𝑨 𝑯𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑴𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒅𝒚. (𝒏𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒏)

{3} Guns, Knives And...Tigers?

"I am a fucking gentleman"

•••

No one had ever imagined that the dead would roam the earth. It was the sort of thing that you'd see in those gruesome horror movies or that boring novel that you'd have to read in your literature class in high school.

Most people thought that the random guy who would stand on the busy street corner holding a cardboard sign and yelling 'it's the end of the world' was crazy. Yet now, it seemed like the civilians rushing past and ignoring him were the crazy ones.

Brooklyn had never forgotten about her experience of when the outbreak first hit, she wished she could forget, but the memory never seemed to fade.

She was comfortably sat in her pristine wheelie chair in a recording studio that she visited on a regular basis. A large grin had possessed her lips as she whistled contently to a new song she'd just created through the padded headphones.

Yet her smile had faltered when a loud shriek reverberated from outside. With a swift jump to her feet, Brooklyn scurried towards the exit of the nicely furnished building and threw the door open, revealing a severely injured woman.

The woman had wispy red hair and inflamed, bloodshot eyes. Her skin was cadaverous with bright purple veins bulging at the surface, "Please help me," she desperately begged, her hands quivering in pure shock.

With an immediate response, Brooklyn beckoned the shaking woman in, her eyes widening as she noticed what looked like a large bloody wound situated on the crane of her neck.

"What the hell happened?"

That's all Brooklyn had remembered saying until the feeble lady that had previously been stood there, collapsed on the spot. She rushed over to her and carefully knelt down by her side, placing an ear to her chest, "Holy shit..."

The woman was dead, her heart beat non-existent.

Not knowing what to do, Brooklyn scrambled to her feet and hurried back in to the studio to dial 911.

Each time she replayed the image of this particular memory where the bleeping of the phone occurred, Brooklyn's head pounded, the awful ear piercing sound repeating itself over and over.

"Hello? Hello? Please I need an ambulance or cops or something- I don't know but seriously I need help!" She babbled, scrunching up her hair with sweaty fists, "no I don't care how busy you are! There is a woman in the middle of my recording studio, covered in blood with some weird mark on her neck!"

In anger, she tossed the small flip phone against the wall, watching it smash in to little pieces on to the carpet.

A sinister growl occurred from behind her, causing the girl to immediately spin around and unknowingly come face to face with her very first roamer. It's eyes were rolled to the back of its head, consumed by a milky white colour. With blood dripping from it's gnarled jaw, it snapped it's teeth, letting out a blood curdling groan as it lurched hungrily towards her.

"What the-"

That's all it had took. From that very day, Brooklyn had become a different person. No longer was she the quiet, innocent girl that sang all day and hung out with her friends. Instead she was an ass-kicking fighter, determined to survive this broken world with or without anyone there to help her.

She was a warrior.

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Jolting her body upwards, Brooklyn grumbled, her whole face and body drenched with sweat. She knew that horrific memory would never fade, no matter how hard she tried, it would stick with her forever.