Dylmas/Newtmas One-Shots

Dylmas - Shadow Preachers

Yay, more one-shots! I hope you enjoy it!

This one was suggested by Lizzielizzie12. I hope it's what you wanted!

Based on: Shadow Preachers by Zella Day (great song, I suggest you listen to it!).

3rd Person POV

Sweat trickled down Dylan's forehead as he struggled his way up the unstable hill (a literal mound of scorching hot sand). Light gusts of wind caused small whirlpools of sand to fly up into his face but spluttering, eyes watering, Dylan trudged forward. Nightfall was nearing. If he didn't find shelter soon, he might not live to see tomorrow – and even if he does, he'll have had to fight with everything that he's got.

Night was no longer peaceful; it was a death-trap. Night was when they were most active. The zombies.

Finally reaching the peak of the mountain of sand, Dylan scanned over the view in front of him. He could see a few, old, abandoned tower blocks – windows smashed, bricks crumbled, life removed. Smiling to himself, he stepped cautiously forward, careful not to slip down the hill. Step after step, he eventually made it to the bottom.

As the sun rapidly disappeared behind a defence of dark clouds, the sky overhead grew dark, innocent twinkling stars emerging one after another. Unfortunately, Dylan couldn't admire this natural beauty, as his heart began to race in his chest at the ever-growing louder, disembodied moans that echoed from the distance. Picking up his pace, Dylan rushed over to the closest building, slipping through the gap between the fallen down door and the collapsed ceiling.

It was dark inside, the remaining light being blocked by the tower block opposite. Crouching lower to the ground, keeping his footsteps light, Dylan crept through the abandoned tower. He could still here the horrifying moans from the dead, but they were quieter now.

Turning a corner, Dylan spotted a side-room. Relief flooded his chest, and after checking that it was safe to enter, he stepped inside – ducking under the half-closed shutter. He examined the room, finding some old, scraggy blankets and a pillow with a dark brown/red stain on one side. Noticing that the windows and other doors were all barricaded up with nailed planks of wood and furniture, Dylan smiled.

Nodding to himself, he began gathering the blankets and pillow, placing them neatly in a pile before collecting some unused, scrap bits of wood. Some of the wood was damp, so he left that to the side, but the rest was all placed in an organised pile not too far away from the blankets. Thankful for his survival lessons when he was younger – before this nightmare began – Dylan started up a fire using the scrap wood, a small one though as to not attract attention.

As the fire burned slowly, Dylan walked over to the shutter by the entrance. It looked as though someone had tried to escape quickly and had either forgotten to or didn't have time to close it behind them. Shrugging, knowing not to question things in this world, Dylan grabbed hold of the shutter and pulled it down forcefully until there was a click as it hit the ground. Content, Dylan went back over to the fire, sitting down on the floor and wrapping himself up in the blankets (which had a foul, stale scent).

He was just settling down, almost drifting off to sleep, when he was brought back to consciousness at the sound of something scrabbling around on the floor above. Holding his breath, Dylan looked up – although he knew that he wouldn't be able to see anything. The noise continued for a while, until it ceased, and Dylan grabbed his knife that he always placed beside himself at night. Gripping tightly onto the handle of the weapon, he waited.

Suddenly, a shadowed figure dropped from the ceiling, landing on the floor with an ungraceful bang. Luckily, it was on the other side of the shutters. Dylan remained tense, not sure whether it was a threat to him or not.