Harsh breathing and heavy pants echoed in his ears. His own frantic heart rate was making his palms sweat and he wondered if this was how he was going to die. This wasn’t supposed to happen to Park Jimin, but here he was, hiding on top of a children’s slide like some kind of pathetic imitation of his old self. The damn dog chasing him wasn’t even fatigued as it jumped at him from the bottom of the slide and he wondered how the hell he could let the gun slip from his fingers.
He had the shot! He could have hit the dog and at least injured it, but his damn nerves got the best of him and now he was—
The dog stopped barking and its head swung away from Jimin to face the distant silhouettes of four guys.
Holding in a relieved sob, Jimin held in the guilt that he was happy to have the dog focus on someone else and instead focused on holding his breath. The voices were getting louder and Jimin wondered who in their right mind would go around during the zombie apocalypse, mouthing off and attracting attention.
Of course, the zombies were hard to find, but they were there! And once one knew where you were, then more would rapidly follow.
He knew from experience.
The shouting got louder and Jimin noticed all four of them were stopped in the middle of the street. Their voices sounded familiar and if he were in the right frame of mind to pay attention, he would realize that he kind of recognized those voices. As it were, he was holding his breath and trying not to shake when he watched the zombie dog lift its head in the direction of the four newcomers.
He really hoped that the dead thing would move away so that he could retrace his steps, gather his father’s gun, and leave.
The dog before him growled, the sound rumbling through the deadie’s chest. It increased in intensity, and as the voices grew more agitated, the dog finally raised its head and howled. The sound sent a chill through Jimin’s body, especially since he was so close to the thing, and he really hoped that whoever was making all the noise ran for their life.
The talking had stopped now and Jimin didn’t even have time to blink before the dog was off, running full speed toward the loud group. Breathing a sigh of relief, Jimin slumped over, almost slipping down the slide. Waiting a few heartbeats, Jimin slowly poked his head out of the opening of the slide and was relieved to see that the dog, no, the dogs, had turned their attention to their chase down the street. Cautiously, Jimin hopped off the playground equipment, wincing slightly in paranoia when his feet crunched loudly against the woodchips in the play area.
When nothing came after him, Jimin broke into a sprint, running from the park, eyes on the ground and on the search for his lost weapon. Earlier, he had dropped it when the damn zombie dog had snarled at him, teeth snapping in his direction in a threat that was clearly understood and received. If only he had half the nerve his father wished he had, maybe then he could have saved himself.
‘And everyone else…’ Jimin thought grimly, only to immediately dispel the thought. He had to concentrate if he wanted to survive! He couldn’t afford to waste his time with what if scenarios. He had a gun to find.
There! The weapon was a small handgun, something that Jimin had never bothered to remember the name of before, but its size and weight fit perfectly into his hand.
Feeling secure now that he had a semblance of protection, Jimin did a quick check of the gun, unloading then loading the magazine clip, clicking the safety on and off, and generally making sure that everything was in order. As he could tell so far, the weapon was fine, not even a scratch on it from the fall earlier. It comforted him to some degree, even if he had mixed emotions about holding it again. It had been years, almost a decade since his father had taken him on weekend trips and taught him how to use a gun.
