Rock and a Hard Place Seven- The Hitchhiker

You would have to be familiar with the TV show in order to understand the ending. Still please enjoy.

Rock and a Hard Place Seven

The Hitchhiker

            Tasha Knight had been walking for nearly five days straight. She had been unable to find a working car or truck. Her foraged two-way radio went silent only two days ago. She had been communicating with a group of survivors holed up in a church in town; they said they had supplies and protection from the walkers, sounded like salvation to her. At least she wasn’t completely alone; she picked up a male hitchhiker on the road.

            His name is Carter and he said he’s been walking this lone road for more than a week. He had meager supplies but he was willing to share with her. Tasha had been burned before; a young couple weeks ago stole all her collected supplies while she was sleeping. She had been pissed but still had hope that there was still good in mankind. Tasha always found herself quoting The Diary of Anne Frank lately. It was one of her favorite novels and seemed to apply to her current situation.

            “So you think they have enough food and water there, Tasha?” Carter spoke, his voice gruff from her waking him so early. She knew they had to keep moving. She spotted a large herd moving North and she didn’t want to get surrounded.

            “Well, he said they had enough supplies and that any survivor that could hear their message should make their way there.” Tasha replied.

            “I’m just a little leery of those with their hand out in supposed friendship. You should be too, remember Bonny and Clyde?” Carter was referring to the couple that stole her supplies. Come to think of it, Tasha couldn’t even remember their real names, so Bonny and Clyde would have to do.

            “Yes, Carter, I remember. It took me weeks to gather that much food. Even still, we can’t just give up on all of mankind because of a few desperate people. There’s not many of us left; and that’s all they were….desperate.”

            “And what does that make us?” Carter had a good point. Will there be a time where Tasha would steal from someone? The world is in a state now that stealing someone else’s provisions especially weapons will lead to their deaths. Without food, water, or guns walkers will surely make a meal out of them. Tasha hoped she would never be faced with that decision.

            “That makes us…human.” They walked in silence for two hours before stopping for rest at an abandoned gas station. Carter checked around back while Tasha took the front entrance to make sure it was clear of walkers. Sitting against an empty rack, Tasha took stock of their supplies. They were dwindling fast and with nothing else between them and the small town that housed the church, they needed to get there fast if they were going to survive.

            Tasha could already feel the effects of little food; she didn’t move as quickly and her muscles strained at every little task. Carter, at least, seemed to be holding up. They shared a meal and started a small fire on the floor to keep the cool afternoon at bay.

            “We’ll rest for an hour then get back on the road.” Tasha let her heavy eyelids close as if gravity itself targeted them specifically. In the back of her mind, she wondered if Carter would still be there when she opened them. Her faith in humanity shaken but not broke; she still trusted that he would be there.

            She awoke with a start; dreaming of when the outbreak first occurred and the confusion afterwards. The campfire was out and Carter was gone. Tasha still had her pack because she slept with it on her back, a habit she quickly developed.

            “Carter?” She asked the empty air.

            “Here; I found a stream nearby and filled up our canteens.” Tasha felt a rush of relief that shocked her. She had been alone but being with another human being sharing in this terrible situation made her feel…safe. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes and she quickly turned to hide it. “Should we get going? We’ve been here for two hours. I let you sleep; you looked like you could use it.” He quickly explained when Tasha looked at him.

            “Thanks.” She allowed herself to smile faintly. “We should get going.” The pair walked for miles, the church in town never seeming to get closer to them. They would check abandoned cars on the side of the road but pickings were slim. There was a small truck ahead that Carter was peering into. He broke the glass and seemed to get excited.

            “Tasha, do you still have that Swiss Army knife? This truck has a little gas left; maybe I can get it started.” Tasha ran to him and produced the knife with its many different gadgets. Her hopes soared. With a truck, they may be able to get as far as the town, depending on the gas. After some fiddling, the engine roared to life.

            “Here, give me your pack.” Carter threw her pack into the empty truck bed and Tasha made her way around the passenger side only to see the truck speed off.

            “Hey!” Carter never looked back. Tasha stood there and watched the truck slowly disappear over the horizon. Her body was numb and her mind blank. If a herd of walkers came up behind her, she wouldn’t even notice them. She may even welcome them. Tears silently fell from her eyes. She felt foolish, naïve, and worse…defeated. She struggled so hard to stay alive but for what? Only to be taken for a fool not once but twice?

            The thought of giving up was substantial in that moment. Tasha started to feel like there was no point anymore. Perhaps the good of mankind died when the initial outbreak began. And still, Tasha found her feet moving forward; down that lonely stretch of road towards the church. She had nothing now, no food, no water, no shelter, and no weapons. It would be only a matter of time before the inevitable.

            Tasha didn’t give up though. In a matter of four days, she found herself walking into the church and was met by a Priest. Eight others were there with enough food and water for them all. She had lost faith, but the Priest helped her to find it again. She didn’t see Carter there and she never would. Tasha didn’t know it, but Carter got lost and took the wrong road. His truck broke down and he ended up back on foot. He would soon try to flag down a car with a man, a boy, and a black woman in it.

            He would yell for their help, they would not listen but drive off leaving him to die on the side of the road when a herd passed through. The pack the group would return and pick up would be Tasha’s.

Rock and a Hard Place Six- The Favor

I love stories with a twist ending. A continuation of the short story fan fiction based on the Walking Dead.

Rock and a Hard Place Six

The Favor

            Rachel Kirkman has never considered herself strong or smart. Growing up in Binford North Dakota, the second youngest girl of five, she has had to live in the shadow of her sisters’ greatness all her life. At 28, Rachel hadn’t accomplished much. She managed to graduate from college but barely with a degree in art studies. Her sister, Meredith was kind enough to tell her the degree was useless and she was right. After years of painting, drawing, and struggling to get her work in any kind of gallery, Rachel was unsuccessful as an artist or as Meredith would put it, a failure.

            Rachel couldn’t afford to live on her own and was forced to move back in with her parents who were not too happy to have her. Her father would mumble how all that money for college was a waste, all Rachel could do was hold her head down and go to her room.

            The local news has been filling with more reports of people acting strangely. Rachel’s sisters were home for the week to celebrate her mom’s birthday and had been out shopping when a disturbance occurred in the mall. Meredith spoke of having to go to the hospital after a crazy man in the mall bit her.

            “Can you believe it? Some jerk off took a bite out of me. I hope I don’t need rabies shots. Tasha, you’re a doctor, what do you think?” Meredith asked.

            “The wound has been dressed and all the tests were negative, you’ll be fine.” Tasha had recently finished her residency at the local hospital. They didn’t direct their conversation to Rachael but instead spoke as if she wasn’t there. Rachael doesn’t think they mean to be mean to her, but it was hard to think otherwise with their behavior. Rather them listen to them regal their tale, Rachael quietly walked upstairs to her room. She escaped back into her book, a thriller about zombies and the end of the world.           

            A loud bang on the front door disturbed her and she heard her father yell. What the hell was going on? Rachael heard a struggle then a shot gun blast. Her father keeps the gun in the hall closet in case of intruders and the thunderous blast brought Rachael downstairs to see her neighbor, Charles Knight, lying face down in a pool of blood. Her sisters and mother where screaming that he tried to eat her father.

            Dad was leaning against the wall holding the remains of his arm that looked more like shredded meat than an elbow. Her mother held the shot gun and a shocked expression. Rachael couldn’t speak; she was instead looking out the front door at the horror that was unfolding. The streets were filled with people lumbering from house to house. There were no sirens, no police cars, and no signs of containment. Rachael recognized the shambling walk, the incoherent moans, the pale dead flesh and coagulated injuries as soon as she saw it. She was obsessed with zombie paraphernalia from books, to movies, to television shows. Rachael may not be a doctor, but she diagnosed this problem quickly and knew how to treat it.

            She quietly closed the front door and spoke to her family.

            “Dad is going to die and then he’s going to come back and kill us all. We need to take care of him. Meredith, you’ve been bit, you too will die.” Rachael didn’t mean to sound so cold but it was the truth. She took the shot gun out of her mom’s slack hand and methodically refilled the spent cartridge.

            “What the hell are you talking about? We’re fine; we just need to get dad to the hospital.” Meredith was crying, the first time Rachael had seen her shed a tear. Meredith walked over to their trembling father. “Please, help me.” She pleaded.

            “I am.” Rachael pointed the shotgun at Meredith’s head and pulled the trigger. The blast was loud in the close confines of the formal living room and red matter painted the beige wall. Rachael, being an artist, could appreciate the art of the spray. She shifted the smoking muzzle to her father’s head and pulled the trigger; the second blast was not as deafening.

            Silent filled the house. No one could speak. Rachael resigned herself; she did what she had to do. There was no time to debate or explain. Slowly, Rachael looked at her three remaining sisters and her mother. She trained her eyes to focus on signs of injuries. She knew that Meredith was bit at the mall, Rachael could now see wrapped bandages around her sisters’ and mother’s hands. They must have tried to fight the infected man off Meredith unaware that they were sealing their fates.

            They must have seen the knowing look in Rachael’s eyes as she reloaded the shotgun. They screamed at her to stop; that what she was doing was murder.

            “We’re not infected! We’re not infected! You’re crazy! Rachael please, please stop!” Tasha took out her phone to dial 911, Rachael fired on her before she could punch send. It wouldn’t do any good regardless. Jen tried to run for the back door with her mom, Rachael stopped them with a gunshot to the back. They both flew forward landing in the kitchen.

            Carly, the youngest, just stood there in the middle of the carnage. Out of all the sisters, Carly was the one Rachael was most close too. Rachael would have hesitated if not for the wound on Carly’s hand. She had to die or she’ll turn. She was doing them all a favor and can only hope that should she get bit, someone would do the same for her.

            Rachael calmly walked to Carly who kneeled down on the hard wood floor. She knew there was no point in running. Silent tears ran down her face to her trembling body. Rachael didn’t want to see, but pointed the shotgun at Carly’s head and let loose the shell. The sound of the thud confirmed Carly’s lifeless body hitting the floor.

            Strangely enough, no tears fell from Rachael. This was not something she wanted to do but had to do. Perhaps she should feel something, but she didn’t. There was a crash at the front door and Rachael expected more zombies to pour in after all the shot gun blasts but oddly enough two police officers ran into the living room; a look of abhorrence on their faces. Rachael blacked out.

            “Has she said why she did it, Dr. Foster?” A man in a suit spoke while watching Rachael through a padded door.

            “She just keeps saying that she had to do it. She claims they were infected and would turn into zombies if she didn’t kill them. Apparently, Ms. Kirkman, has been obsessed with anything zombie related.” Dr. Foster spoke clinically.

            “Damn, seven murders. She calmly just killed her entire family because she thought they were zombies? She even shot the neighbor on the front porch. That’s crazy.” Suit man exclaimed.

            “Yes, that’s why she’s here instead of on death row. Truthfully, I think she really does believe she was doing her family a favor by killing them. She really does believe the world has ended.” Dr. Foster sighed.

            “Unfortunately, her world has ended. She’ll never get out of this hospital.” Suit man left the padded room containing the convicted killer. He walked down the long hallway with just the lonesome sound of his soles echoing in the silence. He went back to his office to start his report and would soon go home to his wife in the real world that did not end.

Rock and a Hard Place Five- Lament

This is one of my favorites short story based on the show The Walking Dead. This is the thought process of an unknown male. Please enjoy.

Rock and a Hard Place Five

Lament

            Sitting here wondering how did it all come to this. Warm fire in the hearth, lukewarm whiskey in my hand; the amber liquid is less than half full. I gulped down most of it in one swallow. I wanted to savor the burn down my throat, lets me know I’m still alive.

            For how long, though? Shit. The blood from my hand dripped to the floor; I watched the splatter on the white carpet that I’m sure some OCD filled wife kept meticulously clean. Sorry Mrs. Homeowner, but white carpet? Really?

            I had been staying in this big empty house since the outbreak, I found a well-stocked pantry and a weapons cache in the basement. Ha, I couldn’t believe my luck. I was just intending to rob the place, not set up residence. Times had been hard, no work; not for a felon at least. Since I got out, I tried to stay on the up and up, but with the wife nagging about bills and groceries, and shit like that, hell, I had to get money somewhere.

            She’s dead though, the wife, and Shelly; my little girl. Can’t say I’m too sad about the wife, I guess that some harsh shit to say but she was cheating on me anyway. But Shelly…my daughter. I tried to get back to them, to lead them to the safety of this mini mansion but I was too late. They were torn apart; there was nothing I could do. I hurried back here and here is where I stayed. I ignored what was going on out there, people screaming, yelling for help. How could I help them when I couldn’t even save my own? Nah, I drank to dull the screams until finally, one day, they just stopped. Only the dead walked out there now.

            Then I saw Shelly wandering out there. Her brunette head bobbed up and down, she always did that when she walked. She would say, “Daddy, when fairies not flying, they walking on their toes. I wanna walk like that. I wanna fly, daddy.” But that wasn’t Shelly, her face was ripped, her eyes pale, and one arm was missing. No, that wasn’t Shelly but still….Fuck.

            What kind of a God would let this happen? I have never really been much for prayer, I doubt God listens. But in that moment, I prayed that things were different. That my Shelly was alive and I had another chance to be the father she deserves. Maybe she was different. Maybe she wasn’t the mindless zombie the others were.

            Why her and not me? I let the tears roll down my face freely; no one was here to see anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever lay eyes on a living person again.

            I was dumb to try and coax the thing that was my daughter to the house. I was an idiot to try to tie her up with a belt. I was a moron for trying to talk to her. I thought I could handle her. I just had to make sure. She bit me and sealed my fate. Dumb. If I get a headstone it will simply say, “Lazy Husband, Bad Father, and One Dumb Fuck.”. Now, I’ll just sit here, drink this liquor, and think of all the things I should have done differently. I pushed Shelly in a closet. I just couldn’t bring myself to smash her skull in.

            There was no point in waiting any longer. I took the remainder of the whiskey and poured it over my head. It stung my eyes. I grabbed the bottle and poured its contents around the room. I reached for my lighter and threw it against the wall.

 

 

Flames ate at the walls as if the fire was alive. I welcomed the heat as I sat back down and waited for the fire to take me. The thing that was Shelly banged on the closet door. Soon, my little girl, soon. Please, to whatever God that was still taking request, take me to my daughter.

 

 

Rock and a Hard Place Four- Letter from Prisoner 34438

A continuation of the short story fan fiction from The Walking Dead.

Rock and Hard Place Four

Letter from Prisoner 34438:

            No one will probably find this. I don’t know why I’m even writing it but…I don’t know what else to do. I shouldn’t be here. It was a petty charge but I didn’t get a slap on the wrist like most. I guess that’s everyone’s story, huh? Now I’m here, West Georgia Correctional, some call it Hell, but now….now it really is Hell.

            I don’t exactly how it started but some inmates who were on a work detail came in with some bullshit story of someone biting one of them. Two were taken to the infirmary for treatment while Josh, my cell mate, told me the story of some woman with strange eyes who bit him on the hand and Carlos on the face. Carlos was in treatment, Josh waited in the cell. That was when all hell started breaking loose.

            I heard screams and gunshots from down the hall. People ran, inmates and guards, I didn’t know from what. Soon the alarm sounded. Normally it would sound for a riot and prisoners were instructed to hit the ground, but not this time. Everybody who was outside their cells ran in all directions. Somewhere in the crowd there were moans. I saw Carlos through my cell bars. His face was ripped half off, he was shot in the chest but he was still upright. He was still walking.

            People were eating people. What the hell? I felt a little safer in my cell but I was cut off. A guard hurried past and I yelled to him, please let me out. Let us out. He looked at me, worry on his face, terror in his eyes and a gun in his hands.

            “I don’t have the key.” He calmly told me. Then he raised his weapon to my head. No! I yelled, but he never fired. Carlos and other inmates took him down. They ripped his arm off and chewed his face. I’ll never forget his screams and the sound of wet flesh being torn. Makes my stomach turn just thinking about it.

            I was trapped. I watched as they finished devouring him. Most had wondered off while Carlos was trying to reach me through the bars. That was not Carlos, his eyes were different. Behind him I saw a group of inmates band together, they were fighting off the others. A guard with a shot gun was leading them, but leading them where.

            “Please,” I yelled to them, “Please don’t leave us.” Bastards, they left us there. They left us. After a while, the fallen guard began to move. Then he sat up, he was missing an arm and an eye but he got to his feet and shuffled away. Fuck, it’s the bites. Carlos was bit, the guard was bit, and Josh…was bit.

            I looked at him, sitting there worried on the cot. Not only was I trapped, I was trapped with one of them. Josh had never given me problems before, in fact, he’s one of the few inmates I called friend in here but now…?

            I waited until he fell asleep after a long day of watching people being eaten from behind locked bars. I took him by surprise and threw him to the ground; I rammed my booted foot on his head over and over until only bits and pieces remained. I unleashed my anger on him, anger for being here, anger for being left here. No one deserves that. Not even a criminal.

            It’s been 3 weeks since that day. All my water from the toilet is gone, I haven’t had any food for 4 days, and the smell of decomposing flesh is pungent. My vision blurs and my stomach has become distended. I’m going to die here. No one is going to save me. That first day I prayed to whatever God that would listen, to please take me now. But I was left in hell and I fear that when I finally do die, the real Hell will begin.

            I just wanted someone to know I was here. I existed. I may not have made all the right choices in life but at least I made them. Prisoner 34438, Cell Block C, petty thief, fatherless son, avid sneaker collector, and a man who made mistakes but didn’t get a second chance. I was here.

Rock and a Hard Place Three- I Surrender

A continuation of the short story fan fiction based on the Walking Dead tv show.

Rock and a Hard Place Three

I Surrender

            So hungry, I thought as my stomach growled again in the dead of night. The crisp early winter air bit at my face and I pulled the hood closer. I’ve been hiding for two days from a huge horde of zombies passing through a once quaint little town. They had been meandering outside and I couldn’t risk making a sound to draw their attention. I tried not to think about how hungry I was. I ate my last package of Ramen noodles two days ago without the pleasure of boiling it in water. I just ate it right out of the package, it was still satisfying.

            No sleep tonight. I had tried to get around the horde before I could get blocked into this building, I didn’t want to get surrounded. But that’s just what happened, I wasn’t fast enough. Must be the lack of food. Now as the early morning dawn broke over the horizon, I looked out the small upstairs window to see the horde still milling in the same area. Why aren’t they moving on? Shit!

            I couldn’t stay here much longer, not without food and a dwindling water supply. Just then, a single shot rang out to the East followed by a distressed cry, it almost didn’t sound human. The cry soon stopped with another gunshot then silence again. Sounds like someone’s end but an opportunity for me, the horde is beginning to move off towards the sound. Here’s my opening.

            Everything I owned was still strapped to my back; I made it a habit never to take it off. I unsheathed my machete and made my way to the back door. All clear. Staying low to the ground I smoothly made my way to the woods. It was always dangerous to run in the woods, every branch you step on seems to bring them out and you run the risk of tripping over roots; spraining an ankle was a death sentence here.

            Keeping the horde to my left, I followed to where the gunshot originated. It must seem foolhardy going towards a group of walking dead, but I couldn’t pass up a chance at collecting weapons. Guns were very few and far between; guns with bullets even more so. All I had now was a machete and a pocket knife, having a gun with even just one bullet would be helpful.

            The horde surrounded a small form in a debris filled clearing. From the looks of it, this was someone’s campsite and that someone now lay in the center of the feeding frenzy. In between arms and legs and teeth, I saw the gleam of the handgun. Perhaps I can wait them out and collect the gun later and maybe there were more supplies in the camp I can forage. A newfound confidence came to me, I even smiled a little. It’s been a long time since I thought I was any steps ahead of this madness.

            It didn’t take long for the horde to finish off the carcass and begin to move off. Only bones and ripped flesh was left. After the all clear, I carefully made my way to the center of the red mass. The gun should be underneath and the thought of picking through it was unsettling but necessary.

            The flesh didn’t even have time to cool, congealed blood and matter squished through my fingers as I gripped the gun; elated I pulled it out and stepped back when a blinding pain radiated from my right ankle. Hearing a loud snap of metal meeting metal, the clamp of a trap now surrounded my foot. I couldn’t hold back the scream that let loose from my lungs.

            Immediately, I reached down to try and pull at the trap. My lower leg seemed to disappear into it; metal met bone and even if I did get my foot out it would useless. My scream attracted the same horde back to another feast and there seemed to be more this time.

            Dead eyes and throaty moans met me as they advanced. My machete would not be enough to save me, I could take down one or two but being unable to twist around, one of the bastards will still get me. The thought of being eaten alive was unbearable. I looked down at the eaten corpses and now noticed the same trap around her leg; it finally hit me.

            The first bullet was an attempt to fight back, the second bullet was surrender.

            The gun seemed to weigh more in my hand and heavy on my mind. As the throng came closer and the smell of death invaded my nose I had one final thought. Please God, let there be just one more bullet.

Rock and a Hard Place Two- Crazy Willy

A continuation of the short story fan fiction.

Rock and a Hard Place Two

Crazy Willy

            People always said William was crazy. He talked about the end of the world often and to anyone who would listen. He fully believed that in our lifetime the world of man would take a climatic shift and reach an extinction level event. William even prepared for years for this eventuality. He built a bunker and stocked it fully with food, water, weapons, and various other supplies enough to last him a lifetime.

            William didn’t have a family and lived on disability since his injury during a term of service in the military. It was going to be him against the world. People thought he was crazy; ‘Crazy Willy’ they called him. Not so crazy after all, William thought. The town that once bustled with people going about their daily errands now stood quiet. The schools that squeezed 40 kids to a classroom were noiseless and empty. He told them, he tried to tell them this day was coming and no one would listen. Now the dead are walking and eating the living; mankind’s world has ended and it’s survival of the fittest.

            William wasn’t worried as he sat in his bunker to polish his rifle.  He could stay down here for years but from time to time to have a little fun he would go topside for some target practice. He enjoyed shooting the heads of zombies and seeing the spray. Most were members of the town that ostracized him; he shot Derrick Kline just the other day. That prick conned him out of $200 so he blew what was left of his brains out.

            A tapping sound came from the hatch and made William stop. There were others that tried to get in the shelter. They knew where it was and that he had it stocked but William didn’t take any chances. He didn’t want to share his treasure with them, they should have listened.

            “Willy? Please, help me.” A timid cry followed the taps. “Please it’s Brenda.” Brenda? Oh yes, the town hoe. Brenda slept with anything with a pulse and a penis, except for William that is. She laughed at him when he asked her out and he didn’t sympathize with her now. Although William was amazed she lasted this long, he was sure she’d be the first to get bit.

            William thought more through the pleas from the hatch. He could spend his time alone and laughing at all humanity or he can invite her in for another distraction. She is attractive and she did tell William that she wouldn’t have sex with him unless he was the last man on Earth. Humm, seems pretty fitting that she should knock on his door now.

            With a smile, he opened the hatch and invited her down. She was dirty and her clothes were tattered but she was still attractive.

            “Are ya bit?” He asked

            “No, please, they’re coming.” He closed the hatch and sealed it. He gave her food and water and told her she could wash up being that he had a generator and hot water. She was grateful and he waited until later to proposition her. She would say yes.

            After a nap, William went in to wake her. He shrugged her shoulder but she wouldn’t move. “Brenda, get up. It’s time to pay for room and board.” He flipped her to her back, a common position for her anyways and looked into her once beautiful face as she sat up and sank her teeth in William’s cheek.

            He screamed out in pain as he shoved her face away from him only to have her bite down on his fingers severing them from his hand. He fought his way back to the hatch reaching up he couldn’t grip the handle and the lovely Brenda began to gnaw on his legs.

            Crazy Willy was being eaten alive. All this preparing for the apocalypse doesn’t really work when you invite the plague into your shelter. Crazy Willy really was crazy.

Rock and a Hard Place One "Nice Guys Finish First"

Rock and a Hard Place is a collection of short stories that are based in the universe of the TV show The Walking Dead, otherwise known as a fan fiction. Characters from the show may be mentioned or based off of however the works are entirely my creation. Warning: there may be language or situations that may be unsuitable for younger readers. All others please enjoy:

Rock and a Hard Place One

Nice Guys Finish First

            Tyra lost everything. A horde took out the remaining members of her group, not that there were many of them to begin with. A teacher of history, a legal secretary, a former drug addict, and a porn star. Not a stellar survival group. And then there was Tyra, a high school student who couldn’t get a high SAT score if she cheated. As if any of that mattered now.

            The world she knew full of high school crushes, sneaking alcohol, and texting on her cell phone were long gone. All that was left was the dead. Funny that Tyra never liked school but managed to find her way back there.

            In the initial confusing when you couldn’t tell who was infected and who wasn’t, she never made it back home to her mom and younger brother. Most likely they were dead anyway. That very morning Tyra argued with her mom about going to a party that Saturday night. Todd Lewis was going to be there and she desperately wanted him to notice how short her skirt was.

            Her mom didn’t allow her to go but Tyra planned on going anyhow, only the world didn’t make it to Saturday night. Now instead of not studying for an algebra exam, Tyra was hiding in the top floor of Sunset Valley High School, the former study lab if she remembered correctly. Tyra didn’t really like the people she ended up with but at least they were alive. Seeing them all fall to a horde was hard to process and she feared she wouldn’t make it without someone, anyone.

            “Tyra Harris?” Just not Peter Kline, if that was the voice she just heard. She turned to face him and saw that is was Peter Kline, nerdy, book smart, asthmatic, always had a nosebleed Peter Kline. Geez.

            “Peter? Is that you?” She asked.

            “Yeah, well imagine my surprise when I saw in the stairwell. I was like, wow, Tyra here huh?” The end of the world didn’t do him any favors. Peter has always had a crush on Tyra and she knew, she just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Now she’s going to be stuck here with him, she started to long for the emptiness of no one again.

            Hours later and many stories after Peter finally stopped talking to take a breather. Tyra knew every detail that happened to him from the walkers killing his folks to ending up here and even though it was in gruesome detail it didn’t inspire sympathy in Tyra. She was just waiting for him to shut the hell up. Everyone still alive had a sob story, the world ended; it doesn’t mean I have to care. Tyra thought as she absentmindedly played with her nails.

            “We should probably scout around before we lose the daylight, huh?” Peter asked, he knew she wasn’t listening. She didn’t even consider him alive at school before all this anyways, not even the end of the world could change that. Pity.

            The two walked in silence to the stairwell and walked down two flights of stairs but stopped when they heard moans from beneath them.

            “What’s that?” Tyra grabbed his arm.

            “It’s only walkers trapped in the bottom stairwell, see?” Peter shined he light down and showed at least a dozen walkers grouped at the bottom. A metal caged door used to prevent students from accessing the basement held them at bay.

            Peter smiled at his pets, they were the only ones that really kept him company while he was here. His mother was down there and so was..

            “Todd Lewis.” Peter said out loud.

            “Huh?” Tyra asked.

            “He’s down there. We both took up shelter here only he was being a real dick so I helped him over.” Peter grabbed Tyra by the lower legs and flipped her over the edge. She screamed all the way down but didn’t die right away.  She landed on the zombie horde who began to rip her apart including Todd Lewis. Peter didn’t want to spend the apocalypse with her anyways. If she wasn’t such a bitch, he may have changed his mind.