Level 1.2A Chapter by Church
Jim goes to get transportation while his campus is eerily quiet.
The only sounds he could hear was his own breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. It was pure luck that this was drowning out any ambient noises. The screams alone would have chilled him to the bone. The moaning would have probably stopped him completely.
There was nothing in Jim’s line of sight as he leapt down the last section of the stairs. Eyes darting, he tried to make sure another infected didn’t suddenly spring out in front of him. Seeing nothing, he began to run towards the quad.
He knew how stupid it was to run towards the quad. That was the place of highest traffic in the campus. It was also the center of campus, while his dorm was on the edge. But, that was where his bike was. He could simply steal someone else’s, but the university had given out bike locks with titanium lining to keep anyone from cutting through it. What would have been a help was now a huge hindrance.
But, he didn’t see anything. He passed the building dividing his dorm from the quad, Delyser Hall, without incident. Not a soul was out, aside from the first infected that he had run into. Had everyone already evacuated? He hadn’t looked at any of the other bike racks or the parking lot. Maybe he was late?
Running around one of the corners of Delyser Hall, he swore. A group of what he assumed to be infected were chasing another group of survivors. Running across the quad, the survivors ran to the library, barring it’s doors after they entered. The infected slammed against the door and began to pound against it, slowly starting to create cracks in the tempered glass.
The bike rack wasn’t far. Ignoring the infected attacking the library, Jim ran to the bike rack and bent down to fiddle with the bike lock. His fingers shaking, he messed up the combination the first time and had to resist swearing again. No extra noises. He couldn’t mess this up.
Unlocking the bike, he jumped to his feet. He pulled his bike away from the bike rack just as a scream pierced the air. Jim’s eyes widened as he looked up to see one of the infected that had been previously attacking the library turning to face him. It began to run at a full sprint at him.
Hastily, Jim pulled the crowbar out of his makeshift holster and flipped it so that he was holding the straight end. Stepping away from the bike rack, he settled into a baseball stance and got ready to swing.
Just as the infected neared him, Jim took a step forward and swung. The point of the crowbar connected with the infected man’s head and dug into his scalp. It screamed in pain again as it fell to the ground. Wrenching the crowbar our of the infected’s head, Jim swung again and again, this time making sure the blunt side smashed into it’s head.
He only stopped when the infected stopped moving. He wiped the blood from it off on the grass before looking up. The blood beating in his ears was still the loudest sound in the area for him, so he hadn’t noticed that the infected had stopped pounding on the doors to the library and were now staring straight at him. One of them screamed.
Jim didn’t wait.
He had already hopped on his bike and began pedaling away as fast as he could, crowbar still in hand.
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