Level 2.3

And now Jim tries to get out of the mill.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Jim slowly pushed his bike up another ramp. Behind him, he could still hear the roar of the flames. He could still feel the heat, even up here. The gas should burn itself out. Looking back, he saw the light dancing from the flames. It must still be expanding. But there couldn’t be enough for the flames to get outside the mill. That was the last thing he wanted.

Nearing the top of the ramp, he slowed. The chase was getting to him now. Taking a deep breath, he leaned on the bike. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a bottle of water and took a shallow gulp before stowing it back. 

A scream made him jump and almost drop the bike. Looking behind him, he heard more screaming. He couldn’t tell if it was from pain or the madmen’s usual hunting call. He didn’t plan on sticking around to find out. Pulling out his crowbar, he walked to the top of the ramp and checked both sides before stowing it and hopping on his bike.

He wanted out of here. This place, even for the rural town that it was, had far too many people in it for his tastes.

Pedaling, he felt the lactic acid in his legs. He was tired. He wasn’t sure how much more he could run. But, he figured it better be enough. Because if it wasn’t, it was the last thing he’d ever do.

Slowly, he left the mill. Slowly because of his exhaustion. Slowly because now he had to make a choice. He looked at the river bank. Or, more accurately, the road next to the river. The road he had seen enough of those madmen to last a lifetime. And he had to cross that river.

So, why had he made up this s****y plan? He touched the pocket where the picture was. Right. Her.

His gaze crossed the river. There were three structures over it. One was a suspension bridge. It was covered with cars. That was out.

The next was a train bridge. He had been up there once. It was awkward. Harder to run on. And actually very high. It probably wasn’t the best idea.

The only other option was a mill bridge. It was wide enough for one, and it was another suspension bridge. Jim honestly had no idea what it was for. But it was a skinny thing of metal with waist high railings. 

Behind him, the screams were getting closer.

He looked at the bridges again. Sighing, he started towards the mill bridge. It was the closest. And he didn’t have time to be picky.

Author's Note

All criticism is welcome. Please review.

Reviews

[deedsy]

amazing, really nice use of the zombie genre without it being too cliched captivates and there iss always something happening. I mean I started on level 1 and read everything you had on it and honestly I hope you enjoy writing that as much as I enjoyed reading it. As for criticism few spelling mistakes no biggie that is literally all I can say. Well done!