The Zombie States of America (New Character)

So its 2015 and they made the zombie infection. Enjoy!!!! :D

Chapter 3

Boo Gavin

I screamed, a primal and unearthly sound, and snapped the muscles in my arms taught; cracking my baseball bat against the skull of the nearest infected. Its head ripped cleanly off at the neck, and I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. Stifling sobs, I turned and dropped to my knees in the middle of the ring of bodies I had created. Lia. Not my Lia.

"Lia?" I called softly, cupping her downy head in my hands as she lay stone-still on the asphalt. I wasn't going to cry. Boo Gavin, zombie hunter extraordinaire, did not cry. Not even over the only family she had left. The muscles and cords in her slender swan-neck we're clearly, sicken fly visible in the gaping hole left by the eager mouths of the infected. 

They all had to die. 

Every one.

A rattling groan tore me from my sorrow, I I stood and turned in one fluid movement. My heart sank. I was tired, and ready to give myself up to the three huge zombies that ambled toward me. I was alone. Miserable. I closed my eyes.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" My pine green eyes snapped open to see a pick-axe sailing through the air to catch firmly in the eye of the nearest monster. The voice was still, as of yet, unidentified. "Fight!" Unthinking, I reached over my shoulder to where my make-shift carrier (made of an old pair of suspenders, rope, and some duct tape) cradled the treasure of my little adventure. Peering through the scope of my sniper hunting rifle, I fired two shots in quick succession at the couple of shambling beasts. Then I turned to face mystery man. 

My breath caught in my throat at the boy who stood over me, calmly brushing past.

"Who are you?" I blurted. He didn't answer; just firmly panted a booted foot on the zombie's face and jerked his axe free. 

"Name's Felix. Felix Hemingway." He turned and bowed cockily, his charming accent catching me slightly off guard.


"Why'd you take my kills?" I cocked my hip and raised a penciled eyebrow. 

"Where did a lovely lady like you learn to shoot like that?" Felix retorted. 

"Experience." My tone was bitter. He seemed to take the hint, and nodded. 

"I'm headed toward Louisiana. Baton rouge." His manner was so aloof, I couldn't help but like him. "Care to join me?" I noticed his choice of a hat.

"You . . . Want me . . . To trust a random British guy with a pickaxe and a . . . top hat?" 

Felix grinned easily.

"Of course. I trust a girl with ripped flag shorts and aviators." I blushed. "Now let's go before we draw a hoard." Staying about a foot apart (hey, being paranoid had saved my life before), we stepped quickly around the rubble of my hometown that littered the streets. My heart ached as I slowly walked away from my 4-year-old sister, but the world was a different place now. That's what had to be done, so it would get done.

Felix stopped and titled his head to the side, listening, "Do you hear that?"  I stopped as well, and listened, shuffling my booted foot.
And engine. Like, to an actual car. 

"They still have those?" I wondered in awe. "I thought they were all taken so the infection wouldn't spread?" Felix's eyes darkened even further. 

"Some people paid their way out." He started quick-stepping towards the intersection up ahead, and we spun slowly in a lazy circle to see which street it was coming from. 

"Here," I said surely, pointing down the left avenue. He joined me, and we stood in the middle of the street, waiting. A car jumped into view, hurtling along. In the sharp glare of the fluorescent headlights, to see the driver was impossible, so we leaped to either side of the road to avoid its wild run. It skidded to a jerking stop I between us, and both windows of the jeep's carriage slid open. Inside was a boy, maybe a year older than me and about the same age as Felix, 15 maybe 16. He poked his dark-haired head outside the window and grinned crookedly.

"Need a ride?" 

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