Painkiller

Painkiller

“Don’t!” Stomp. “Ever!” Stomp. “Touch!” Stomp. “Her!” Stomp. “Fucker!”

“I think he got the message,” she called out from her seat on the steps that led to the second floor.

“You think?” Stomp. “Fucker!”

She looked over at the body, the stump of its neck, the head a pulpy mass on the ground.

“Pretty sure,” she said with a groan.

His head came up, his eyes locked on her. “You’re hurt,” he accused, as if he hadn’t just annihilated that undead fucker for hurting her..

“Thank you Captain Obvious,” she said weakly, her hand clamped to her side where blood trickled from the wound.

“Let me see.” He crossed to her in a few steps, his boots leaving red smears on the concrete.

“I’ll be fine,” she murmured as he pushed her hand away then she hissed in a breath as he probed her flesh.

“Yeah you will be,” he agreed grimly. He wouldn’t have it any other way, he couldn’t. “Here.” He placed Big Bertha in her hands. “Stay here while I scavenge upstairs. We cleared the floor here so you’ll be fine and I wont be long.”

“Okay.” She nodded and sat up straighter, hiding her wince.

“Babe?” He wrapped her pony tail around his hand to tug her head back. “You’re going to be fine,” he said it firmly, as if that would make it true.

“I know,” she smiled at him and cupped his jaw, pulled him down for a brief kiss. “Go collect what ever the hell there is worth having so we can get out of here.”

“I wont be long.” With one last tug of her hair he headed up.

She listened to his footsteps going up the stairs, a rapid pounding that slowed as he reached the top. Then measured steps as he cleared the rooms before starting his search. Last time they’d checked the Fire Station, there had been plenty of tinned food, bottled water, and first aid supplies. She hoped they still had first aid supplies.

Last time they’d checked there hadn’t been a group of zombies waiting for them though. The run through the streets had been easy which should have been a warning, but they’d seen groups in the distance, figured they were just lucky. The Fire Station had beckoned, the bay doors only slightly opened like they’d left them last time. They’d dashed inside, pushed the doors closed, collapsed against them together panting and laughing.

“That was awesome babe.” He’d grinned and trapped her between the door and his body, his mouth a breath from hers when they’d heard the low moan. It shouldn’t have happened. They didn’t like to be inside.  They didn’t hide. They didn’t … plan. But they had this time. Not that it had helped them. They had still ended up with their heads separated from their bodies or their brains blown out. Well, both really, since once they were all down Drew had gone around hacking and stomping.

She had stumbled over to the stairs and watched, her hand over the spot where one of them had grabbed at her. It burned like a bitch and was bleeding too much. She tried to keep her eyes opened while she waited for him to come back. Her last thought before she passed out was hoping he found some antiseptic and painkillers.

Like zombies?
Read the first three episodes here

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