The smut from the fireplace covered the dank floor in the front room. The small group of six apocalypse survivors huddled together in the dark. They could hear the bestial, fetid creatures walking around outside. The survivor's attempts to make a fire were botched, for after it had rained it had left the wood, they had found outside, damp.
Tomorrow when the sun would be out, a group of three or four of the survivors would have to do the heinous job of killing what chickens they had left for food. For now, they would rest as the zombies, being predators at night, looking for prey unaware of these survivors inside their abandoned house.
Morning came, along with silence. Their leader, Garth, awoke before everybody else. He put on his bulletproof vest over a long sleeve t-shirt. Thick jeans and combat boots followed them. Grabbing his gun and sword he put them in their places. Although he was right-handed, he was a left-hander shooter, so of course, his gun went on his left hip. With that in place, he slid his sword, in its sheath, through a slit in his vest which secured it in place on his back.
Quietly, he crept towards the window near the door, which they left clear of boards so they could watch for zombies. Moving the curtain aside barely an inch with his finger he cautiously looked out. Nothing but a destroyed garden, which lay in destruction, lay in the front yard. A dead tree, also in the front yard, slumped to one side near the road. It was warm outside, the perfect temperature for chopping wood.
The subaltern woke shortly after Garth left the house. Without a second thought, she quickly got to her feet, throwing on some fresh clothing. Grabbing her sword and without checking out the window she left the house. She locked the door before crossing the yard over to Garth. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Without looking up from his work Garth calmly replied, "So, you decided to come to guard me then, did you?"
The woman wore a frown and held her tongue. Garth glanced up at her, smiling. "You can always take over and I'll stand guard. Or you can stand watch. It's up to you, Catherine."
With one hand on the hilt of her sword, ready for an attack if it came, Catherine turned away from Garth to face the road. Her blonde hair blew in the wind a few strands sliding over her face, yet her bright, green eyes never once blinked in irritation. She stood tall, strong and ready for anything that might happen. She was the fastest, strongest, most protective, and most clever person Garth had ever met in his entire life. Catherine seemed to almost be out of place, yet somehow fitting into this universe.
Garth was like her in a way. He was strong, brave, protective, and clever. But Catherine was a goddess compared to him. He was the leader only because Catherine wanted it that way. Although she always stayed by his side, she kept more to herself than with others. She was like his loyal guide, but somehow still the princess.
Her shoulders went rigid, her grip on her sword tightening. "How much more wood, Garth?"
"Growing tense?" Slowly setting the axe down he slid his gun out of its holder. Catherine nodded, pulling her sword free of its sheath.
"Take as much wood as you can and get inside. NOW!"
Smoke bombs went off on all sides of them. Catherine jumped into the air, out of the smoke. In the air, she calculated and brought her sword down with her. A blood-curdling scream ran throughout the hills. "One rebel down. Just four more left."
A shout ran through the smoke. "Holy shit! She can see us through the smoke!"
Garth scrambled, trying to hold his ground as another rebel swung at him with a blood-stained bat. Dodging his swings, Garth aimed and fired.
Shot between the eyes, the rebel crumpled to the ground. Putting away his gun he grabbed an armful of logs and ran to the house.
Another survivor inside the shelter quickly threw open the door for him, shutting it just as fast as Garth made it inside. The man, Garth, and the three other survivors watched out of the window as Catherine fought.
Faced off with two rebels and one behind her, Catherine was surrounded. Eyes darting between them all, she waited. The one behind her struck first, jabbing with a pocket knife at her. She dodged his sloppy attacks, spinning around him. She swung her sword this way and that way.
The rebel stood still, then his right arm holding the knife fell to the ground. His left arm followed suit. Blood poured from his wounds as he screamed with horror at his fallen limbs. To silence him Catherine flipped over him, landing on one knee facing the other two rebels.
Through the man's jaw, her sword went, silencing him forever. She smiled cruelly up at the other two men as their jaws dropped in horror.
She reached behind her and slid her sword out of his head and stood, cleaning it off on his shirt. Glancing up she saw the other two men at least a yard away from the forest, which was behind the survivors' house.
Shrugging it off she searched the three dead men and found a few knives, a bat, and some matches. She walked towards the house as if she hadn't just killed two men. The man who let Garth in let Catherine in as well, locking the door after she was in.
Catherine dropped her search onto the dining table, went down the hall, and turned left into the bathroom to wash up. It was just another normal day in the life of these apocalypse survivors.
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