Trapped

This is a little short story based on "Call of Duty: Black Ops Zombies". I wrote it around the time the game came out. Its told in a first person pov, OC btw, and tells of a survivors last minutes.

Slowly, I inch my eyes open to gaze upon the darkness that surrounds me. The slow, unsteady steps of the undead outside of the closet is the only thing I can heard other than the sound of my own shallow breathing and the voice of death itself whispering its sweet, painful words in my ear. I have barricaded myself in this little piece of hell many would call a closet and as I look down, the darkness finally gives way to the dim rays of light that shine underneath the closet doorway.

My vision then drifts to the area beside my left thigh.

A pool of blood has already formed beneath my leg from the gaping wound in my thigh where one of the undead b******s outside had taken a chunk out of me before I hacked its head off with my now long lost machete. A sharp pain is followed up with the sight of the wound, but I force myself to remain silent.

A low knock sounds on the closet door.

My head snaps up and my eyes fix themselves on the doorway. On the floor beside my right thigh lays a nickel-plated Colt M1911A1 .45 pistol, but even it would be useless if more than one the walkers tried to get at me now since it now held only two of the eight rounds it held before.

A low knock sounds again and this time, the knob shakes a little.

I clap my hand over my mouth as I feel the need to cough; the sound is muffled but still audible to even the most hard-of-hearing. I watch the door intently, waiting for the knob to rattle again or the soft knock of a limp body to brush against it for the third time. My hand inches closer to the pistol with each passing second even though I know that if I were to blow off even one of the last two rounds, more walkers would come and I’d be swarmed and consumed in no time at all.

What other choice did I have though? Those last two rounds were my last line of defense.

They were the only things standing in the way of my living and dying.

A knock on the door again, this time it’s louder than the previous two.

A half-growled groan echoes in my ears from the other side of the door.

I take hold of the pistol and lift it from the dusty floor and aim it at the doorway. My hand begins to shake from the sudden weight in my grip and my vision begins to blur to the point of where the door looks like nothing more than a black smudge and the pistol a distorted piece of silver.

The effects of blood loss are becoming more apparent with each passing second I sit here waiting and watching. With every fresh drop of blood that falls from my leg to the pool of blood beneath my thigh, I feel my soul slipping farther and farther into the darkness of death.

I take in a sharp breath and drop my arm; the weight of the pistol being too much for me to bear in my weakened state. My hand and the pistol hit the floor next to my thigh, the steel barrel of the pistol hitting the concrete floor with a sharp clank. My heart stops and my breath catches in my throat at the sound as I stare half conscious at the door for fear of the walkers having heard the noise.

A few seconds pass and there is no sign of the walkers having heard.

“GRAAAAGH!”

I tense at the sound of one of the walkers crying out. My heart is no longer still, it now beats like a jackhammer within my chest as I clench the stock of the pistol and raise it once again and take aim. I clench the pistols stock with all my strength as if it were the other thing keeping me from slipping away and into the darkness in which death was waiting for me.

A loud crash hits the door. The doorknob rattles again and another loud crash hits it.

“Come on!” I shout with all my might. “You want me! Come and get me, flesh bags!”

Another crash against the door followed up by another and then another until finally the center of the door explodes. An arm reaches through to wildly scratch at the air in search of a victim as what sounded like a thousand sorrowed groans scream out in search for blood.

I smile at the walker’s persistence. “Come on! Come take a bit out of me if you can!” I angle my pistol at the opening in the door just as the walker withdraws its arm from the doors gaping wound and laugh when I see a walker dip its head down to peer inside the closet.

The walker looks directly at me with its wide sickening yellow eye and lets out a devilishly horrifying growl that literally sends shivers sliding up my spine like the blade of a hot knife.

I pull the trigger when I have the sights of the barrel slide aligned with the walker’s head and watch as the walker’s head snaps back with the bullet that had entered its eye and blew out of the back of its head. The slide shoots back to eject the spent shell before returning to its original position and chambering the last round of the magazine. I then turn the pistol on myself and position the barrel against the underside of my chin.

I shivered from both fear and joy as I prepare myself to end myself. I look up to the ceiling above me and close my eyes as I begin to whisper a soft prayer to God in hopes that he will forgive me for the ultimate sin I am about to commit against him and myself. “Amen,” I say in closure to the prayer as I slowly open my eyes and squeeze the trigger.

The sound of the pistol firing explodes through my eardrums just as an extremely sharp and searing hot pain erupted throughout the entirety of my skull.

I fall over to the floor, my vision bleeding red and fading fast to black. I can hear the sound of my own heartbeat slowing with each passing second in my ears. The scent of gunpowder and death fill my nostrils as I look to the gaping hole of the doorway and directly into the face of the walker than stood there watching me. Screw you, I think before I close my eyes and give myself up to the darkness.

Reviews

[TLK]

"I pull the trigger when I have the sights of the barrel slide aligned with the walker’s head and watch as the walker’s head snaps back with the bullet that had entered its eye and blew out of the back of its head."

This sentence is a bit too long, and therefore hard to read. Here's my version:
I pull the trigger when I have the sights settled on the walker's head. The bullet leaves my gun with the force of the explosion, throwing itself out of the barrel. Spinning, rifled, it enters the the walker's eye and blows out the back of its head.

I hope this helps.

[Rivers Pinder]

Yeah, I agree. Looking back on it now it is indeed. I wrote this about two years ago when I was first getting into writing. Thanks for the review bud.

[TLK]

The fact that I've taken time to try and help you improve shows that I think this has clear potential -- that you've said it's two years old makes me eager to read your newer stuff! Expect me to pop up elsewhere.