\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1665701-To-dream
Item Icon
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #1665701
Zombies........Enough said :)
"Running....running...why?"

I thought to myself. And some how it feels good. To run. Just go. No purpose really, just to run. But this is no free-run. My name is Max, I'm 17 years old, and I live in a world (If you could call it a world) full of the dead. Dead walking. Zombies if you will. So...running, the feeling of the air I breathe burns my lungs. My legs are tired. My eyes are teared from the wind burn. I'm alone. Stopping, out of breath and to calm down, i recollect myself to reload. Shotguns are a bitch. Desert eagles are too. I myself, carry an old .22 calliber rifle. Straight shooter, no scope. Scopes are to much to fuck with. I manage to reload easy. I turn and take down to Puss heads(zombie).



"DOME!"

I yell out in my head. Five more still standing. I take two more shots and drop to more zombies.

"Three more." I thought.

Somehow they still walk, with no fear, no pain. I almost feel bad for them, then they try to eat me. Then, I don't feel so bad.

"Shit" I said out loud.

The one thing the shooter of a rifle wants to hear...."click"

"Awwwww jeese" I say.

"Why did you have to jam now?" I asked as if it would answer.

No weapons, no ammo, time to run. I run so hard my lungs feel like they will burst. I hit the checkpoint. And signaled the guard to open the gate. He pressed the button but it wouldn't open.

"WHAT THE FUCK, OPEN THE GATE!!!!"

I turn and face my fate. the Zombies devour my flesh as I scream.

Then I wake up covered in sweat. My mom comes in to my room.

"You okay honey?" She asked

"Yeah" I smiled "I gotta stop eating before bed. 
© Copyright 2010 Phatt Kidd (phatt_kidd93 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1665701-To-dream