Post by Wesker_fan on Apr 7, 2011 23:51:18 GMT -5
This is the intro to a story I just started writing. I've had the rough idea floating around in my head for about a year now, and I finally decided on a version of it I like. Hope you like it.
---
Oh shit.
The pavement of the road scraped against the right side of the jeep as it slid across the pockmarked cement road in a frenzy of sparks. The horrible sound hit me like a brick wall. My body flung to my right towards the ground with the momentum of the crash. My head flung out limply. Pain surged throughout my body as I heard my neck crack.
The roof of the jeep hit a rather large chunk of debris lying in the road. The jeep rolled over.
No more!
The metal roof of the car slammed into the ground, causing it to jut 4 inches towards my face, stopping just a small fraction of space away from my widened eyes.
The horrible sound was back. The jeep was now skidding on its roof. After a few more torturous seconds, the jeep slowed to a halt.
By some miracle, I felt mostly fine, considering the circumstances. I had a small cut across my right cheek, which stung against the dust that had been stirred up from the crash.
I checked my watch. It was 8 PM.
There had been a spike strip lain out on the road. No, it couldn’t be them--
"Got him!” A voice called out, sounding somewhat panicked. “We need to get out of here! They've gotta be about right behind us now!"
The words “Right behind us” registered in my brain. My stomach sank.
My gaze swung to my right in panic. Instant pain tore up and down my neck in a single tight wave. I had hurt my neck pretty badly in the crash. Still wincing in pain, I fumbled for my radio. My hand found the microphone. I brought it up to my mouth, panting with panic.
"Outpost 3, this is Echo Delta! They flipped my jeep--" I cut off mid-sentence as I saw the radio, smashed to pieces. I froze for a second, as the realization of my situation sunk in.
I snapped back to reality and edged my gaze over to my left so I could look towards the source of the voices. I saw three men armed with AK-47s quickly walking towards me, except one who was limping. The one in the front of the group was talking on a walkie talkie. They couldn’t have been more than 100 feet away from me. A narrow alley was on their left, blocked off by a wooden fence.
How am I going to get out of this?
I undid my seat belt, catching myself with my right elbow as I went to the ground. Hurriedly, I dragged myself out of the shattered window on the opposite sides of the jeep that the attackers were on. A small piece of glass cut me on the top of my hand, but I didn’t have time to care. I lifted myself to my feet, ignoring my aching body. Thinking quickly, I put my hand on the grip of my uzi, which was holstered on my right side, and prepared myself to make a dash towards a nearby alley, about 20 feet away from the middle of the road where I was.
Sweat dripped down my chin. I braced myself to sprint.
But right before I began the suicide attempt, the sound of splintering wood shot through the air. This was followed by screams and gunshots. I peered over the bottom of the overturned jeep and saw 20 human-like creatures pouring out of a destroyed wooden picket fence that had been covering up an alley. The men turned and opened fire at them, but it was already too late. They were too close. The bullets ripped through the horrible monsters. The ones hit through areas vital for movement went down, but the rest did everything they could to keep moving.
The monsters hated people. Despised them.
Rushing out of the newly unblocked alleyway, they leapt over the one that had taken out the fence, now impaled on a beam of wood. The mob collectively tackled the three men and brought them down instantly. They then went on to doing everything they could do to make the men into a bloody pulp. Some bit, some punched, some strangled, and some grabbed pieces of debris and beat them. They all let out a collective cry that I’m not sure how to describe. A mix of pure rage and utter delight that sounded like a laughing scream of hatred.
I need to get out of here.
I made a mad dash down the road, away from the horrors. They noticed me immediately. They all stopped their work they were doing on the men who had flipped my jeep, and ceased their blood-curdling cries all at once, the emotion fading quickly out of their pale faces. They all broke into a sprint all at once. Right at me.
I ran for dear life.
---
Oh shit.
The pavement of the road scraped against the right side of the jeep as it slid across the pockmarked cement road in a frenzy of sparks. The horrible sound hit me like a brick wall. My body flung to my right towards the ground with the momentum of the crash. My head flung out limply. Pain surged throughout my body as I heard my neck crack.
The roof of the jeep hit a rather large chunk of debris lying in the road. The jeep rolled over.
No more!
The metal roof of the car slammed into the ground, causing it to jut 4 inches towards my face, stopping just a small fraction of space away from my widened eyes.
The horrible sound was back. The jeep was now skidding on its roof. After a few more torturous seconds, the jeep slowed to a halt.
By some miracle, I felt mostly fine, considering the circumstances. I had a small cut across my right cheek, which stung against the dust that had been stirred up from the crash.
I checked my watch. It was 8 PM.
There had been a spike strip lain out on the road. No, it couldn’t be them--
"Got him!” A voice called out, sounding somewhat panicked. “We need to get out of here! They've gotta be about right behind us now!"
The words “Right behind us” registered in my brain. My stomach sank.
My gaze swung to my right in panic. Instant pain tore up and down my neck in a single tight wave. I had hurt my neck pretty badly in the crash. Still wincing in pain, I fumbled for my radio. My hand found the microphone. I brought it up to my mouth, panting with panic.
"Outpost 3, this is Echo Delta! They flipped my jeep--" I cut off mid-sentence as I saw the radio, smashed to pieces. I froze for a second, as the realization of my situation sunk in.
I snapped back to reality and edged my gaze over to my left so I could look towards the source of the voices. I saw three men armed with AK-47s quickly walking towards me, except one who was limping. The one in the front of the group was talking on a walkie talkie. They couldn’t have been more than 100 feet away from me. A narrow alley was on their left, blocked off by a wooden fence.
How am I going to get out of this?
I undid my seat belt, catching myself with my right elbow as I went to the ground. Hurriedly, I dragged myself out of the shattered window on the opposite sides of the jeep that the attackers were on. A small piece of glass cut me on the top of my hand, but I didn’t have time to care. I lifted myself to my feet, ignoring my aching body. Thinking quickly, I put my hand on the grip of my uzi, which was holstered on my right side, and prepared myself to make a dash towards a nearby alley, about 20 feet away from the middle of the road where I was.
Sweat dripped down my chin. I braced myself to sprint.
But right before I began the suicide attempt, the sound of splintering wood shot through the air. This was followed by screams and gunshots. I peered over the bottom of the overturned jeep and saw 20 human-like creatures pouring out of a destroyed wooden picket fence that had been covering up an alley. The men turned and opened fire at them, but it was already too late. They were too close. The bullets ripped through the horrible monsters. The ones hit through areas vital for movement went down, but the rest did everything they could to keep moving.
The monsters hated people. Despised them.
Rushing out of the newly unblocked alleyway, they leapt over the one that had taken out the fence, now impaled on a beam of wood. The mob collectively tackled the three men and brought them down instantly. They then went on to doing everything they could do to make the men into a bloody pulp. Some bit, some punched, some strangled, and some grabbed pieces of debris and beat them. They all let out a collective cry that I’m not sure how to describe. A mix of pure rage and utter delight that sounded like a laughing scream of hatred.
I need to get out of here.
I made a mad dash down the road, away from the horrors. They noticed me immediately. They all stopped their work they were doing on the men who had flipped my jeep, and ceased their blood-curdling cries all at once, the emotion fading quickly out of their pale faces. They all broke into a sprint all at once. Right at me.
I ran for dear life.