Tough Luck, High Hopes (ON HIATUS)

Charlotte

I walk through the broken down apartments, pulling my arrows out, along with my bow. I found them about a month ago, mid-condition, sitting in a place a lot like this one. The girl, Gracie, finally shut up. She knew enough to keep quiet in places where she hadn't been. Or she took my suggestion to be quiet. Either way, I was satisfied.

I didn't like her much. I don't know why I told her to follow me. I suppose it was because she was in a predicament close to mine. I definitely don't trust her. I don't trust anyone. Not after- not after my father.

I turn back to face her. "Keep your mouth shut," I whisper, "and stay right behind me." She nodded gravely.

My bowstring emitted a noise when I stretched it out, at the ready. I heard a Screecher's scream from the left. Silently, my arms raised themselves in shooting position. My aim is impeccable, after a month of practicing. A Screecher rounded the corner. It looked a lot like the one that killed Gracie's parents. Then again, they all look the same. I waited until it got a bit closer. I heard Gracie's breath pick up, panicky. I took a deep breath. Five... Four... Three... Two...

The Screecher went down without a sound. I stepped over the body, not four steps away, and grimaced. The body was relatively new. That means-

"Dammit," I whisper. "Spores."

"Excuse me?" Gracie whispers back. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"Just shut up." She nodded quickly. I head towards the back of the building. I held my breath when a Screecher looked directly at me and walked towards us. Making sure to make no noise, I placed one hand on an arrow, and the other on Gracie's mouth. Her breath grew quick and panicked again. We watched as it limped past us, making a sound like wood being stretched.

"What were those things?" Gracie whispered.

"They're called Screechers. Best to stay away. They're basically zombies."

"Zombies? Like those old teenage fantasies about zombie apocalypses?"

"Exactly like those. Except these are more dangerous. They're quick, agile, and persistent. Once you're trapped, you're dead."

"That's... Very nice to know," Gracie said, worriedly.

"Let's just make it past this building, okay?" I pulled out the gas masks uncle Jake found a few years ago. They weren't the best, but they were better than nothing. I handed one to Gracie after strapping mine over my head. She looked at it hopelessly. I sighed, and shoved it over her head. It was a bit big on her, as it was Jake's, but she didn't complain.

I kept my hand on an arrow, ready to stab the closest Screecher. I took four steps, and heard yelling upstairs. I scrambled up the set of stairs in front of us, fumbling for my Glock17. The strap broke while doing so, leaving me cursing and picking up the gun from where it landed. I loaded it, and aimed it the door, waving for Gracie to stand back.

Opening the door, I saw uncle Jake rolling about on the floor, yelling at another man. I didn't know who he was, but if he wants to mess with Jake, he wants to mess with me.