The Plagued Chapter 2: I get a new alarm clock

Mini-skirts, Kesha Zombies, and Cliff Hangers? Lovely.

Ok, so no one likes to wake up in the morning, especially when it’s still dark out.  We can all agree on this right?  A long time ago, in a house far, far, away, I used to complain about the sound of my alarm as it shrieked in my ear every morning to wake up.  It made this annoying beeping noise, you know, like a car alarm on helium? That’s the sound.  I think I would have actually preferred that old alarm clock to the way I wake up now.

So you know what it’s like to wake up and see some dude (usually your father) right up in your face when you ignore that alarm clock I mentioned earlier?  Usually, he’s pretty bleary eyed; wearing some old t-shirt, and looks like his hair was attacked by a hurricane?  Yeah, ok, try waking up to some Plagued zombie chick staring over you looking at you like thanksgiving dinner.  Now, I know what you’re thinking- waking up to see a chick in my face?  Yeah, I can deal with that.  Wrong.  Plagued girls look like Kesha on a bad night.  Wild hair, week old makeup, pinched looking faces that make them look like they had their skin taped back?  Oh, don’t forget the drool and the smell.  Yup.  Good morning world!

I woke with a start to see this chick with her face pressed against the glass of the windshield from the other side of the car.  I’d been sleeping in the front seat, thinking that a car would make a pretty snazzy place to crash for the night.  So she comes banging on the front windshield trying to break the glass to get to me.  “Holy-“ I shouted, throwing myself into the back seat away from the chick.  That only seemed to piss her off more.  She punched her first through the glass and started pulling away at the shards, oblivious to the blood that dripped down her lacerated hand.

I looked around from something that I could use as a weapon.  Yeah, I know what you’re thinking- ‘You’ve been running around a zombie infested world for a year and haven’t invested in a chainsaw?’  Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.  They were all out at Home Depot.  I swear I’ll check the next Wal-Mart I can find.

I scrambled around in the backseat, until I managed to find a hardcover book.  May not be ideal, but it’ll have to do.  I threw it as hard as I could at the plagued chick as she finally managed to climb onto the front seats.  She wheeled back in pain as it hit her nose, breaking it instantly.  Now was my chance.  I reached for the handle and yanked the door open, hurtling myself out of the screaming metal deathtrap and into the pale dawn.

I’m a chicken.  No seriously, I’m just like those birds.  I’m white, I freak out over stupid s**t, and I will cluck angrily at people when they piss me off.  Oh, and I hate McDonalds.  See?  I’m a total chicken.  That’s why I’m running my butt off trying to get away from zombie girl rather than pulling a gun out of my pocket (which I don’t have).  Besides, I can’t shoot a girl.  I don’t care if she is completely insane and wants to eat me.

Seriously though, where do you run to when you’ve got an insane zombie chasing after you?  Plagued don’t get tired like normal humans.  They will chase you until they die from exhaustion or you manage to find a way to kill them.  Otherwise, you’re screwed.

Basically, I had one of two options- run forest, run!  Or, I find that group I saw the other night.  My sources are pointing me to the second option.  I tried to remember where I saw the light last night.  It had been a few hundred meters to the North (well, so I estimated).

It didn’t take long for the zombie chick to catch up to me.  They seriously defy physics with their speed and strength.  I kept telling myself, just keep going, just keep going, but I could feel my sides burning and my thighs protesting.  I was never a track runner in school.  No, I was that kid who sat in the back with the history book and a skateboard.  Not really a punk, not really a nerd, but something in between.  A geek?  That might be the right term.  I never paid attention to High School terminology.  Besides, since I was traveling between different countries throughout my educational career, the terminology never really mattered.  Usually was just ‘that new guy who hasn’t bothered to learn the language’.

The zombie chick launched herself at me, just barely missing my shoulder.  I thrust out an elbow, smacking her in the collar, which really didn’t do much except hurt my funny bone.  Things were looking pretty bad, when suddenly I heard someone shout, “Duck!” and I threw myself to the ground just before I heard a loud bang and felt something brush the top of my head, missing me by inches.

I felt something land on my back and thought for sure I was about to become this Plagued’s breakfast.  I laid there for a few moments, my eyes squeezed tight, just waiting for the pain, but none came.  I heard the sound of footsteps near my head and opened up one eye.  In front of me was a pair of very work out chucks, which led me to look up to see the owner of the chucks.  I got a pretty decent view of a normal human chick with a serious mini-skirt going and a ticked off look as she glanced down at me.

“Well?  Are you just going to lay there all day?  Get your butt moving, unless you want that thing to rot on you.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice seemed to have run away.  Great timing.  The girl was maybe a year older than me, with long, dark hair that she kept pulled back in a ponytail.  Her she had an olive complexion and a strong nose, matched with a stubborn mouth.  Her eyes were what drew my attention though.  They were a vibrant green mixed with flecks of gold.  I was in love.  It was like, her beauty just smacked me upside the head and left me dumbfounded.

“Oye, numbskull, are you going to move or do I have to shoot you?”

“I- right, sorry.”

I realized that I still had a body of a Plagued on my back and quickly pushed it off, rushing to stand up, brushing myself off as I did.  Now, I know what you’re thinking- dude, you just had a zombie laying on you, a dead zombie, and you’re hardly phased?  Oh no, I was scared shitless and completely out of my fricken mind at the fact something had just died, but I wasn’t about to show that to Green Eyes.  Oh no, it was much cooler to get violently sick right in front of her.

“Damn…seriously dude, just how old are you?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at me as I wiped my mouth and tried not too look too embarrassed even though my face was flaming.

“What?  Do you expect me to get used to having bodies flung across me?  Maybe that’s what you’re used to, but I’m-“

“Just shut up and follow me.”

I did shut up; for a moment anyways.  “Follow you where?”

“To the rest of the group.” She replied slowly, as though I were stupid, “Our leader will want to speak with you.”

“Why?” I asked, drawing out the word as I felt a twinge of apprehension run through me.

“Well duh.  He’ll obviously want to know why you’re intentionally leading Plagued to our camp.”

“It wasn’t intentional!  Well, I mean, I guess it was, but that was just because I needed helping killing it!” I replied defensively, throwing up my hands in a gesture of surrender.  

She turned, giving me a ‘you are so stupid’ look, before continuing to walk.

Off in the distance, I could see a small abandoned town.  I guessed that’s where Green Eyes and her group lived.  The place didn’t look very defendable, but I wasn’t going to say anything.  After all, I was the idiot who’d been using a car as my latest home.   As we approached the town, a group of people walked out of a rugged looking TARGET and started towards us.  They were all carrying guns or knives, and they all looked ready to friggen gut us at any moment.  Green Eyes, however, just waved to them, before looking back to me, arching one slender eyebrow, then rushing forward towards the rest of her people, ignoring me completely now.

I stopped walking.  I had reached the center of the town.  The people were now only a few dozen yards from me, watching me with distrustful eyes.  No wonder.  I probably looked pretty rough.  My sandy blonde hair had taken on a muddy color from lack of washing, and I’m sure my usually lightly tanned skin was a shade or two darker than usual from grime and dust.  My clothes…don’t even get me started on them.  My shirt used to be white, but it’s a dark russet now.  And my jeans?  They probably look the cleanest because well…they’re jeans.

I stood there, my heart pounding as I waited for some divine judgment to be passed.  Then from out of no where-

“Jude?  Is that you?”

Author's Note

Whatever you see wrong, TELL ME. This is a VERY rough draft. This is my first attempt at writing first person, so any mistakes you notice in the tense, please point out. Danke!