Post by Seamus Dunn on Aug 17, 2018 0:09:02 GMT -5
The midday air was thick with the smell of decay as Seamus made his way across the overpass to the Rye-Harrison Animal Hospital. The dozen or so walkers down on the I-95 feasted on something that he couldn't make out, whether it was one of the many feral dogs in the area, or some stranger who chose to make a go at walking the wreck clogged highway. His stomach groaned, the thought of food keeping him going. Keeping alert, he knew that the packs of feral dogs in the area were as hungry as him. "Walkers are easier, dogs are hellspawn" he thought to himself. Walkers were stupid and slow, dogs on the other hand, were smart and driven, didn't help that they hunted in packs.
Making his way to the building, he was relieved to see the door ajar, but anxious that someone else had beaten him to whatever dog food the place may contain. Holding his pitch fork in a defensive position, he steadily made his way inside to the waiting room.
The inside was littered with paper strewn across the floor, a large bird cage held the skeletal remains of what could have been a parrot. Behind the receptionist desk, heard the sound of flesh ripping, along with the distinct grunting of a walker.
Hoping the thing was occupied with its meal enough that it wouldn't notice him, Seamus crept into the back rooms, and slipped opened a door that read "Employees only" hoping it was a supply closet. He let out a whispered "Yes!" upon entering the room.
He had hit the jack pot. There were three small bags of dry dog food, enough to last him at least a month, in addition to several cans of dog food, and untouched by botulism no less. Opening one of the bags, he ate a few of the dried kibbles and bits, savoring the precious sustenance, chasing it with a swig of water from his canteen. As he closed the bag and put it, along with three of the cans, in his backpack, the sound a sniffing and the clack of animal nails the linoleum lobby floors caught his attention. "Feral!!" He thought in a panic, and he closed the closet door in a half decent attempt to stay quiet. The sniffing stopped, followed by the sound of growls as what sounded like a big dog made its way to the door, scratching at it, barking for the rest of it's pack. Seamus pulled out his revolver. He was a terrible shot, but now was when he needed his gun. Whether to die fighting, or take the easy way out. He braved himself for what was to come.
It was then that the walker behind the receptionist counter noticed the dog, and with a moan, banged it's way into the hallway, and began to shamble it's way towards the feral.
The animal let out a terrified whimper. It may have been more cunning that the walker, but the walker did not know fear, something that all living creatures had to stay alive.
The feral fled the vets office, the walker mindlessly following it oit side into the morning air.
Seamus waited a full hour before opening the door. It was during the time that the victim behind the counter reanimated. Seamus opened the door the closet door, and quickly closed the entrance door, letting out a sigh of relief when it locked with a click. He turned his attention to the newly reanimated walker. It looked about thirty, with an unshaven beard and filthy hair, its mechanics coveral ripped open, its intestines hanging out.
Letting out a moan, it tried to reach over the counter at him. Equipping his pitch fork, Seamusic swiftly stabbed the creature in the left eye, it's body going limp as whatever kept it walking left it's body.
As he pulled the weapon out, the now dead walker fell face first on the counter, then slumped down onto the floor.
Getting ready to leave, Seamus took notice of the walker from earlier. She looked like she may have been a vet at this very office, her dirty, blood covered lab coat being a strong indicator. She had caught the feral in the end, somehow. It was a golden retriever-poodle mix, it's coat stained with blood as the walker feasted on its corpse.
He snuck out of the front door, being careful not to be noticed by the otherwise occupied walker. It seemed like life since the outbreak first happend had been nothing but a series of close call, he thought to himself.
Making his way back over the overpass, the walkers from earlier were once again wandering around aimlessly, a pool of drying blood and a battered roller bag was all that remained of their earlier victim.
Making his way to his car in the parking lot of a burned out gas station, he unlocked the car door, opened it, hopped into the driver's seat, and promptly closed the door again. Opening his pack, he retrived a can of dog food, and enjoyed a decent meal for the first time in almost two weeks, chuckling to himself in manic joy.
Making his way to the building, he was relieved to see the door ajar, but anxious that someone else had beaten him to whatever dog food the place may contain. Holding his pitch fork in a defensive position, he steadily made his way inside to the waiting room.
The inside was littered with paper strewn across the floor, a large bird cage held the skeletal remains of what could have been a parrot. Behind the receptionist desk, heard the sound of flesh ripping, along with the distinct grunting of a walker.
Hoping the thing was occupied with its meal enough that it wouldn't notice him, Seamus crept into the back rooms, and slipped opened a door that read "Employees only" hoping it was a supply closet. He let out a whispered "Yes!" upon entering the room.
He had hit the jack pot. There were three small bags of dry dog food, enough to last him at least a month, in addition to several cans of dog food, and untouched by botulism no less. Opening one of the bags, he ate a few of the dried kibbles and bits, savoring the precious sustenance, chasing it with a swig of water from his canteen. As he closed the bag and put it, along with three of the cans, in his backpack, the sound a sniffing and the clack of animal nails the linoleum lobby floors caught his attention. "Feral!!" He thought in a panic, and he closed the closet door in a half decent attempt to stay quiet. The sniffing stopped, followed by the sound of growls as what sounded like a big dog made its way to the door, scratching at it, barking for the rest of it's pack. Seamus pulled out his revolver. He was a terrible shot, but now was when he needed his gun. Whether to die fighting, or take the easy way out. He braved himself for what was to come.
It was then that the walker behind the receptionist counter noticed the dog, and with a moan, banged it's way into the hallway, and began to shamble it's way towards the feral.
The animal let out a terrified whimper. It may have been more cunning that the walker, but the walker did not know fear, something that all living creatures had to stay alive.
The feral fled the vets office, the walker mindlessly following it oit side into the morning air.
Seamus waited a full hour before opening the door. It was during the time that the victim behind the counter reanimated. Seamus opened the door the closet door, and quickly closed the entrance door, letting out a sigh of relief when it locked with a click. He turned his attention to the newly reanimated walker. It looked about thirty, with an unshaven beard and filthy hair, its mechanics coveral ripped open, its intestines hanging out.
Letting out a moan, it tried to reach over the counter at him. Equipping his pitch fork, Seamusic swiftly stabbed the creature in the left eye, it's body going limp as whatever kept it walking left it's body.
As he pulled the weapon out, the now dead walker fell face first on the counter, then slumped down onto the floor.
Getting ready to leave, Seamus took notice of the walker from earlier. She looked like she may have been a vet at this very office, her dirty, blood covered lab coat being a strong indicator. She had caught the feral in the end, somehow. It was a golden retriever-poodle mix, it's coat stained with blood as the walker feasted on its corpse.
He snuck out of the front door, being careful not to be noticed by the otherwise occupied walker. It seemed like life since the outbreak first happend had been nothing but a series of close call, he thought to himself.
Making his way back over the overpass, the walkers from earlier were once again wandering around aimlessly, a pool of drying blood and a battered roller bag was all that remained of their earlier victim.
Making his way to his car in the parking lot of a burned out gas station, he unlocked the car door, opened it, hopped into the driver's seat, and promptly closed the door again. Opening his pack, he retrived a can of dog food, and enjoyed a decent meal for the first time in almost two weeks, chuckling to himself in manic joy.