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Entry tags:
Drabble #44
Prompt: #20: Crazy
Fandom: Left 4 Dead
Genre: Horror/Drama
Rating: PG-13
Notes: I am probably the only person in the world to write about Churchguy XD
He took several deep, shuddering breaths. The gun finally clattered to the floor. His ears were still ringing from the five, maybe even six shots he fired, as he stared wide eyed at the body in front of him. For several long minutes all he could do was sit shaking on the floor, pressed as close to the wall as was physically possible. He had almost forgotten how to blink as he stared, as if expecting the dead boy to suddenly sit up and lunge at him.
Gradually his other senses returned, and he began to remember how much his arm hurt. He winced and brought his hand to the ripped sleeve of his green, oversized coat. The whole sleeve was stained brown with blood, and his breath caught in his throat as he investigated the bite. If he hadn't stopped the guy, his flesh would have been ripped clean off.
Still unable to make his legs work, he struggled to sidle to the table nearby, teaching for a first aid kit. As he rummaged through it for a bandage, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the body across the room.
His name was Adam. He was just another survivor, heading to Riverside, like he was. He trusted him when he said he was immune. He had been hiding in the church when Adam arrived, banging on the door and begging to be let in. They would have eaten him if he hadn't let him in.
It was Adam's idea that they stayed in the church for the night. Traveling by daylight would be easier, he said. Better safe than sorry, he said. He trusted him enough to agree. He was just glad to see another person alive in this mess. He felt safer in the silence of the churchhouse just knowing someone else was there.
Everything was a blur after that. He was so tired after the long run for cover that he almost fell right to sleep. Then the next thing he knew Adam had bitten into his arm and in a panic he had kicked the infected boy away and blown his head off with the nearby loaded pistol.
But he'd said he was immune. He trusted him.
He tightened the bandage on his arm with his teeth, grimacing at the taste of his own blood. The discolored gauze was already soaked red. He looked over Adam's dead body again. He looked just like those things did outside. No matter how human they look they always looked like that in the end.
His hands were dripping with blood now. He stared at them, rubbing the red fluid between his fingers, in a daze. He just couldn't believe he bit him. He trusted him. He said he was immune.
A howl outside echoed through the forest. They were swarming again. He shrunk into the wall again, keeping himself as small as possible. He could already hear the garbled snarls and the claws against the wooden church walls.
Nothing mattered now but survival. He'd get through this alone. He couldn't trust anybody out here. He won't be fooled twice. Better safe than sorry.
He stared up at the wall, then back at the drying blood on his hands, and in half a thought he began to write that phrase on the wall, making use of the red fluid that covered him.
Better safe than sorry.
Better safe than sorry.
Better safe than sorry.
Better safe than sorry.
Fandom: Left 4 Dead
Genre: Horror/Drama
Rating: PG-13
Notes: I am probably the only person in the world to write about Churchguy XD
He took several deep, shuddering breaths. The gun finally clattered to the floor. His ears were still ringing from the five, maybe even six shots he fired, as he stared wide eyed at the body in front of him. For several long minutes all he could do was sit shaking on the floor, pressed as close to the wall as was physically possible. He had almost forgotten how to blink as he stared, as if expecting the dead boy to suddenly sit up and lunge at him.
Gradually his other senses returned, and he began to remember how much his arm hurt. He winced and brought his hand to the ripped sleeve of his green, oversized coat. The whole sleeve was stained brown with blood, and his breath caught in his throat as he investigated the bite. If he hadn't stopped the guy, his flesh would have been ripped clean off.
Still unable to make his legs work, he struggled to sidle to the table nearby, teaching for a first aid kit. As he rummaged through it for a bandage, he couldn't keep his eyes off of the body across the room.
His name was Adam. He was just another survivor, heading to Riverside, like he was. He trusted him when he said he was immune. He had been hiding in the church when Adam arrived, banging on the door and begging to be let in. They would have eaten him if he hadn't let him in.
It was Adam's idea that they stayed in the church for the night. Traveling by daylight would be easier, he said. Better safe than sorry, he said. He trusted him enough to agree. He was just glad to see another person alive in this mess. He felt safer in the silence of the churchhouse just knowing someone else was there.
Everything was a blur after that. He was so tired after the long run for cover that he almost fell right to sleep. Then the next thing he knew Adam had bitten into his arm and in a panic he had kicked the infected boy away and blown his head off with the nearby loaded pistol.
But he'd said he was immune. He trusted him.
He tightened the bandage on his arm with his teeth, grimacing at the taste of his own blood. The discolored gauze was already soaked red. He looked over Adam's dead body again. He looked just like those things did outside. No matter how human they look they always looked like that in the end.
His hands were dripping with blood now. He stared at them, rubbing the red fluid between his fingers, in a daze. He just couldn't believe he bit him. He trusted him. He said he was immune.
A howl outside echoed through the forest. They were swarming again. He shrunk into the wall again, keeping himself as small as possible. He could already hear the garbled snarls and the claws against the wooden church walls.
Nothing mattered now but survival. He'd get through this alone. He couldn't trust anybody out here. He won't be fooled twice. Better safe than sorry.
He stared up at the wall, then back at the drying blood on his hands, and in half a thought he began to write that phrase on the wall, making use of the red fluid that covered him.
Better safe than sorry.
Better safe than sorry.
Better safe than sorry.
Better safe than sorry.