coping with my will and hope was nothing more than a faint daydream.

It was too much for my weak stiff weight, crawling out of the putrid underground; I tilted my head to see it all rain. The sizzling noise of rain and the sky cracked into blue-white as thunder echoed.

And I stopped hoping for help; stopped my naïve insensitivity. Somebody excised my heart out and then left me to die. What hurt me more than the breaking of heart is that my childish want and need, which brought my doom. Now I lay helpless and tired, waiting death. I closed my eyes, tears flowed freely and stung.

I could just wait for my death to come...

"What-"

I jerked open my eyes as a surge of rainwater slapped my face, the coldness of it sent shivers down my spine and immediately came a strong breeze that took my breath away. I slowly recovered and witnessed the nightmare of the surrounding it was and momentarily, chuckled; am I dreaming? Gone through all that heart-wrenching hell; I sighed in utmost pleasure and relief.

No pain, just numbness. Good.

I stared straight, open mouthed, wide enough to take in oxygen, only to get in smoke and soot; scrutinizing the 'dream' which shook me to the core...This dream was not enjoyable or bright, it was dark and hummed of grief.

And as far as a human could lay his eyes on: It was oozing with decaying deem.

Pain.

Just pain.

Deep breath in... And out....

I put my left hand down and with much struggle and effort; I tried to stand and I abruptly felt the need to vomit and spat a mixure of mud and saliva at the sudden pain.

I grimaced at my present condition; black skinny jeans ripped at certain places but my AC/DC t-shirt was in better condition. Except of a hole over my lower belly and my mucky glasses, I guessed everything was fine.

I was lucky.

It could end badly, very very bad. My womanly instincts said so.

Walked a few, more like dragging my lifeless legs and I glanced around mindlessly, coughed bits of blood and saliva, with every push and pull of air, it felt miles albeit the little distance covered. It appeared I was luckily away from the real perimeter, where the mines and barricades were established, for as I stumbled forward the liveliness of the fight expanded; the bold sound of bullets rang and panic gripped and tugged my gut painfully. It was like standing in between a movie set, only difference was that of real life. The closer I got, the more my senses sensed, the rusty smell of iron, the cold whiplashes of water while people ran across the field to take cover.

It was... scary...

I could even hear someone scream 'hey, move!' from afar, voices muffled with the thunderous roar of the battle. Soon my feet dragged itself faster, the mud was slippery and I ran around desperately to find cover.

My mucky glasses in hand, I ran and ran. Everything looked blurred...

Something whooshed and blasted a someone's head like a grape which happened to be bobbing besides me, the poor person was too preoccupied to entertain a bruised girl in the fight, and soon he was nothing more than maggot food.