24-12-2010, 01:59 PM
@ all who read and stuff, da, m-am gândit să postez un fel de fan fic în engleză. Cu zombii, căci mi-a venit ideea de pe un forum pe engleză and such şi pur şi simplu nu m-am putut abţine din a nu scrie ceva despre morţii vii. Destul de ciudat. Oricum, sper că n-am greşeli and such stuff, şi sper să vă placă, chiar dacă e în engleză. Enjoy.
CHAPTER ONE
THE LAST OF THE LIVING
THE LAST OF THE LIVING
- 'Josh? Joshua – Josh!'
The voice was high, desperate, as the fire started to roll into the forest, engulfing everything near and everyone; there were screams and growls, snarls and weak winces who came from humans who were tired of running. He was staring at his bloodied hands – his brother didn't even manage to get out of the flames and grab him out of there. The screams continued and he looked around desperately, his breath and heart rhythm quickening.
The sky darkened; the clouds disappeared in an instant, and the moon shone, bright green, above the Hell below, the stars rolling lazily upwards in the night sky, balls of green and red dancing around the strange colored moon. The fire continued to fall; the huge boulders which slammed against the earth were covered in fire, and poisonous gas was spreading around everywhere, while the once beautiful trees caught the fire and lit up like giant candles.
The male with light colored hair was kicked around by the humans who tried to race past him; smoke was invading his throat, nose, and his eyes started to burn – he knew he had no more than a few minutes to get out of the madness, or risk to be killed within an instant by the fire, or forced to become a zombie by the hideous creatures which clung to him as if he was the last one standing up, sane. His brain was fuzzy and his breath heavy; the smoke was engulfing him slowly.
Joshua was grabbed and pulled back by the skeleton arms of the unamused zombie and he was kicked to the ground. His hand clenched around the nearest sharp thing and he suddenly swung it through the hair, cutting the zombie's head off, which fell a few feet away. He hauled himself up, blood clinging to his clothes and face, exactly like the dust did; he started running through the forest where the fire wasn't visible, not feeling anything but his own mind, the rest of his body going numb.
He was knocked over by screeching zombies and humans caught by those and he was crushed under the smoke and the fire which was slowly creating ashes out of zombies; the air was slowly running out for him, but he managed to kick at anything near, sending boulders in the zombies' open mouths, cutting limbs and heads with the sword covered in bright green blood. Flashes of red flesh and white dead eyes ran in front of his eyes as he stood up and ran again, without even glancing back.
The darkness of the forest beckoned him, seizing his mind away from the fire. He raced forward, his heart pounding against his ribcage, his eyes wide and shocked. His hand grabbed the lowest branch of a tree and he leaned against it for a few second, before continuing his run, insanity soon taking over his feelings. He needed to get out of the damn forest, before another cheesy stupid zombie would actually bite him and quickly kick him in the reign of the living dead.
Something grabbed his leg and he kicked back a sharp blow without looking, then gathered himself up after a few seconds and rocketed forward through the trees, his small form being scratched by the low branches, as in an addition to the burns and wounds he already had. He stumbled, but kept his balance somehow and raced forward, not hearing any screams or the sound of burning forest. Breathing heavily, he stopped, looked around and froze, his green eyes wide.
They were everywhere. Left, right, up, down, in the trees, underneath the fallen ones, around in the bushes. Humans, dead humans, with guns or ropes around their necks, with small kids next to them. Kids, adults, lovers holding their hands. Dead. In a world of hell, they chose to die by their own hand... and not to become zombies.
Bodies swung in their ropes slowly, their open mouths laughing, making fun of the blonde bloke standing between them all, between the corpse in the tree to his left and the hanged little girl to his right. Around him, the wind was ruffling slowly the bushes, and a small creek echoed in the almost empty clearing. He felt as the eyes of the dead were watching him closely... as their last screams were suddenly heard by him only, that the tree's shadow wasn't actually a shadow.
A scream made him flinch and lower himself near the covered in blood grass, and he crawled between dead bodies and skeletons, until his hands found the hard terrain and he curled next to the tree, staring at the sword. He didn't want to become a zombie, nor live forever killing those. He clenched his hand on the sword even tighter and murmured to himself. He couldn't. He won't die or kill himself. He just couldn't. He would fight, or die in this war.
Josh, shivering savagely, jumped over a fallen tree trunk and crouched at it's base, next to a small skeleton, his freezing hands clenched on the sword he grabbed when he was almost bitten. He heard steps and tensed, turning round to face the tree trunk. A moment of hesitation, then he shoot upwards, leaping at the shadow who just stepped into the clearing, swinging his hand with the sword which almost immediately collided with a gun.
The shadow kicked him back and shot in his direction, but had moved right before the bullet hit the trunk behind him; he rolled to the side, grasping the sword, then launched himself again, tackling the shadow with the gun. He was crushed underneath it for a few seconds, then managed to shove it's face in the dust and blood, dragging it's right arm backwards, making it unable to move. The shadow wiggled a few seconds, then stopped and snarled,
'JOSHUA, YOU INARTICULATED BUBBLE, LET. GO. OF. ME.'
'B-Blaine?'
'WHO DO YOU THINK IT IS, YOUR MOTHER?!'
Almost after a few fractions of a second, he let go of Blaine and jumped back, staring at him with an amazed expression – he had seen him die in that forest, engulfed and attacked by the zombies and he wasn't really ready to trust him after that – but it was him: the same dark, curly hair, the same hazel eyes and the same annoyed face and the same swears that echoed in the clearing a few times, as the dark haired younger boy clutched his right wrist with his left hand.
Josh suddenly wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly, almost suffocating the slightly- burned-not-really-real-brother of his. He continued to hug him like mad, breathing heavily, knowing he just escaped from the freaking zombies and... when Blaine clapped his back, he released him and stared at his bloodied face and broken nose, then grinned slightly. So he was the one who grabbed his leg. Oops. I'm dead.
He jumped slightly and grabbed Blaine's arm, dragging him back as he stared around, frowning. After a few seconds, Adam emerged from within the shadows, bloodied, his shirt ripped and part of his arms being bruised and heavily burned. Josh huffed and released his brother, sitting down on the tree trunk, breathing heavier than before as Adam approached them with a huge ass grin tugging at his face before fully spreading on it.
'Hello, ladies.'
'I ain't the one who screamed like a little girl, you dumb imbecile,' Josh murmured, but didn't manage to hide his amusement.
There was a crash, and Joshua found himself running away, right behind Adam, who was screaming for dear life. Behind them,the fire was extending in the forest fast, and the zombies were dragging themselves after them. The newer created ones ran faster than a normal human; the oldest ones barely managed to growl as they moved, arms or legs missing. Blaine dragged his gun out and swung around half, shooting the nearest running zombies and forcing them to fall as their heads were flung away by the force of the bullet exploding after a millisecond after entering their craniums.
Josh moved forward, dragging Blaine after him, when they saw it: the fort. Huge, cement fort spread in front of them, in the middle of the forest, doors open. They shoved themselves in and slammed the doors right in the zombie's face, as it closed by itself with some sort of odd mechanism, then the only sounds were the heavy breaths of the three and their hearts pounding at the same speed.
The doors cracked open a few seconds, then they closed, as the zombies dispersed after a few seconds, only to slam again. It wasn't effective. They – Josh, Adam, Blaine – were safe.
But what about the others?
The last of the world, dead, outside the fort.
A single thought was in their minds, and was soon voiced by Blaine, on a low, scared tone, a question which echoed in the entire room quickly:
'Are we... are we the last of the humans?'