15 Grand Escape

I wordlessly scream inside my head, and the voice echoed throughout the scene had numbed my broken heart—losing both of my senses and reasoning. The tears from my eyes had overflowed like the pouring rain, a thunderstorm even, welting up inside of me. Numerous growls within my vicinity had immersed quite heavily, as if it some sort of music strung by a benevolent violinist for a sorrowful funeral…For the death of Pura Wattson.

"I'll come back for you" I cooed, still mourning for her death. I couldn't help but close my eyes from the image that was laid out right in front of me. Her body, as soft as an angel, had been crippled down to its withered state. The lower limbs finally extracts itself, revealing her inside scattered like a puzzle piece waiting to be attached. The pool of spoiled blood had bathe her cold skin, as it stains her clothes with a foul, gentle manner. Nevertheless, her eyes are shut tight, calmly sleeping amidst from all of these. Her lips are still fresh and curled in a form of a smile, which seemed that she had experienced a heroic death.

But she didn't!

She was forced to die with one tiny mistake that had endangered her life. If I hadn't been lucky from the past few weeks, I could've end up falling similarly from my deceased friend; worse, to be zombify from the likes of them.

A sniffling audio alerted my senses. Turns out, it was Clinton who came rushing towards the scene.

"No…" Were the few words he could ever mutter.

His face grew pale the moment he step foot on the scarlet puddle surrounding the corpse of the silent girl. Clinton momentarily pauses and soon shifted his gaze towards my direction before bursting down into tears.

"She's still alive, right? Pura can still be saved! T-TAKE HER TO SOMEONE!"

I shook my head and looked away. It was the undeniable truth. The force of the monster had strangled the living cells of her human flesh, thus resulted our catastrophe.

No words escaped our mouth; but the rage that was dwelling inside flutters our hearts and boiled unto madness.

Clinton dashes forth towards the undying being who had fallen quite the distance and crashed heavily on the ground.

"Idiot!" I followed his trail while reloading my gun, which had fired several bullets that cleanly landed on what seems to be the cranium of the Lich.

On the other hand, Venice had successfully guided the two other survivors on the chopper. She gave a quick glance on the zombies around the church and shuffles back towards my location. But it was already too late when I and Clinton had sprinted towards the reanimated body of the 15 feet monster.

It was helplessly stuttering, as it pulls itself upright, confused from what had happened. Its scornful eyes threw daggers at the sight of the rushing Clinton, who'd jumped from the verge of the roof, at a height of approximately 50 feet tall.

He grips out the handle of his pan and hurls it with great force at the nape of the fiend. Alas, the strength accumulated from the strike had dealt nothing to the target. Even so, from the impact he had witnessed, Clinton had finally found an opening. He swiftly manoeuvres himself in mid-air and used the coercion, that he had previously dealt, which allowed him to jump thus closing the distance. Utilising the second chance, he bashes once again, this time using the other side of the pan, and manages to crack the shell out from its skull. His skillet also shatters from the process and proudly offers itself for the sake of its master. He then threw the handle from the zombie who was vividly wandering about. The zombie stumbles from the collision and screeches out a snarl. The inaudible voice alerted the wandering zombies and briskly surrounded Clinton from the corner.

With the depth of the ground and from where I am positioned to, I decided that the best course of option was to deposit my rope that was hidden inside my bag and propel it on the ground. This will allow Clinton to latch himself towards the cord and hopefully escape from the bordering crowd of the undead.

But the idea itself was still a pipe dream. The horde was rapidly closing in, and the zombies whom were relatively farther away had bonded in the frame. From miles away, I could see sudden spurts from both human and animal zombies joining the fray. These mammals are the stray dogs and cats who had unfortunately turned into the spitting image of the dead and hungrily pouncing north directly towards our direction.

"Shit! Clinton, get your ass up in here." I screamed, hoping to be heard.

"Got it." He manages to stick himself from the rough surface of the rope and latches tightly like a monkey. But with the remaining numbers of zombies still hot on our tail, pulling him into safety while securing the needed space could prove to be a difficult feat to accomplish.

From my behind, I could discern innumerable gunshots fired beneath the ground. The bullets was accurately shot from either their centre mass or the head itself, crippling the zombies, if not relentlessly meeting their doom.

I turned around and saw Venice holding out her rifle, firing from all angles. The infected had trampled down the brick wall and uses the compiled debris and stacked corpses as a stepping stone to ascend themselves towards our terrain. But the number of infected kept multiplying, and the ones we'd thought had died from the assault had miraculously emerged unscathed. These peculiar zombies had spores scattered from each of their dome and the vines which was never present from before had sprouted like weeds gasping for sunlight. These phenomenon had exhausted our armoury, leaving us no choice but to escape more hastily than ever before.

Clinton eventually reaches the apex of the roof and ran fleetly towards our safety. His profound sweat kept showering down, dripping from his neck. Clinton's expression had never changed, but the tremendous amount of effort, which had led him exerted this vigorous panting, have truly paid off upon his arrival on the roof.

"Thank you" He utters a coarse voice.

"Don't thank us yet" I said, as I fired my revolver from his breech and landed a clean blow from the zombie climbing below.

"Hurry" Venice's tactical experience had shown quite an exquisite show. Her performance is at top notch, and the precision and accuracy thrown from her gun-fires had almost relinquished the mass population of zombies who were about 10 feet away from our stand.

"The C4's are ready" Amidst from the situation, she had enough time to diligently plant all the mines at their designated locations.

Soon after, Trevor's chopper came diving in below nearly at our reach. He then offers down a ladder that enables us to climb upwards inside the wobbling and clamorous aircraft. Venice mounts first, followed by me, and lastly Clinton. Err, he'll…probably do just fine.

With few steps to make, it was Clinton's turn at last; and yet…

Looking down below, large digits of zombies came escalating unto the roofs, jumping across the heaps of rubbish as a form of support. Some of the zombies who had not reached the pinnacles of their decomposition had enabled themselves to leap towards the obstacle, hence landing onwards from the height of the roof. Using the wide 15 feet fallen monster as their trampoline, they perfectly stood their ground and are currently pursuing our tail. With Clinton being the last man left from the shaking ladder, Venice orders Trevor to move slightly above and shake off what was left from the desperate chase of the wicked undead.

"All according to plan" Trevor shifts the helicopter away from the church and slowly glides towards the west, creating a distant space from the wide-spread zombies afar.

"Hang on" I lowered my body and pulled him by his hand. The weight of Clinton's framework had took a tall from my skinny physique. With a helping hand covering my lack of strength, both Venice and I had successfully heave the worrisome Clinton from the metallic steps of the ladder.

"So…are we finally safe?" His question reverberates the surrounding. He swoops down supine on the floor and wipes his hard-earned sweat from the joyful ride from the flying chopper.

We all simultaneously nodded our heads and cower the senseless bicker from the back of our minds but…

The escape was still fresh inside our memories and brought an enormous defeat…being unable to save Pura, who had been our sole--jolly friend. I haven't even introduced them to Venice and Paul here, whom I've owe my life to. In exchange, I would love to be entitled as one of the "La vie" members guided by Venice herself, who seems capable enough to premier bountiful talented individuals in her command.

"I'm sorry for the loss of your friend. If I had been nimble enough and saved her first, I…"

"It wasn't your fault"

I replied. Venice, consumed by her own guilt, lowers her pride and asks for forgiveness.

"If it wasn't for you, we'll be all dead by now" Holding up my tear, I grabbed Venice's front and gave her a warm hug. The act itself depleted all sorts of negativity strolling inside of me, and the superficial nightmare had yet to begun.

Moving onwards, we headed back to our HQ and with the lessons carried in my mind learned, I had vowed myself to bring forth justice deserved, not just for Pura, but for the whole world who had experienced such deaths during these outbreak of zombies.

Andrew Turner, I'll remember that name

The person who created this all

Shall die from my very hands!!!

Such, the coolest scene had laid in front of me. Thinking such as a protagonist myself, the explosions coming from the C4's had abruptly exploded, creating a windy effect whilst dubbing these embarrassing lines.

With a loud "HA HA HA" (laughter) resounding from the sky, I had pretty much invited doom once again from my mischievous haul of death flags along the way.