Zombies don’t count
Apr. 24th, 2017 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
i_ship_itDodger hadn’t meant to stick around on the beach with two strange guys in a tiny lifeguard shack. She didn’t want to either. But the thing that had chased her back this way knew there were three people in there, and was very patient for one of them to come out. It stalked around the beach like a giant pincushion, with a bunch of mis-matched arrows sticking out of its back. It turned out Dave was a pretty good shot, but he was limited on ammo, and didn’t want to waste any more arrows if they weren’t going to do anything.
It turned out Mark was also pretty good with a slingshot, even though it was entirely useless. But after the first few hours of sitting around, waiting for the beast to leave, he apparently got bored enough to climb out onto the roof to fling stones out at it. It just pissed the monster off, but it didn’t seem to be able to climb, so Mark stayed up on the roof until he ran out of stones, shouting insults down at it every time he fired.
It didn’t leave after that. It didn’t leave that night, either. Or the next day. They had plenty of fire-roasted shark to see them through, but even a shark wasn’t going to last forever. Especially being shared amongst three people, rather than the two it had originally been for. But Dodger avoided calling attention to this, just in case they realised they’d be better off without her.
“So you guys like, own the beach, then?” she asked, watching the monster skulk through the sand out in the darkness. It had to get bored and leave eventually, right?
“From here to Del Rey, yeah,” Mark said. He was using his machete to carve out more slingshot ammo from a cupboard door. Mostly, he was just making a mess.
“Well, I guess that explains where you were last time.”
“You’re the first person we’ve seen in months,” Mark said.
Dodger knew she wasn’t the last. But she didn’t mention that, either. Dave didn’t know, and there was no reason to tell him.
“No, there was that one guy,” Dave offered.
“Zombies don’t count,” Mark said.
Dave shrugged. “He was still a guy.”
They started bickering over whether or not a zombie even counted as a “guy,” but Dodger didn’t bother joining in. She was tired. She hadn’t been getting any sleep while she was stuck in the tiny lifeguard shack, because the idea of sleeping with them around seemed like a supremely bad idea. But she had to get some rest before she passed out where she stood. There was a little bunk room toward the back of the building, which seemed like it was a place where they put people with heat stroke and jellyfish stings, once upon a time. Now, it was the room where she once almost died. The room where Mark had found her last time. There were a couple of cots, and even a blanket, and was generally comfortable, but she hesitated to go back there. But she did eventually manage to tear her eyes away from the monster outside, and slipped into the room while Mark and Dave argued and brandished weapons (in jest?) at one another.
Dodger only meant to lie down and rest for a few minutes, but she didn’t even remember getting to the point where she actually got onto one of the cots. It was simply as if she walked into the room, and immediate woke to the morning sun filtering through the small window. She sat up quickly, unable to believe her own stupidity. She was ready to swing her fists, but was surprised to find the room empty. Her bag was on the floor in the middle of the room, along with her baseball bat, where she had apparently dropped them the night before. She went for the bat first, holding it ready while she pushed open the door to the rest of the station. Mark and Dave were tangled up against a wall together, both snoring quietly.
“Wow,” Dodger said.
She wondered how long they’d kept up their argument the night before. She didn’t spend a long time wondering though, because something else was rumbling outside. A quick peek out the window was all it took to see Ugly outside, growling as it continued its constant circle around the shack.
“Well, crap.”
They were going to have to figure something out, and fast.
It turned out Mark was also pretty good with a slingshot, even though it was entirely useless. But after the first few hours of sitting around, waiting for the beast to leave, he apparently got bored enough to climb out onto the roof to fling stones out at it. It just pissed the monster off, but it didn’t seem to be able to climb, so Mark stayed up on the roof until he ran out of stones, shouting insults down at it every time he fired.
It didn’t leave after that. It didn’t leave that night, either. Or the next day. They had plenty of fire-roasted shark to see them through, but even a shark wasn’t going to last forever. Especially being shared amongst three people, rather than the two it had originally been for. But Dodger avoided calling attention to this, just in case they realised they’d be better off without her.
“So you guys like, own the beach, then?” she asked, watching the monster skulk through the sand out in the darkness. It had to get bored and leave eventually, right?
“From here to Del Rey, yeah,” Mark said. He was using his machete to carve out more slingshot ammo from a cupboard door. Mostly, he was just making a mess.
“Well, I guess that explains where you were last time.”
“You’re the first person we’ve seen in months,” Mark said.
Dodger knew she wasn’t the last. But she didn’t mention that, either. Dave didn’t know, and there was no reason to tell him.
“No, there was that one guy,” Dave offered.
“Zombies don’t count,” Mark said.
Dave shrugged. “He was still a guy.”
They started bickering over whether or not a zombie even counted as a “guy,” but Dodger didn’t bother joining in. She was tired. She hadn’t been getting any sleep while she was stuck in the tiny lifeguard shack, because the idea of sleeping with them around seemed like a supremely bad idea. But she had to get some rest before she passed out where she stood. There was a little bunk room toward the back of the building, which seemed like it was a place where they put people with heat stroke and jellyfish stings, once upon a time. Now, it was the room where she once almost died. The room where Mark had found her last time. There were a couple of cots, and even a blanket, and was generally comfortable, but she hesitated to go back there. But she did eventually manage to tear her eyes away from the monster outside, and slipped into the room while Mark and Dave argued and brandished weapons (in jest?) at one another.
Dodger only meant to lie down and rest for a few minutes, but she didn’t even remember getting to the point where she actually got onto one of the cots. It was simply as if she walked into the room, and immediate woke to the morning sun filtering through the small window. She sat up quickly, unable to believe her own stupidity. She was ready to swing her fists, but was surprised to find the room empty. Her bag was on the floor in the middle of the room, along with her baseball bat, where she had apparently dropped them the night before. She went for the bat first, holding it ready while she pushed open the door to the rest of the station. Mark and Dave were tangled up against a wall together, both snoring quietly.
“Wow,” Dodger said.
She wondered how long they’d kept up their argument the night before. She didn’t spend a long time wondering though, because something else was rumbling outside. A quick peek out the window was all it took to see Ugly outside, growling as it continued its constant circle around the shack.
“Well, crap.”
They were going to have to figure something out, and fast.
