Wave By Wave

What happens between the waves of the undead, while there's only one alive? What goes on? What do the the characters get up to?

A short story by Mabel.

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Abigail Briarton sighed, as her long, sweet, perfect legs dangled from the edge of the skyscraper. Behind her stood an escalator, and she felt gloomy inside. She's a survivor from the Zombie Apocalypse, and it's not easy. Well, killing the freak bags is, but dealing with the stress and trauma proved very difficult.



She wiped sweat from her cheek, which smeared her blush, “Oh, why does everything have to be like this? Daddy gone, everyone gone, and stuck here with a bunch of lunatics.”



Up, above the escalator, stood Samuel Stuhlinger, watching as the birds flew by, smiling. “I bet that snot nosed, Darlington or whatever, would probably be able to recognise the species.” He noticed a melancholy Abigail below, and walked over to her.



As she heard the dreaded footsteps, she turned her head, and sighed. “Uh.” She grunted. “What do you want, Stupinger? I'm not going to show you my breasts, and Conspiracies R Us is around the corner, off of the edge of the skyscraper. Can't you see I'm not in the mood?”



“Wow, Misty. Thought you were tougher than this.” Samuel paused, and sat down next to her. “It's all a game, by the Government... but as I was saying, you insult us, act all game, but now you're sobbing like a little girl?”



Abigail rolled her eyes, “I'm sorry, it must be the Government controlling me.” She sarcastically replied, “I must've forgotten my tin-foiled hat. By the way, wouldn't you be eating right now, before the Zombies come back, wave after wave?”



Stuhlinger said, “Eh, the Government is probably just chillin' at the White House, and probably just laughing this all off...” Suddenly, a throbbing pain seized his mind, and he groaned in agony. “Ah!” He let out a cry of torturous pain.



“What now, Stupinger?” Abigail nudged him. “Are your imaginary friends calling you?”



<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Fine, can't you just wait a sec... I'm busy... Why do we have to do this anyway...? Who are you...? Gargh... leave me alone, damn it! Leave me alone!” Samuel Stuhlinger yelled out to the world, and the voices in his head stopped. “Sorry about that.”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Abigail asked, “What the hell is going on with you? Who are you even talking to?”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“YOUR FUCKING FATHER DOWN IN HELL, ROTTING!” Samuel Stuhlinger snapped, as he adjusted his glasses. “Who do you bloody think is talking to me? That creepy German voice, who brought us here!”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Wow...” Abigail wept, wiping a tear from her eyes. Her father was everything to her. They had so much in common, and he taught her everything, and just thinking about this made her so distraught. “I can't believe you'd say that...”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Samuel put his palm against his forehead, “No. I didn't mean it like that... I'm just frustrated... That's all.”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Aren't we all?” Abigail rudely replied, “Just go away... Go back to that weird old man, Hashtag, Rushhand, or whatever... I'm clearly not in the fucking mood.”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Samuel sighed, as he heard the gunshot, and the splattering brain of the zombie, as it splashed onto his cheek. “Damn it, Marlton. What the hell? Can't you keep a zombie longer?”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Not my fault, Stuhlinger.” Marlton replied, in his annoying, high pitched voice. “Why can't you hold it? The thing had me cornered!”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Russman interfered into the conversation, with his loud, snappy voice, “The fucking thing had no legs, ya' pussy! From now on, let Russman do the job.”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Pfft.” Marlton sighed, “Only if you can spell.”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Oh, Russman will spell it, alright!” He replied, as he raised his wrinkly fist, flipping him off. “F-U-C-K O-F-F! Run home back to momma, before I beat your ass black!”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Marlton rolled his eyes, not at all threatened. “Oh my, why would I ever want to look like you?”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Yup...” Abigail rolled her eyes, “here we go again!” She pulled out Dual Wield Five-Sevens from her pockets, as barriers were beginning to get pulled down by the undead. “Lock and load boys, let's get this shit started... again...”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Marlton cocked the Saiga 12 from behind his back, as he got a collateral headshot, knocking the Zombie corpses off of the edge of the building. “Paybacks a bitch! Which, also Russman is, by the way.”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Russman kicked Marlton in his precious shin, as he wielded an RPG, blasting the limbs off of the undead, and their corpses went flying. “Big, bada, boom! Russman likes it that way!”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">Samuel pulled out his Executioner, and begun firing out shells at the undead.“You ready, whore?”

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">

<p class="western" style="margin-bottom:0cm">“Let's get this shit, started.” Abigail smiled, as the thought of taking down freak bags brought joy to her. “Die!” The group continued to blast fire at the undead.