#feop

          “ Keep ‘em coming! ” Savannah grinned. The bloater right in front of her, her whole body feeling as a bag of ants running up and down it. The adrenaline, the thrill. How many times had she been put to face death like this? For a second, a shadow mirrored what once were Xavier’s position as the dark haired girl danced in a fight against the dead.             The alcohol bombs played it cool. It confused the bloater. Lexie and her, after such little time, they had found something on each other. Savannah was unsure to tell what the brunette could have find on such bird bones as hers but would definitely agree with every thought of the brunette being one of the strongests pillars of this community. Community. What did Sav know from communities?

             She was usually a one focus girl but the long day had been enough to distract her. Her ankle cracked. It could have been worse but it caught her off guard and she hit the floor. The rage of the beast found her when she screamed, way more angry than hurt, when she put her foot on the floor again. One hit and Savannah remembered what pain Stephanie used to suffer from. 

             One last bomb hit the bloater.

             Confused, Savannah watched him fall with one last agony scream and felt shivers down her spine. Then, as if he had been the lowest instrument of this Wagner’s theme and it was Russian’s time, the clickers showed up as in Tchaikovsky’s Swan’s Lake; in groups of four. The girl glanced over the furniture, inclined against a wall.              Lexie was behind that barricade, trying to come to her. And the dark haired girl smiled at the sight of her conflicted face. The clickers were quicker and easily sorted it out: the running sounds, people trying to move each other, coming from behind. Even Lexie was loud, trying to make her come back.           “ Shut up and run! ” Savannah threw right at her one and only companion, now. “ Meet me outside! ”  And as if it was poetry, the man who was with her seemed to understand as she fired her last bullets.                                                                  ***

           They came in at 14:12 pm. In less than a half hour or so, the monsters had made another hell out of an utopic heaven. Savannah’s stupid clock said it was 14:56 pm. The sun was shining in its most idyllic way, as if he couldn’t foreshadow the horror that was left behind her. Dexter didn’t show up, so he was most likely dead. Pressumably dead. Savannah was now left alone: not an only answer, not a solid way of survival (since she was left without bullets and had fiven the male her knife). And lord only knew how hard it had been to get away from the damn clickers that isolated her again. Apollo graced her with a solid midday shadow on the flor her hurt ankle scratched as her new adcquired limp screamed to be recognised. Savannah was not one to heal. Her red scarf, made by the only familiar she would admit she ever had, was teared, such as her clothes.              But she kept walking, born back to her endless solitude.