Some people resorted to jumping into the ocean, that’s how bad it got, they would rather take their chances with the rough seas and vacuum of the ship’s propellers than be eaten alive.
Tristan, running ahead of him, unknowingly ran straight into three of them and before he even had the chance to escape their clutches, they pulled him down.
Kunal and one other man pounced in to help, but those chasing them caught up and tackled them. Kunal and this other man were so busy wrestling their own assailants off, that neither could help Tristan. Even when he managed to tackle his assailant off and smash its face in with a fire extinguisher, it was already too late for Tristan, he had been skinned alive, blood everywhere.
It was horrific, Kunal just stood there helplessly watching the scene unfold, eventually his screaming ceasing as they tore apart his throat. The other man who had also escaped, quite literally had to drag Kunal away, so paralysed was he by the sight of his best friend’s horrific ordeal.
Fast forward and here they were running through the open plaza with several other survivors, Kunal with a new sense of vigour and the will to kill anyone who attacked, something he had never done in his life, surprisingly easy to accept when blinded with fury, sadness and the determination to survive.
People both infected and not were dropping from the balconies above like flies, hitting the ground with a sickening thud, some shattering bones and unable to move, others hitting the floor head first, splattering blood everywhere. Infected still managed to move even without limbs and or a head, one in particular without his entire lower torso. Didn’t these things fucking die?
Kunal took the fire extinguisher that he had made his makeshift weapon of choice and struck the twitching lower body-less infected to the skull as it reached out for them, before leaping over it. More bodies dropped to the ground like raindrops, some smashing through glass ceilings, others through stalls.
Kunal and the others navigated their way throughout the corpse littered plaza, a contrasted scene to that of yesterday when it was filled with people relaxing, having picnics and drinking.
Suddenly from the doors leading out onto the plaza, poured twitching crazies sprinting towards them.
“We’re exposed here! Go, go, go!” One of the survivors shouted. They took off sprinting towards one of the open doors towards the other end of the plaza and dashed through it, throwing and pulling down anything they could muster to obstruct the path of their pursuers and slow them down, from bins to vending machines.
They poured into the bowling alley, still pursued by twitching crazies, attracting more as they fled, jumping up from behind desks screaming and covered in blood.
Kunal and others grabbed bowling balls and threw them. One hit a twitcher in the face, knocking it down on its back.
“Strike, motherfucker!” Kunal cheered, before continuing his run. Pressing on, they came to the arcades, passing by various popular retro machines. How fucking ironic; if only they could make use of those light guns now.
They then made their way through a casino, passing by all the blinking, noise making machines, before reaching an exit that would with some luck lead them through the cafeteria and eventually up to the bridge, but first it would seem they had quite a battle on their hands, for before them stood several twitchers blocking their path.
“We only go forward! Drive straight through them and protect the weakest among us!” Kunal instructed. They charged forward, the only direction to go now, the only direction that made sense any more.
3:16pm - 8 hours, 29 minutes since outbreak in London.
2 hours, 6 minutes since outbreak aboard MS HotS.
Christine squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears, she wanted neither to see the grisly scenes unfolding before her, or hear any more of the screaming. She silently repeated her prayers, praying for God to protect her, shield her from the devil. She wept and prayed, prayed some more and wept, her whole body shaking like a leaf. She didn’t want to die. She had always convinced herself that if it was God’s will, she would be content with death in any of its forms, but faced with such a horrific way to die now, she’d go back on that, she didn’t want to die, not like this.
“Please”, she whispered, “please, lord, please”.
Her palms were sweaty, she could quite literally hear the thump of her own heart and the fear of being killed overwhelmed her more than anything she could imagine. If she had to stay in this spot forever, she’d do that. It would take a miracle to move her from this spot.
There she remained for what felt like hours until a hand touched her shoulder, naturally her immediate reaction was to freak out. She thrashed like never before and held up her rosary beads in hopes that she could ward away the evil.
Even as a soft voice attempted to calm her down, panic and terror had set in so much so, that the person quite literally had to subdue her in order to calm her down, even then she downright refused to open her eyes and couldn't stop hyperventilating.
“Christine, shh, otherwise you’ll attract more of those twitchers, it’s me, calm down, open your eyes”.
She knew this voice, but it wasn’t that that eventually compelled her to open her eyes, it was the thought that if she were to die, she might as well see the face of the devil himself, instead, staring back at her was God’s most precious angel. Tears welled up in her eyes and she
