Snippet #1503154

It had taken twelve years for them to finally get her, but get her they had...

Naomi Nebraska had been slumped back in a wooden chair, surrounded by a group of three; a woman, a man and a child. They were in a shack, a dark, wooden shack lit only by rays of sunlight bursting in through gaps between the planks that had been nailed over the windows. Those rays of light revealed just how awfully dusty the room was... It hadn't been used in years. But it was being used now.

The sound of a dozen of the walking dead, groaning and banging against the barricaded door from the outside, completely swamped the sounds of the other three, who were talking amongst themselves frantically. It didn't matter... All those sounds were incoherent and distant to her. So very, very distant. She was feeling horrible, ill, feverish, dizzy, as though the world was spinning around her, her body was breaking down and her sanity was fading. It took the man before her to lift up her eye-lid and examine her dilated pupils with the ray of a torch to finally bring her back to attention.

Oh yeah... She had been bitten. Her left arm was in a sling and already red stains were beginning to show on her forearm... She didn't have much time left.

"We have to go now, Naomi," the man before her said as he pushed the butt of a Colt Single Action Army revolver into her quivering right hand, then began to aid her in loading the six chambers. "... We know you can't speak and that aren't going to make it, so we've given you six rounds. Use them wisely... We're leaving now."

The man's stinging kiss against her forehead was the last she saw of him, before he and his companions disappeared down a hatch in the floor to a cavern system below. So this was how it would end, huh? The first grey, bloody sign of a hand tore through a weaker part of the door in line to her front, adding yet another ray of light to burst into the room and a glance at those angry, undead souls gathering outside. They longed for her flesh... But would she give it them? She didn't want to become one of them... No. Not in a million years. To fight for so long, only to succumb to the horde when those she had come to respect and love needed her the most? It would be betrayal.

The sounds of growling then drowned out completely as he shaky gaze fell down to the gun in her hand... It echoed; the sound of her thumb pulling the hammer back. A sound that became so distant, but refused to leave her. A haunting, monotone note that reapplied itself to her ears over and over again until her hand had managed to lift the tip of the Revolver to the inside of her mouth. She bit down on it, hard, and for the first time in so long, Naomi Nebraska began to cry as her finger finally squeezed the trigger.

Then there she was... Terces. She was lying against the soft grass with her face buried into the sea of softly swaying green. Her tears fell to the ground below her and her eyes were shut tightly in fear; her fists clenched and hidden under her body. She could hear voices nearby, muffled, yet slowly becoming clear... It didn't matter. She had no idea what was going on and the way she silently whimpered behind the discussion made it clear she didn't want to. She was in so much shock she had yet to realize what had even happened.