“Where are the others?” inquired George.
“We were ambushed by another scavenging party,” I replied. “We got separated when the zombies arrived." I then proceeded to pull Eric’s unconscious body out of the vehicle. “He’s hurt,” I said, “Where’s the doc?”
I could see a small pool of blood on the seat of our car. George and Michael opened the gate. As fast as I could, I ran to the medical tent, dropped Eric off on a cot and told John, our doctor, what happened.
“Damn raiders shot him in the leg,” I said, out of breath from carrying Eric. John nodded.
“He’ll need blood,” the doc said, applying an injection to ease Eric’s pain.
“Right,” I replied. It was now common knowledge in Pleasantville that my blood type was O negative. It was for this reason that John secretly valued my life over that the others: I was his universal donor. Without warning, John stuck a needle in my arm, connected to a blood bag by way of a flexible tube.
“I’d appreciate it if you warned me before sticking a needle in my arm,” I said, slightly annoyed. John just nodded, and avoided eye-contact. He wasn’t a man of many words, but he was the best doctor we had.
I was just starting to feel dizzy when John disconnected me from the blood bag and got to work on Eric. It wasn’t long before Eric was properly patched up and my blood was being fed into his veins.
Slowy, I walked to my tent to get some rest. I was very weary from the long day of scavenging. I shared a tent with Sarah, Jack, and Eric. My cot was at the back, on the right hand side, and there was a small box with my belongings under it. It contained mostly trinkets I’d found outside of camp, relics of days long gone: batteries, a walkman, old headphones. They were the only things I could truly call my own. When I reached the cot, I practically collapsed on it. It wasn’t long before I was fast asleep.
I awoke to the sound of gunshots. I sprung up from my cot and rushed outside. There, I saw a spotlight shining to the east, and our guards, rifles trained. I jogged up beside them.
“What is it?” I inquired.
“Horde,” replied George, “I’d say we have about ten minutes until they reach us."
“Jesus, it’s massive,” I said. “I’ll get everyone out the back, you keep ’em busy.”
“Right,” said Michael.
As fast as I could, I rang our alarm bell. One by one people walked out of their tents, tired and squinting.
“Get out the back!” I yelled. “Run!” It took a moment for everyone to realize what was happening, and soon people were screaming and running for the back gate. The zombies were upon the front of our base now, shaking the fence. I hurried back to my tent for my rifle and began assisting Michael and George. No matter how many shots we fired, we weren’t making any progress, there had to be hundreds of walking corpses. It was only a matter of time before they…
CRACK!
The fence surrounding Pleasantville had collapsed and the wave of undead was piling in. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, resigned to my fate. The zombies were upon me, and within seconds I was gone.
“Crap!” I yelled, reading the flashing “Game Over” text across my screen. “Guess I’ll call it a night, man.” I said into the microphone.
“Alright,” replied Eric, “we’ll try again tomorrow.”
Wearily, I closed my laptop, and dragged myself to bed.
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