St. Christopher

Silence. That's all Cora hears, silence.

Then, a bright light emerged and a flare flew down the dark and dank hallway, illuminating the halls in a dark red, revealing the faded paint and the broken doors that decorated the halls. A loud howl followed by the sound of footsteps running towards her caught her attention. She watched as three people stumbled into the hallway, their skin the color of aged parchment paper, bits hanging off in tatters. Their nails were long and sharp like claws, staying low to the ground, hunched over like rats. She drew her suppressed Winchester off her shoulder and stared through the scope. Lined the cross hair over the first rat, the bullet punching through the rat as she pulled the trigger. She spun the lever around and aimed at the other rat, who was now sprinting at her. She shot it in the face, the bullet leaving a nice-sized hole in its head. The last rat charged at her and she flicked a wrist blade, waiting till the creature got close to her, then she jumped over the rat and stabbed it through its back, killing it instantly. After a few minutes, she let out a breath while storing her knives, stepping over the corpses while moving into the hallway.

She checked the first room, finding nothing in the mini-fridge, cupboards, or medicine cabinet. As she closed the medicine cabinet, she saw her reflection staring back at her. She had amber eyes, black hair with a red streak, pale skin, a red flannel shirt, torn jeans, steel toe boots, and a faded backpack. She set her hand on the mirror, touching her reflection when a loud crash echoed through the building. She grabbed the Winchester off her shoulder and listened, waiting for the noise to happen again.

"Who's there?" She exclaimed, listening again. She crept out of the hallway and heard the crash again, her eyes switched to the door at the end of the hall. She walked to it, slowly pushing it open and walked in. It was a cold, dark, and dank room that smelled of rotting flesh. She pulled her bandanna over her nose and walked into the room, slowly reaching into her backpack and pulled out another flare, lighting it up to reveal a soldier lying on the ground, a silenced 1911 pointed at her. She dropped the flare and aimed the Winchester at him as he slowly pulled himself up to the wall, still aiming the gun at her.

"Drop the gun!" She yelled, pointing her Winchester at him. He shook his head and pulled the slide back on the revolver, still aiming it at her.

"You drop your gun!" He yelled, coughing slightly as he clutched his side. She looked down to see that he had a huge gash in his side, blood spilling through the camouflage jacket. He was taking in deep breaths of air, his breath steaming in the room. She looked at his gut when he suddenly dropped the gun, looking at her with remorseful eyes .

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," He breathed, his head resting on the wall. She still had her Winchester pointed at him when she saw his duffel bag.

"Toss me that," She said, pointing her gun at it. He looked at her then at the bag. Then, he reached for it and tossed it to her, landing at her feet. She kept the gun pointed at him as she opened it, finding medicine and canned food. She slung it over her shoulder and went to leave when the soldier yelled at her.

"Wait!" He yelled, holding his hand out to her. He tried to stand but fell back to the floor, grimacing in pain. He still had his hand pressed against his side when she looked at him, gun in her hand.

"You're not just going to leave me here, are you?" He said, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

"Why should I help you? How do I know if you're faking it?" She asked. He sighed and grimaced, pointing at the pistol he dropped.

"Because if I was faking it, I would've shot you already," He said, smiling slightly. She sighed out of her nose and lowered her gun. The soldier let out a breath and was about to speak when she raised her hand, cutting him off.

"How did you get hurt?" She asked, looking at his wound.

"Rats," He spat, grimacing in pain as blood spilled through his hand. She nodded at his hand and looked at him.

"Move your hand," She said. The soldier shook his head and grimaced.

"I can't, I'm holding my guts in right now," He said, resting his head against the wall. She picked up the Winchester and aimed it at him, anger written on her face.

"I wasn't giving you an option," She said. The soldier closed his eyes and slowly moved his hand away when she saw the glint of something metallic in his hand. She fired and watched as blood flew out of the guards mouth, his body stiff as he stopped moving. She picked up his silenced pistol and looked at his other hand as the flare slowly went out to see that it wasn't a gun that was in his hand like she thought it was.

It was a St. Christopher medallion.