Chapter Text
Ashlyn pov:
I’m fucked. That thought is loud-louder then the sound of my heartbeat and blood rushing to my ears. I raise my pace up as I make a sharp turn to the tree. Dodging Tree trunks, hanging branches, and the absurd amount of debris. The sound of crunching leaves take up all my attention.
Well that and the sound of a raging pack of flesh eating monsters running behind me.
“Of course,” I mutter between ragged breaths. “All this for a lighter.”
I jerk my head side to side, briefly weighing out my options on what to do. Thoughts run through my mind. I knew I shouldn’t had took the risk to go into the town-it was a dumb idea. The dumbest decision I could ever make, maybe it’s the dehydration or the fact iv hadn’t had an eaten an actual meal since only god knows. My last lighter ran out and fire Is a key factor in survival and I refuse to die just because I couldn’t boil some damn water.
I jump over an root of someOvergrown weeds, landing hard. Pain jolts up my leg but I ignore it, focusing on running. The gate I hurdled thirty seconds ago didn’t hold. I can hear them tearing through it, wood snapping, metal screeching. Great. Just great. I huff out a breath. “Shit..!” My backpack is too damn heavy- not letting me run at full speed, my energy is low, my patience is even lower. The fact I even went to that god forsaken town just for one tiny lighter?! It’s so small yet it’s so helpful…as of right now it seems like I could have done without it.
The sound of an infected grabs my attention and I make an abrupt stop-but I’m to late. I barely have time to think before something slams into me from the side. I hit the ground hard—air knocked from my lungs, pain flaring up my shoulder. I thrash wildly, dirt filling my mouth, nails clawing at anything solid. A rotten face is in mine. Blackened gums. Missing jaw. Milky eyes that don’t blink. I’m trying to keep my distance but it’s too strong and im far too exhausted. “Get..OFF ME!” I yell as the undead man slammed my head in the dirt. It snarls and lunges. I yank my crowbar up just in time and its disgusting teeth sink into the metal instead of my throat. My hands shake as I wrestle it back.
Where’s my gun? My gun. My holster. Thigh strap. Focus, Ashlyn.
My hands is too preoccupied by trying to keep this thing from biting into me, and my gun is in my thigh strap. It pushes down on me. I can barely keep it back now. My arms are burning, and I’m seconds away from giving out. I feel the cool bite of desperation curl in my gut. I grunt as the sound of rumbling comes closer. God how did I manage to attract a whole crowd of theses thing! What was that one dumb quote my dad use to say about unwanted attention?
My knife.
I slide my foot back, frantically feeling for the edge of my shoe. Click. The hidden blade pops out. I drive it up into the thigh. It groans, stunned, and I take my chance. I drive the crowbar forward and push him off me. I don’t even feel the recoil when I yank the gun out and unload. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.
The thing’s head cracks open, and it slumps like a dropped sack of meat. I’m lucky I didn’t use up all my bullets already, one bullet would have definitely not even made a dent in him. I collapse, gasping. Sweat and blood dripping down my face. “Son of a—” I grab my shoulder. Clawed. Deep. Hurts way to bad. “Perfect,” I mutter. “Just fucking perfect.”
And then I hear it—rumbling.
Not behind me. In front of me.
No time to rest.
I get back up and start darting. My hideout is way too far and covered in infected. Didn’t a pass a school on the way out of town? Might be a long shot but it’s all I have.