User blog:Ireithien/The Walking Jed - Chapter 5



Chapter 5

The group decided that it was in everyone's best interests to head south, and try to escape the United States. Chances are that the apocalypse, having only started today, would not have spread to other parts of the world as of yet... assuming it started in the US. They were willing to take the chance.

Malc had expressed an interest in the north, trying to freeze out the walking dead in the cold climates upstairs. Theophilus was highly against this idea, and Ire wasn't too eager to go north... or south, for that matter.

Having started outside of Kansas City, it was roughly two days later when the group stopped in Texas to restock and reload. They had stopped the van just outside of what seemed like an abandoned shopping mall, though, Sir Sergeant Cropbarrel had duly reminded them, "one could never tell."

"Alright then," began Ire, "this mall is likely to have some form of useful supplies, but it's also liable to be extremely dangerous."

Flux snorted. "Yeah, it's just gonna be a cakewalk. Y'know, what with the zombie apocalypse and all."

Ignoring him, Ire continued. "I hate to split us up, but we'll cover more ground. I don't imagine the van will have any issues, seeing as nobody seems to be here, besides us... so, we'll all go in. Malc and I will go to the second floor, Flux will stay down here, bottom level. If you see anything you can't handle, fire your gun, scream, have a dance party, whatever you want to do that will alert the others."

"Good that," said Malc, grabbing his gun.

Flux hoisted his shotgun, then placed it back in the van.

"Silence is golden," said Flux, with a grin. He pulled a crossbow out of his backpack, and fitted a bolt to it. "Won't alert walkers." He strode off towards the mall.

As he walked, his pant leg was blown up by the wind, revealing a long, thin scar that snaked down his leg. The cloth quickly fell again, concealing the old wound... but not before Ire and Malc saw it.

Ire cautiously walked down the twisting hallway, holding his pistol in front of him.

"What do you think of Cropbarrel? Can we trust him?" ventured Malc.

"I think we can," started Ire, slowly. "He seems experienced. Very practical. Definitely odd. But he handles himself well." He paused, signaling with his hand for Malc to stop: a sound, like shuffling footsteps.

Malc put his finger to his lips and took the lead, Ire watching his back.

The duo stopped as Malc motioned towards a pushed-in, scarred door. Blood spattered the handle and the frame, creating a dilapidated appearance. Malc looked at Ire, then kicked the door open. It fell to the ground.

"Strong door," muttered Malc. He stepped inside the room, rifle held high.

Reaching into his pocket, he fished out his small flashlight and flicked it on. The room illuminated in a gray light, revealing grimy gray walls. Random blood spatters were sprinkled here and there, like a giant cut his finger in the room.

Malc pointed at the other end of the room, into an open closet. He shone his flashlight on the sight.

What Ire saw made his heart freeze.

A walker sat in the closet, cowering. Blood leaked from its teeth, as it gnawed the remnants of a meal. Its hair was wet and hung in its eyes. The skin carried the stench of death.

Malc grabbed Ire's pistol and, without further consideration, shot the creature in the head.

Its twisted body fell to the ground, convulsed, then stopped. Malc crouched and looked close at the corpse.

"It was eating its... leg."

Malc kicked the walker over, revealing a half-body: there was nothing from the waist down. The walker had literally devoured itself out of hunger.

Ire shivered, then felt his stomach twist. He turned and vomited onto the floor.

"You done emptying the contents of your stomach onto the ground? Let's move on."

Just then, a yell came from downstairs, echoing across the empty storage room.

"Come on, y'all! Found somethin' you may want to see," came the booming voice of Theophilus Cropbarrel.