Tristan: "Hold on," I say, holding onto the inside of the helicopter as the infected outside shakes back and forth. "Son of a bitch," Chuck shouts as the shaking causes him to fall over. Tumbling over and over, he finally manages to pick himself up. "Hey! Knock it out!" Chuck pumps his shotgun and places it against the window of the helicopter. "No," I scream, rushing forward and slapping the gun out of the way. "We don't need arms in here swinging at us, trying to grab us!" "What do we need then," Chuck asks, falling into a seat and struggling to sit still. "An exit," I answer, looking around. "What we need is an exit." "As far as I can tell," Rebecca says, grabbing onto a seat. "There are two exits, and they're both blocked by hungry, hungry infected! Idea? Anyone?" "Don't look at me," Chuck says, "I didn't even want to come here in the first place, and Old Man Jenkins won't allow me to shoot my gun." "You shoot your gun," I say, "You open a door for them. I'll figure somet
Bailey:The infected seeing the blood from Rebecca's hand drives them even crazier and they start to shake the whole helicopter. As they shake it, they tip it over, and before I can do anything, I slide off."Crap," I yell, barely managing to hold on. One hand grabbing onto the other, I keep both of them wrapped around the helicopter's tail.Struggling to keep from falling, I look at Rebecca, Tristan, and even Chuck. Rebecca and Drifter are also hanging, trying their best not to fall."Hold on," Chuck says, pulling Drifter back on. "Ahh fuck. You're one heavy bastard.""Wait, wait, wait," Drifter says, hitting Chuck's back. "Stay still! Stay still!""What?"Without answering, Drifter fires at the infected once more. He shoots and kills about three infected that were grabbing Rebecca's foot. Now that there's nothing pulling her down, Rebecca can pull herself up."Way to go, hero," Chuck says, "You saved the damsel in distress.""I am going to kill Chuck for calling me that," Rebecca wh
Tristan: Slowly walking up to me, Chuck turns around and looks at Lincoln. "Damn," Chuck says, staring. Like me, he notices the revolver in Lincoln's hand. "His favorite gun," I say, pushing Chuck aside. Bending down, I pry the revolver from Lincoln's hand. Pushing the clip open, I look inside. "Careful with that," Chuck says, "There's a reason why that was Lincoln's favorite gun. It may look like just a simple revolver, but that gun had enough power to shoot through a dozen infected." "That explains Lincoln," I say, putting the clip back. "One bullet is missing." Chuck and I look back at Lincoln. "Thanks," I say before clearing my breath. "For everything." "Likewise," Chuck says. "I mean, you were an ass when we first met, and you were an ass a few hundred times afterward, but still, thanks for everything." Chuck and I nod our heads and leave. Walking back into the hallway, we see both Rebecca and Bailey standing side-by-side. "Hey," Rebecca says. "What was that? Is someone
Tristan: "This is bad," Chuck says before slamming the hood down. "Well, it's bad but it's not so bad." "Define not so bad," Bailey asks. "Well for starter," Chuck answers, "All our fixes yesterday almost completely drained the battery. There isn't much juice left in it." "Fuck," I say, shaking my head. "What does that mean? Another trip back to the mall?" "You blew up the helicopter," Rebecca says. "Whatever parts were left in there are gone." Once more, I shake my head. "Don't have a heart attack, grandpa," Chuck says. "I said almost. The battery is almost drained. Almost drained. I also said there isn't much juice left in it. Meaning there's a little bit left over. Not enough for the three of you to drive out of here but enough to jumpstart her if you give her a push." "Give her a push," I repeat. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Come on grandpa. Haven't you ever heard the phrase pop a clutch?" "Pop a what," Rebecca says. "If you call me grandpa one more time, I'l
Tristan: "Chuck," I scream as the infected bites down on his arm. Chuck screams as he shakes his arm but the infected wouldn't let go. Eyeing the car, Chuck grabs the infected by its head and slams it against the car over and over. After the fifth time, the infected opens its mouth and falls to the ground. "Chuck," I yell, running to see Chuck's arm. With a gun in my hand, I prepare to do it. I prepare to shoot Chuck. It sounds cruel. It sounds harsh, but it's better than being an infected. It's better than being a mindless zombie, only focusing on finding and eating. As I approach Chuck, I notice his wound. "What the hell," I say, not seeing any blood. Instead, I see something soft and white. "Relax," Chuck yells, seeing the gun in my hand. "And don't shoot me. At least not yet." "What the hell," I say again, pointing at what is supposed to be a bite mark. As I look closer, I realize what is going on. "Are you, are you wearing some sort of body armor?" "It's called padding," Ch
Bailey: "Will you knock it off," Rebecca yells from the front passenger's seat. "No," Tristan yells from the back seat. "Come on Bailey! Stop the car! You've been driving for hours! It's time to call it a night." I look out the window and see the moon floating high in the night sky. It accompanies by a bunch of stars around it and some dead trees beneath. "I'm not tired," I say. Tristan kicks the back of my seat and jerks me forward a bit. "Real mature." "I don't care if you're tired or not," Tristan says, "I care that it's nighttime. Don't you remember what I said before? Don't you remember anything? During the night, the infected are more active. They come out and hunt for food. Us!" "We're in a car," I say, "By the time any infected see us, we'll be five miles from them. You don't have to worry." "Of course, I have to worry," Tristan replies. "It doesn't matter if we're on foot or wheels, the infected will not stop us. They will see us and they will chase us until they are e
Tristan: As I turn left, I walk through a doorframe with no door and enter what looks like a storage room. There are a bunch of wooden shelves lined up against the walls but like the shelves outside, they're all empty. Besides the empty shelves and a push cart, there really isn't anything else in the storage room. I turn around and go the other way. Using my lighter as a guide, I walk past the first hallway and toward the right. The hallway leading to the right doesn't go very long. It ends after a few steps with two doors on opposite walls. I place my ears against both doors and prepare for any infected before opening. The door on the left turns out to be a small office with old paper scattered everywhere. There's a rusted chair and a broken desk in there but nothing more. I check the door on the right and it turns out to be a small restroom. I lower my gun and walk back to Rebecca who is still looking around the gas station. "Clear," I say as soon as she sees me. "How about you?
Rebecca: My eyes blink open as I yawn and stretch my arms. I want to rub my eyes but I forget I'm wearing a gas mask so I accidentally hit myself in the air. "Ahh," I say after hitting myself. I instead shake my head. "Fuck." Once fully awake, I look around and see Bailey still sleeping on the ground. She's sleeping near the extinguished fire, the fire nothing more than a pile of charcoal papers and a fainted trail of rising smoke. "Hey," I say as I push myself off the cold tiled floor. "Where the hell is Drifter?" I turn my head left and right but don't see the bastard anywhere. The only ones in the storage room are Bailey and me. "Hey Bailey," I say, dropping to my knee and shaking the girl. "Wake up. Come on. Get up." "What," Bailey says, pushing herself up. She yawns and clears her throat and also hit herself in the head. "What? What is going on? Is it infected?" Bailey grabs her baseball and looks