\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/803285
Item Icon
Rated: 13+ · Book · Drama · #1955446
A young man learns to lead his friends and survivors in a world of the Undead (Draft)
#803285 added January 14, 2014 at 2:59pm
Restrictions: None
Chapter 62: Monica - Days Gone By
Chris. Fifteen. Was a volunteer counselor this summer. He showed a lot of enthusiasm in the role. Kid’s loved him, staff loved him. all around good guy. Monica was very interested in giving him a paid position next summer.

BANG

Angela. Older, Monica wasn’t sure of her exact age. She was the mother of a couple kids at the camp. She had come to pick them up the day the world changed, and she chose to stay here. She thought it was safer. She was kind, helpful. Did a lot of gardening. Dreamed of growing enough food in the camp greenhouse to feed the camp in the winter.

BANG

Ellen. Twenty. A real bitch, everyone always complained about her during the summers. She was one of the supervisors, and was a hard ass at that. Rude to staff, condescending to kids. Most people didn’t like her, but she learned to shut her mouth after that first night. After the barn.

BANG

Kyle. Eighteen. The camps personal “every guy”. Would jump up and do any job you asked him too do, no matter what it was. He was always willing to help out. Was a bit of a party guy too, and a prankster at that. He once convinced Andrew, Brandon, and Nick to help him dump a couple gallons of water all over Monica one hot day. He really stepped up after zero hour, took up a lot of guard duty because the boy scouts had taught him how to use a rifle.

BANG

Dominic. Five. It was his first summer at camp this year. He rode the bus in from Westchester, same one Andrew used to ride. He was always really nervous in the mornings. He’d cry, scream, kick. Monica heard a lot of complaints about him, but at the same time heard a lot of praise. Other than being nervous in the mornings, Dominic seemed to love camp during the day and was incredibly well behaved. The fact that he was adorable was only an added bonus. The first couple nights of the apocalypse had been really rough. Dominic was a constant wreck and was notably one of the toughest kids to deal with during that first week. It wasn’t uncommon to have kids scream, or cry, or breakdown during those first days, but they would eventually calm down. Dominic was constant, 24/7 with no end. Brad had handled him for the most part once he became to much for his counselor to deal with, Monica only heard about it in passing. She always felt bad for the kid, she couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

BANG

The blood flowed slowly out of the young boys forehead and trickled down his face. He fell backwards limply, resting as the newest addition of a heap of bodies lying in front of Monica. She stood there, unmoving, her expression cold yet angry. She held her handgun out in front of her, the gun trembling as she fought to contain the anger building up inside of her.

These people. Her people. Monsters, dead, gone. A quarter of her people were now lying motionless on the ground, covered in the blood of both their victims and their selves.

Monica lowered her trembling arm to her side, and walked forward. Towards the massacre taking place in front of her. The undead, her undead people, had pushed the remaining survivors back into their cabins. They were trapped like rats, with no way out without facing certain death. Heaps of dead bodies were sprawled on the ground, most being gnawed on by the Zombies. Flesh was being ripped from bone as blood splattered all over the cold, green grass. Mist filled the air as heat escaped from the warm bodies and entrails spread all over the ground.

Monica walked solemnly across the field. She didn’t make a sound and she didn’t look for anyone. She didn’t take a shot and she didn’t even aim her gun. She simply walked to the middle of the field and stood there. A group of undead rested just a few feet from her, devouring the body of a woman Monica couldn’t even identify. One of the undead, with blood covering it’s rotten decayed face, turned to look at Monica and growled, but didn’t do anything else. It was eating, not interested in a fight.

Monica looked away from the grisly sight and felt her hand tighten around the grip of her gun. Her arm slowly raised until her hand was level with her head. She felt the barrel of the gun press up against the side of her forehead, and then she stood their. Motionless. The world around her seemed to just turn off. It was just her standing there on that field. All she could see was darkness, and all she could hear was each breathe she took as the sound rang through her ears. She closed her eyes tight and felt her finger begin to slightly squeeze down on the trigger.

But then there was a force, she felt it push the gun down from her head and then rip it out of her hand. The world returned to her. The grass, the forest, the cabins, the lake, the undead, the blood, it all came rushing back to her senses. She heard the screams of the survivors, the gunshots, and the growls of the undead again. A wave of emotions hit her in a split second. Fear, Anger, Relief, Sadness, Happiness. They all hit her at once with a force so strong she almost felt her knees buckle as she tried to process what was happening. And then shot rang out behind her, and she saw an the back of the head of the walker that growled at her’s head explode.

She turned around, and there, standing just behind her, looking at her with one of the most determined faces she’d seen in a long time, was none other than Andrew. He held her gun in his left hand and continued to look at her as his group and Annaliese swarmed around him, guns drawn and firing at the hordes in the fields and at the cabins. Andrew took one look at the gun, then looked back at Monica and simply said, “Not now.”
© Copyright 2014 BreakingDead (UN: breakingdead at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
BreakingDead has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/803285