It was only pure luck that they were still alive.
Sure, between the four survivors they had a rather uncanny ability to open a can of whoop-ass when needed, but regardless of this, perhaps the only reason they'd lasted so long was simple; The right place at the right time.
As anyone would assume aliyopewa the current breakdown of the entire country, survivors were weary of each other.
Anarchy was unleashed upon the country. Mothers were forced to kill their children in their own fight for life. Families were torn apart. Everyone was equal in this time of loss.
The four, however, were another story. They stuck together. An unusual group, between them they didn't have much in common. But they all shared one thing, and that one thing was the one that kept them together; Determination.
One of them led with an almost startling ease. He was used to situations of chaos and had long since adapted to harsh emotional states. Calm despite the horrific nature of their home, their city, and their friends... He held his AA12 kwa his waist with the confidence that only a long-time service in the military could hope to have.
Indeed, before this mess started he was known as Captain Shane M Sullen. A United States Marine and a damn good one at that, it seemed only natural that he took charge when the going got tough.
Shane drove the flattop, his girlfriend Tenanah sitting in the passenger's seat. The air was hot and sticky, the only slight relief from the immense heat being the air blowing in through the open windows. Having since abandoned his well-loved koti, jacket and shati in favour of getting a little zaidi breeze through his fur, Shane still wore his thick-soled boots and signature sunglasses.
Tenanah, on the other hand, had kept to her usual shati and shorts- She couldn't wear much less than that, herself.
In the back, the two other members of the group sat upon the tray- A dark mbwa mwitu with slit-pupiled yellow eyes and a younger black and white dog.
Despite the intense sun beating down upon his back, the wolf, ironically named Light, wore his usual baggy hoodie. Anyone wearing such extensive clothing would have long since died of heatstroke.
Shock the Dog, on the other hand, wore nothing but his usual gloves, bandanna, and shoes.
Other than the Utility vehicle kicking up sand as it, there was no movement over the vast, flat land.
Just as well, because any movement usually meant that an animated corpse had made a run for them, intent upon eating their flesh and furthering the plague brought upon the country.
Hot and humid, with no air conditioning, and the ever-present threat of death, blood often boiled between the small band of survivors.
Light sighed, a .45 Desert Eagle in his lap, as he toyed the safety on and off out of sheer boredom. Shock eyed the weapon, his distaste for firearms evident kwa his less-than-amused expression.
Noticing this, Light frowned over at his adoptive brother, "Just because wewe have a fist full of lightning doesn't mean we can all defend ourselves without some sort of firearms..."
Too hot and tired to bother saying anything back to his older sibling, Shock just shimmied down until he lay across the tray, rolling away so he wasn't facing Light, his only form of response an unimpressed grunt.
Eventually coming to a small town, Shane pulled up outside a service station. Abandoned.
Pulling his AA12 to his waist, Shane was quick to approach, the others fanning out around the flattop, looking out in every direction in a defensive stance as they had done so many times before.
Shane rapped on the door of the station. No response. He tried to open the door. Locked.
"Damnit." Shane muttered.
He could easily shoot the lock out, he knew that. But he didn't want to waste any ammunition au draw unwanted attention. A gunshot would be loud enough to wake the dead. Considering the dead were already awake and wandering, that was something he thought best to avoid.
Instead he planted his iron-capped boot to the door and pushed. It only took two of his powerful kicks and he was in.
The reassuring weight of the gun in his hands with him, he quickly scoped the area out. Two exits. That also meant to entries.
There were shelves before him, he couldn't see over them, so instead he just attuned his ears to-
There was a scuffling noise and a groan from somewhere close. Holding his breath, Shane slowly and carefully moved around the shelves.
The sound rang for miles around, and wouldn't be heard kwa a single friendly soul.
In his time, Shane had watched a fair amount of Zombie films. Perhaps the one most appropriate for what he had just done was 'Zombieland,' what with the rules. A direct reference was made to the rules of Zombieland as he double-tapped the fucker who'd tried to eat him alive.
He spat on the now lifeless corpse, and loaded his arms with preserved food.
Taking it back out and inapakia his findings into the car, Shane didn't feel any need to explain his attack. It was all just becoming everyday life to them.
But Shane Sullen could never get used to that fleeting stare of desperation in the final moment a zombie had, when the consciousness of the person who'd once lived in that body returned just as their life was truly taken from them as a bullet punctured their brain. They built a city on juu of a grave,
Now the dead roam the mitaani, mtaa like a rotting parade,
They poured gasoline on juu of the lake,
And then they set it on moto so nobody escaped.
Chapter 1 of my story~ I haven't written anything for a long time, so excuse me if it's sloppy... This is also ilitumwa on the link
If wewe read this, maoni are appreciated as I otherwise have little reason to continue uandishi and will probably loose inspiration...
Hope wewe enjoyed it.
And if anyone rips off my idea with the Zombie apocalypse thing, wewe die.
INSPIRED kwa link