Chapter Text
Charlie stared down at the ground below him. He gripped the bat in his hand, trying to figure out what the next course of action would be. The constant pounding of the door to the rooftop matched the beat of his heart, and he tried not to break down right there.
Zombies circled the building. They were rushing through the doors, following the others up the stairs and to the door he had barricaded with the plywood he found lying on the roof top. It wouldn’t hold them back forever. He could already make out the soft splintering sound of the wood straining to keep the door closed. He’d be ambushed in less than five minutes.
Charlie swallowed, letting his gaze move haphazardly around the city square. He was alone. His group was small, and were all camping out in a suburban house for the moment. Charlie had volunteered to go look for supplies; he was the fastest, after all, and was able to sneak in a way that the others were envious of. Well, most of the time he could sneak. The groaning of the zombies said otherwise.
“Fuck,” he muttered. The worst part is that he actually found some good loot for once. Food, medicine, water. All of it was in his pack, and he’d die before he could bring it back to his group. A failure, in the end.
No, Charlie thought, smothering the thoughts. He didn’t have time for the pity party. He needed to survive, at least long enough to bring the supplies back to his group.
His eyes caught the fire escape, and raced to it. He looked down, and met the eyes of a very hungry zombie that was climbing up to meet him. It was only one, thankfully, and Charlie smothered the yelp he wanted to let out. He smacked the zombie with his bat, cracking it over the skull. It whizzed down into the crowd of zombies below.
He bit his lip. This was his only way down, but, it was obviously not safe. He’d might as well give himself over the zombies now. There was no way he’d make it through the mob down below. Charlie could feel tears pricking in his eyes, his breathing becoming shallower. The groaning behind him grew more animalistic, the crack of the wood snapping causing him to let out a sob.
And then there was a noise. Loud, and grating on Charlie's ears. He jumped at sound, and looked toward the source, and saw a figure on a motorcycle. They were big, but the helmet covered their head, obscuring their face. They revved the motorcycle, and Charlie watched as the mob turned towards the noise. The figure’s head looked up, toward Charlie. The person flipped up their visor, and Charlie could just make out the person winking at him before they flipped the visor back down, revving the bike again.
The zombies fell on top of each other trying to get to the figure. They were the slow kind of lot, which Charlie was forever grateful for. He watched as the person turned around their motorcycle, cruising away at a slow pace. The zombies followed. All of them.
Charlie grinned as the person turned the corner, the zombies quick to do the same. The block was cleared out quickly. The mob had forgotten about him.
Charlie swallowed, sending a silent thank you to whoever had decided to save his ass, before he swung onto the fire escape, running down it at a breakneck speed. He almost tripped along the way, but he found his feet quickly enough. He touched the ground just as he heard the door to the rooftop slam open, the mass of bodies toppling out the door.
Charlie didn’t wait around. He ran away, opposite of the motorcycle and the angel that rode it. He clutched the bat to his chest, and hoped he could make it home without any more problems.