The barricades collapsed and the shambling hoard flooded the building. Most of us were killed in the ensuing panic, but Julie and I made it to the roof before the undead got to us.
So here we are.
On the roof.
Locked away from our guns.
Our food and clean water supply.
And the CB radio we’d used to communicate with the kids who’d sealed themselves away, behind the heavy stone walls of the university.
But I still have my pistol.
Two bullets left.
I love you, Julie.
I hope those kids fare better than we did.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Labels: 100 words, Drabble, Horror, Short story, Zombies
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