Headache |
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An entry into the January 2008 Twilight Creations contest by Jon Cox
As I let out a long yawn, a familiar pain began to swell in my temple. I rolled off of the dusty couch, mumbling angrily as I stood and tried to collect my thoughts. I didn't even scout this place out when I got here. The couch just looked so comfortable, and I was so tired. Though it had been much needed rest, I knew it was a terrible mistake.
Claustrophobia swept over me. My eyes darted back and forth, ears straining in the silence. I held my breath. My heartbeat thundered in my eardrums, worsening the pain in my skull with each pulse. Between the deafening beats I could hear it, labored and unnatural breathing, coming from somewhere in the store.
Kneeling, I gripped the handle of my fire axe tightly, and grabbed a nearby satchel pack. There was only one, it seemed, a single zombie hidden in the shadows. Clutching the axe helped assuage my fear, but I knew I couldn't risk making even a slight miscalculation of their numbers. I took a step toward the door.
My eyes stayed fixed on the direction of the wheezing. Not watching where I was going, I nearly bumped into the second zombie. He had been waiting, quietly. My head throbbed, as he heaved himself at me, with gaping maw and gnarled hands that groped for something to latch onto. I felt good, suddenly, strong and aware. I stepped and swung, as if to hit a baseball, putting all of my weight into it.
Powered by this adrenaline rush, the axe tore through outstretched hands before striking the zombie just below the chin. I turned my head, expecting a shower of blood, but there was none. It must have coagulated in the zombie's rotted veins. Even as the severed head tumbled through the air, I hardly saw a drop. Momentum drove the heavy corpse forward. Before I could avoid it, a stumpy fore arm snagged the strap of my satchel, yanking it from me and spilling the contents onto the ground. My first aid kit rattled across the floor.
My attention turned back to the wheezing zombie. He had made his way to the top of the aisle and was getting very close. His raspy growls resonated in my ears, amplifying my headache. My knuckles were white, ready to swing.
Glass shattered, and something small and heavy thudded against the tile behind me. It rolled forward, past me, and settled at the feet of the nearby zombie. It was a grenade! In a fraction of a second, I had dropped the axe and was running in the opposite direction, toward the door. I slammed against it at full speed, grabbing and turning the handle. Beautiful daylight hit me in the face. Halfway through the door, I felt an intense pressure on my back and eardrums. Dust and debris rushed past me. I hit the ground hard. The bright blue sky faded to black.
When I awoke, everything was hazy. I was moving, being dragged on a stretcher or something. It hurt to breathe. I couldn't speak or keep my eyes open. The world was spinning. My headache intensified with every breath. There were two men with me, from what I could tell. One dragged the board I was on while the other walked beside him. The second man wore red, and carried a gun. I caught fragments of their conversation as we moved.
"...still alive..."
"...airport...helicopter..."
"...monsters...so many..."
"...make it...alternate food source..."
Those final words baffled me, but these guys had a plan to escape, I knew it, and they were taking me with them! The airfield was nearby, and there's a helicopter! A wave of intense pain and pressure swelled inside my head. I blacked out.
A gunshot boomed, snapping me out of my brain cramp. My head was pounding, ears ringing. My vision slowly returned. A groan arose from the silence nearby. I turned my head to see a man lying on the ground. He was bleeding badly from a bullet wound. There was a loud crash from the other direction. I turned quickly. My gaze was met by dead eyes. What was happening here?!
The zombie stumbled over a spilt trashcan, moving steadily in my direction. From the shadows behind it emerged another, and another. More raspy vocals echoed forth from the darkness all around me. They must have been right behind us! We're screwed! I tried to move, but couldn't. I was being held down! My wrists and ankles were tied to the board that was my stretcher. "Hey," I shouted at the dying man. "HEY!" I struggled uselessly against the ropes.
The man turned to face me. He was pale and shivering. "I'm sorry...I didn't want to do it," he said in a shaky voice. Shock and terror shone in his expression. He curled into a fetal position and began to mutter incoherently. Hysterical paralysis overtook him.
Alternate food source, I get it now...I was bait. The whine of a helicopter's rotor cut through the hungry growls of the advancing horde. The red guy must have made it. Rage boiled inside me. Zombies were advancing, dozens of them. They reached out, clumsily falling over each other to get to me. I panicked, struggling to breathe. I shouted, but couldn't even hear my own voice over the racket of the helicopter lifting off.
Dust and garbage was picked up and blown around by the chopper's downdraft. The pain in my temple was excruciating. Cold hands began to grab at me. The helicopter flew overhead, drowning out all other sounds. Debris swirled violently in the air, as something began scraping at my scalp. I winced, closing my eyes as hard as I could. My headache hammered once more, and was gone. There was no more pain. I felt comfortable.
As the sound of the helicopter faded into the night, I smiled and thought....
...this isn't so bad.
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