Prompt Post 3
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A bullet to either of their brains.
He just hadn’t expected Esca to ask for it.
“Shoot me, Marcus. Fuckin’ shoot me, now!”
***They’d never know how it spread so fast, or where it started. Didn’t matter. These were the facts ( ... )
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this is already absolutely incredible, I've held my breath for the whole time.
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I love your zombies - how they move, and attack, and scent their prey. The imagery in this is just lovely, too, and oh, the glimpse of the ending of this is utterly heartbreaking! I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THIS ALREADY!
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Very excellent. Waiting eagerly for more.
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Marcus grinded his teeth and tasted the iron tang of blood on his tongue. He didn’t reply. Marcus hadn’t committed cold-blooded murder. He’d killed through necessity, for survival.
Regardless, Marcus was one bullet down and one bloodied bumper up.
He continued to drive.
***
There was no reception in these goddamn hills. No gas stations, no cars, no humanity. The man who sat in the back seat didn’t count for the latter.
After a time of frozen silence, MacCunoval said with unnerving apathy, “End of days.”
Marcus couldn’t deny or confirm. Instead he fiddled with the shitty GPS module, in search of the nearest town. He needed a working phone, the internet, something. He needed information and he needed it now ( ... )
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Captivating, scary and in-character!
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Run, run, run. Breathe. Run!
Sharp, ragged screams spiked holes into the thick fabric of falling night. Each fractured wail stabbed through Marcus’ resolve like a knife to his lungs, leaving him gasping as he shot down the centre of the street. Countless fumbling footsteps raced behind; clacking bones and torn, squelching muscle.
Blood splatter dried on Marcus’ cheeks and neck, the collar of his uniform soaked and cold and clinging to his skin. His gun nearly slipped from his red-slick fingers as he shifted it from one hand to the other and yanked open the truck door.
“The fuck?” MacCunoval’s stiff face was pressed up to the cell, his fingertips clawed against the metal cage that separated the back from the front.
Marcus spared him the briefest glance - long enough to see the flicker of shock disappear into a cold, hard façade. “Sit down,” he said, the boom of his voice filling the cabin ( ... )
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Every time Esca and Marcus converse, or interact at all, I'm grinning like the cheshire cat. OMG it's all written so well, and so true to character, and yet there's an edge to it, a humor and darkness and tension.
So much love for this. So much.
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Marcus followed this single vein, not pausing at any villages for provisions. That could be saved for later, and only when absolutely necessary.
MacCunoval remained mostly silent, and Marcus preferred it that way. He didn’t need the devil on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. Marcus required calm; a place to think - and, Marcus begrudgingly admitted to himself, to sleep.
The road wavered in his vision, and for a few blurry seconds he would imagine that this had all been a nightmare. Then a scream would sound in the distance, or they’d pass a chewed corpse of an elderly woman, and reality would snap back.
In some ways, Marcus wondered if much of the world was changing at all. Marcus’ service in the Marines had taught him about murder and sacrifice and rage. Bravery, cowardice, survival.
The world hadn’t changed that much, had it? There were just a few ( ... )
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it's an instant classic.
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