I'd rather be ashes [Inactive]

[revo]

Gabriel Hughes, age 34


13,567 days after the outbreak


Somewhere in Arizona, USA

“I would rather be ashes than dust!


I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot.


I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet.


The function of man is to live, not to exist.


I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.


I shall use my time.”


― Jack London

​

Gabriel had frankly had enough of this dust and heat. It was mid-July and he was in the middle of a goddamn inferno... As if the walking undead weren't enough of a hassle, he had to constantly sweat his balls off and guzzle down water just to avoid a stroke. He stopped his motorcycle, sat back on his tail bone, and took a ragged bandanna out of the front pocket of his jeans. He took off his helmet and wiped the fabric across his brow which was literally dripping, sweat cascading unattractively down his face and into his stubble. His hair was matted and soaked through. Thank god he'd disregarded the rules about safe riding apparel ages ago because he couldn't have handled wearing leather on a day like today. Let's face it, road rash was pretty far down the totem pole on the list of his worries.


Needless to say he wasn't in a very pleasant mood, not that that was saying much. Rarely if ever is Gabe in a "pleasant mood." Jacobs had left him a few months back. "Left him" was how he liked to phrase it in his mind because he couldn't face the harsh reality that he had been the one to put a bullet in his brain. Killed, left, gone, dead. It was all the same. Gabe was alone, with nothing but the open road and endless corpses to kill. He scanned the horizon, lazily kicking out the stand to lean the bike securely, and throwing his right leg over the front of it to hop off. He retied boots that he'd stolen the last town back from a reanimated farm boy, checked his pack was securely fastened to the back of the bike, and wiped dust off the dash so he could get a look at the fuel gauge. In a few more miles he'd have to make a stop and siphon some gas. He was starting to get low.


Again he looked about, shielding his eyes against the sun that was mercifully beginning to drop down in the sky. He squinted, with eyes that were red and tired from the sun and sand, trying to see as far as he could into the distance. It was the middle of the desert and he hadn't seen a walker for miles. Usually when it's too quiet he becomes suspicious but right now, out in the middle of nowhere, it was nice. Almost relaxing. Out here everything was dead. Not staggering, moaning walker dead, really really dead. Odd that there was peace in that, in the absolute absence of life... but there was.


He chuckled to himself and the morbid path his brain had wandered down. Maybe he really was losing it. How long could a man wander alone without talking to another soul before he took a long dive off the deep end of the crazy pool? He dismissed the thought. Out here that kind of thinking would surely be the end of him.


One day at a time was all he had, all he could allow himself to think about. He was still breathing. He didn't want to eat human flesh. Today was a good day.

 

[Elixir]

August's lashes fluttered as she caught herself nearly falling asleep. She blinked slowly — once, twice, three times — before a jolt surged through her body and her mind clicked into gear. Shit! she thought frantically, and out of instinct, pulled a baseball bat from a loop on her knapsack with fear-induced speed. The tightened grip caused her knuckles to turn white as she held the weapon at the ready, her eyes flitting back and forth as she pressed her spine up against the facade of the building she had previously been using to lean her meager weight against.


When she came to the conclusion that there was no one around — living or dead — she let out a breath of exhausted relief. She slid her back down the side of the storefront until she sat upon her backside, legs bent and out in front of her in a slight sprawl.


Dangerous was an understatement when describing what the world had become; nothing, no one, and nowhere was safe anymore. Rest was reserved for times where she knew that she was secure and out of harm's way — it wasn't often she found moments that met those requirements. The last time she had truly reposed was around two, maybe three days ago. She couldn't remember exactly. Her bed that night had been within the foliage of a tree; the undead weren't capable of climbing, let alone maneuvering across branches, so she had known it would be a good place to sleep before moving on the following morning. Never would Ast have been able to catch even a wink without been over one hundred percent sure that those things couldn't get to her. She mentally berated herself for having just let her guard down.


Dying wasn't her biggest fear — it used to be, when this all first started; now it was reanimating into one of those flesh-eating monsters. The thought that there was a possibility of becoming one of them made her want to vomit. She had been in a group, once; there'd been two others. Both met their untimely demise but neither by bite. No — other living people had murdered them in cold blood. The line between what was worse — the undead or the living — had been blurred a long, long time ago.


Getting to her feet, she pulled her pack off of her shoulders to return the bat to its place. Making sure it was snug, she took out a small canister and put it to her lips, letting some water dribble into her mouth. She knew she was dehydrated; the lightheadedness and the urge to throw up were sure signs. Despite this, she wanted to preserve her drink for as long as she could — there was no telling when she would next find a clean source. After putting the canteen back and zippering the pocket closed, she shrugged her backpack back on and continued walking, her pace quickly turning into a half-jog as she spotted what looked like an abandoned camp in the distance.


After what felt like hours, August padded onto the site with tense shoulders, unsure what to expect. Her gaze locked on several unopened cans of food that sat a little ways off, and she headed toward them, maintaining the partial walk partial run. Lifting the tins, she brushed off some ants before shoving them all three into her pack. Soon after she heard soft noises approaching, and her shoulders and neck stiffened as she thought that someone found her trespassing. Turning around, her vision immediately focused on a walking corpse coming straight for her.


She staggered backward, nearly falling as she pulled, this time a gun, out of a holster on her belt. This was the first zombie she'd seen in a while, so she thought the quickest way to get rid of it was to lodge a bullet in its skull. One bang, and it's be done. As she pointed the pistol, she noticed more of them come in to view, appearing from places that she hadn't thought to check. Fear danced in every facet on her eyes as she started slowly walking backward. This was the biggest hoard she'd ever encountered — this camp must have all been infected. There were probably over fifteen, way more than she could handle as a one-man army. Her breaths quickened as the mass advanced with speed toward her, and she stood for a moment, frozen. Coming to her senses, she staggered a bit and shot two in the head before bolting, sounds of the gun ringing in her ears as the rest of the crowd, alerted by the noise. began running after her.


Her weakened state was giving her a huge disadvantage; she could hear them getting closer by the second. She looked over her shoulder, dark hair flying into her face as she pulled the trigger twice more to stop the closest ones. The same phrase kept replaying in her head over and over and she sprinted down the street.


I'm going to die.


I'm going to die.


I'm going to die.

 

[revo]

Suddenly, Gabe was snapped back to reality. The sound of two gunshots rang out clearly over a ridge to the east. His heart stuttered for a moment. Zombies don’t shoot guns, was the first thought that popped into his head. It seemed ridiculous yes, but instinct seized on the obvious in its progression through possible explanations. If it wasn’t a zombie it was human and still breathing. The irony that he’d just been worrying about his amount of time without seeing another living person was not lost on him.


He has come across his share of survivors in the past, and rarely has it an enjoyable experience. With the exception of a few struggling city dwellers that live in crude towns reminiscent of the middle ages, most survivors are more concerned with looting, raping, and killing than building up civilization and helping their fellow man. He frowned, shifting on the balls of his feet, taking a step closer to the noise, then pausing mid-stride.


”You should get on your bike and drive away.” His conscious told himself. ”It’s none of your business.” But somewhere inside, what’s left of his humanity wasn’t entirely dried up. It still clung, precariously close to letting go and falling over the edge into nothingness, but it was there. That part of himself refused to ignore another human being potentially in need of help. Several more shots rang out in succession, sealing his decision.


”For fucksake.” He muttered, cursing himself for being an reckless and willingly going toward danger that would probably result in his untimely death. Who knew what was over that ridge…


He left the bike where it stood and ran the 800 meters to where the ridge overlooked a small valley below. Once he neared the overhang he slowed to get a good vantage point. Below was what appeared to be an abandoned army camp, like a small makeshift town with a street down the middle. On that gravel road a girl was running, wild hair streaming behind her in dark waves. Behind her, a big group of zombies was gaining steam, stumbling over themselves to get to her.


His protective instincts reared their head but he stuffed them down. This could be a trap. She could be with one of the many uncivilized groups that lay in wait for other survivors and pounce at the best opportunity. Sometimes they did it to sell them in human trafficking sex or labor circles, other times to kill for sport, and the worst of times because they’d taken to cannibalism in some weird tribute to their zombie brethren.


He shuddered, focusing his eyes to examine her more closely. Attached to his belt was a pair of binoculars and he used them to hone in on her face. Her eyes looked panicked, crazed with fright. She was either a great actress or honestly in deep shit. She pulled the trigger twice to take down the closest walkers but with the amount of zombies on her ass and the sidearm she carried she was going to need to reload soon; by then it would be too late. No one put themselves in this situation willingly, he decided.


Strapped to his back was his rifle. He always carried Leila, as he affectionately called her, and his sidearm on his person. His shot gun was strapped to the bike, and despite the fact that it didn’t have much range, he wished he’d grabbed it. This girl needed an arsenal. He began counting as he picked out a spot on the ridge and laid down to get a good shooting angle. She’d taken down the first two. One, two, five, seven, ten, twelve, sixteen. Shit. Luckily there were only about five she needed to be immediately concerned with. The others had trouble keeping up due to severed legs or just hadn’t had time to gather for the feast yet. One was caught in some barbed wire he was dragging around and it slowed him down.


He settled down into the dust, sizing up the shot. It’d been a long time since he’d done this, but getting down to her would take a minute or three she just didn’t have. Bang! His ears rang as the bullet sprang from his weapon, over the desert scape, and into the skull of the zombie closest to her heals. He ejected the shell and lined up his next target.

 

[Elixir]

August could hear her heart pounding in her ears like drums of war. Her chest was becoming uncomfortably tight and she could barely respire, but, considering the circumstances, she didn't have the time stop to catch her breath. One or two seconds could be the deciding factor in whether she would continue to live or die a horrible, agonizing death. The heat-of-the-moment adrenaline coursing through her veins was most likely what was allowing her to keep going — she knew that without it, she'd be collapsed on the ground. She couldn't even gasp or wheeze or pant — she was so deprived of air that she felt like her lungs were having trouble functioning properly. If only she wasn't so dehydrated and tired--


She forced herself to look over her shoulder again to determine how close the zombies had become. Damn it, oh shit! Multiple other curses and slurs repeated in her mind as she faced forward again, pleading to accelerate and gain the speed she needed to create more distance between her and the undead hoard. The grip on her pistol was like iron as she whipped back. She fired a shot but missed the head, the bullet burrowing into the chest of one of the monsters. She pulled the trigger to dispatch another projectile, but she was met with the sound of an empty click.


It took her a moment to realize what this meant.


Her mind refused to process her scenario. "No, no no no no no! No, please, there has to be bullets left. Please." She spewed out a fusillade of frightened words as she pulled the trigger over and over again, but to no avail. She then heard the sound of a gunshot — but it wasn't her own. She couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from, and she didn't have the minutes to check, so she just prayed that whoever was manning the firearm wasn't aiming at her. She noticed that the shot that'd rang out had taken down the one closest, but her shift of focus had caused her to trip over her own feet. Her knees and palms scraped the gravel with the force of her run, and nasty gashes tore at the skin, drawing blood. She scrambled to her feet as quickly as humanly possible, grunting and kicking off undead arms from where they had grabbed her left leg.


For some reason, she thought of how gangling things might difficulty turning quickly, so she began to change her course of sprint into a serpentine-like pattern. Zig-zagging and changing direction after every several meters, she hoped that this was creating more space between herself and the things following her. It felt like she had been running for hours, but in reality it had only been a couple minutes. In drastic situations, time tended to slow down.


She began to cough and dry heave, clutching her stomach as she felt she was about to vomit. She felt herself slow, but she couldn't help it.


She just had to make sure she didn't stop.

 

[revo]

He watched threw the scope as the girl stumbled and then began a zig-zag pattern down the street. He nodded in-perceptively in approval; good, the girl had a head on her shoulders. He re-positioned his hands, caressing the metallic barrel and readjusting the rifle on his shoulder.


Bang! Two. Eight year old boy in a baseball cap.


Bang! Three. Middle-aged woman in overalls and gardening gloves.


Bang!


Dammit. He'd only winged that one. The old man stumbled and fell, his leg exploding out from under him. He made a face that likely elicited a moan Gabe was too far away to hear. No pain registered there in his expression, only a mindless desperate frustration that he was inhibited from reaching his prey. Another bullet flew and put him down for good.


Gabe exhaled sharply and scanned the crowd. One more.


Bang! Five. Teenage hipster girl with only one converse sneaker, the other foot bare.


The place was crawling with them but he'd dispensed the biggest threat. Now how to get to them. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and started sliding down the ridge, boots first. Gravel and dust kicked up and he made a hell of a racket. He held his breathe so he didn't get lungs full of dirt. His hip hit a rock on the way down and he yelled out in pain. It was a good twenty to thirty foot slide with gravel, rocks, soot, and desert plants that were more than often prickly. By the time he made it to the bottom he looked like he'd been through a sand-storm. Luckily though, for the girl, all the noise had drawn attention from the undead. A few of them on the edge of the camp were headed his way.


"That's right, come on boys!" He shouted, eyes wide and wild. His injured hip caused him to limp as he picked himself up and walked towards them. "Come anddd gett ittt, suckbags." He hit the first one square in the forehead and did a little internal happy dance. Six.

 

[Elixir]

August nearly jumped a mile out of her skin as she heard the sound of another gunshot. She had blocked out all the sounds of her surroundings, her attention being focused solely on escaping the undead that followed her; she had been shocked out of her stupor by the ringing that was now present in her ears. Daring to spare a look behind her, she saw that one of the zombies — what used to be a little boy — had been taken out by a bullet to the head. She didn't know who was helping her, or why he or she was doing it, but her gratitude was strong. She didn't want to die.. to turn in to one of those things.


Deciding that it would probably be best to fully concentrate on running rather than pondering over her savior, she kept at her pattern of snaking as she sprinted further down the road. The noise of three more going down elicited a silent ‘hallelujah’ from the girl's lips. Now that the ones on her heels had been dispatched, she slowed her speed down to a walk and then to a complete stop, dropping to her knees and gasping loudly for the air that she so greatly needed.


Breathing heavily through her mouth, her gaze jerked up as she the sound of a loud yell reverberated through the area; a man, likely somewhere in his thirties, was sliding down the nearby ridge with a rifle slung over his shoulder.


She didn't know whether to run to him or stay put.


She remained where she was. Judging by his gun, August easily deduced that this was the person who had been aiding her. The commotion he had created while making his way down from higher ground caused the zombies to shift their attention from her to him. As they begun heading his way, he began shouting at them before shooting a bullet through the closest one's head.


Still on the ground, she removed her backpack from her shoulders to retrieve the bow and quiver that were strapped to it. She'd taught herself to use it after much practice. Putting an arrow into place and lining it up, she pointed the weapon toward the undead that was closing in on the stranger and let it fly. It sank right into the back of its head and caused it to collapse right into the dirt. Proud of her aim, August inserted another arrow into her bow and began to align it once more.

 

[revo]

Before Gabe could even get the seventh kill in his sights, the zombie fell, the young girl's arrow burrowed in it's skull. It fell forward into a heap at his feet, with a thud and billowing dust. Gabe's right eyebrow raised in amusement. Well, well... he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen someone take down a zombie with a bow. Few had the patience to learn such an outdated craft.


He had little time to ponder over it however. Three zombies were scrambling and clawing to get up to the his spot at the base of the hill. Shocked by just how fast they'd engaged him, he opened rapid-fire, mowing them down from left to right, wasting a few bullets in his rush. Shit, close one. That's ten... or was is eleven? He'd lost count. How many had he counted on the hill? Sixteen?


He scanned the camp but found no immediate threat. Zombies don't lay in wait, they don't set traps. They single-mindedly run down their food source with no strategy. So... where the hell were they? He squinted into the midday sun, his eyes catching momentarily with the girl's. She had her arrow loaded, ready. He gave her a grim nod of recognition and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm, both hands still gripping his weapon.


He stood up to his full height and jumped down off the hill to flat, solid ground. He cradled his gun comfortably. Slowly, he made his way over to the girl, scanning their surroundings, getting more and more uneasy. They'd made a shit ton of noise, the zombies had them in their sights. They were coming, he just didn't know when or from where. His boots moved soundlessly over the terrain until he was standing beside the girl. He didn't even both saying a word, just placed his back to hers and continued scanning.


After a long pause he finally spoke. "There's at least five more." He whispered. "Where..." And then, like a bad horror movie, they emerged from around one of the big equipment tents. If it'd been a cinematic event there would have been a really cool explosion behind them or something. Instead they just moaned pathetically.


They'd gotten caught on a parachute the milita had left behind and with no sense to get themselves free they struggled against each other, an uncoordinated mass. As they passed the tent, the paracord snagged on one of the tent stakes and took the whole thing down with it, slowing them down considerably. Gabe smiled. Looks like these guys were late to the party.


"Alright kid, let's see what you got." He said, nodding towards their new friends.

 

[revo]

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