pandemic

just a little short story i decided to come up with. this story is one that's going to be updated when i have the time and feel like it, so enjoy the prologue for today.

            Hidhir looked hopefully out the doorway, fervently hoping no one would intercept him on his pharmaceutical run, and the volunteers that acted as runners had begun to quit, one by one, leaving the city on the goddamn ferries off the tiny island of Manhattan. His colleague, and friend, Timothy Hei clutched the .55 mm rim fire rifle at head height. The gun had been modified to nearly beyond recognition, the bore widened such that it fired rounds near the size of the military’s Standard Assault Weapon. There was a moan, around the corner, and a man stumbled around the corner. His pallor was grey, and the skin smelled of rot and too much blood. The pants were so caked with blood that they seemed to crack and bend only at the joints. I levelled the rifle and fired a single shot. The man’s head jerked back, and the moan was replaced with a high keening scream. Hidhir muttered curses under his breath, before raising the .45 colt, firing a single round into the infected man’s mouth.

 

            “Move fast!” I yelled.

 

            “Don’t need to tell me twice,” yelled Hidhir, and took off running, the bag on his back full of drugs. We ran to the jeep as a horde of infected people moaned and rushed around the corner. “Go! Go! Go!” he yelled, turning the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life in a satisfying purr. I still had my weapon trained on the infected, the weapon barked, as the rounds were discharged. A particularly fast infected charged the moving jeep. I fired the weapon once, the recoil pushing his shoulder horizontally into the seat, the bullet slicing through the infected’s cranium. Blood whistled out of the neat hole.

 

            Then, the swarm of infected people turned back and retreated, as sunlight flooded the street.

 

 

The door slammed open, as I shook the rust off the butt of the customized weapon. The apartment was several years old, and Hidhir had gotten it for a song from the previous owner. Pistol levelled, Hidhir advanced into the room. Though the infected didn’t like the sunlight, there was no guarantee that they hadn’t crept into the apartment in the middle of the night. There was a cry of surprise, and I had my rifle up and ready in a split second. Then, consciousness took over, and I realised that Hidhir had cried the word: survivors.

 

I rounded into the barrel of an ak47, the girl holding it looked like a Goth, and had the same deadbeat expression as the girl next to her, who had her desert eagle trained on Hidhir. I rolled my eyes, and whipped the butt of the rifle round, into the Goth girl’s head, and ducked sideways as a round whistled past my head. I could feel an abrasion line forming on my ear. Then, the second girl had her gun trained on me. I stopped, as a bullet splintered the woodwork just above my head.

 

“What did you do to Clarice?” she demanded. I held my hands up, and winced as the girl’s voice trembled. She was obviously at least a year younger than me, and she was afraid. Her voice trembled, and reached a nearly hysterical pitch. Then, without a sound, her eyes rolled into her head, and the place where her head had been was replaced with the silvery butt of Hidhir’s colt .45. I watched warily as the girl sank slowly to the ground.

PANDEMIC

Reviews

[Undying Glory]

nice work, really great job man. although you told me about this, it still comes as a little shock when you see one's name in a story. haha anyway great job

[Drake]

Nice vivid description, I'm looking forward to your full story.
And by the way, good choice of names!