The Barricade

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Blood dribbled onto the concrete, leaving a fairly obvious trail to anyone with living braincells but at the moment the girl didn't care. Soft skin that once was a warm mocha color now was sickly pale as her life force was draining out of her in the color of dark crimson. A buzzard squawked up in the dismal gray sky as it circled her, each rustle of its wings made her jump and cast a weary, scared look up at the creature tormenting her, making her think it was one of those 'Angels' coming to finish her off for good. She had witnessed her 'brothers' being torn apart and eaten by those... those monsters. It had been brutal to witness, for she had not been in the lab when the scientists committed mass suicide on her behalf. She had managed to get her wits about her a little too late, one of the zombies had bitten her arm.

She had two wounds now and was bleeding out despite her attempts to staunch and tie off the wounds, she had managed to reach the barricade before dark. She knew what lurked in the darkness and she couldn't fight off those spider creatures even if she was in tip top shape. She gripped the metal handle to the door, with a bit of a struggle, she pushed open the door before stumbling into the dimly light room. Slamming the door shut behind her and locking it in place she made her way to what she considered home, she had taken up residence here in this safe room. She limped over to the military issue cot and slumped down, looking down at the wounds with uncertainty. She was in a slightly dazed state for a moment, not bothering to get up to retrieve her med-kit. Faced with death, there was only one thing she wanted to do and that was to cry.

She curled up on the cot, not caring if she stained the sheets with her blood and dirt from her clothes. Katten yearned for arms to wrap around her and tell her everything was going to be alright. But the cold reality was colder than the concrete floor below her, nothing was ever going to be alright again. One weak hand reached to her pocket in her baggy jeans, tugging out a worn and fold scrap of paper. Slowly and painfully, she took care in unfolding the thick paper to reveal it had been a photograph of a man. He seemed in his mid-twenties, rectangular glasses with a scruff of a goatee. He was smiling in the picture as he held a manila folder open with gentle hands, it had been a clipping from a brochure for Cygroup Ventures. She knew the man though for he had been made her 'father' before she left, now she felt regret, before she held no emotions but this rough life and facing death had brought them out. What she wouldn't give to just have one last hug...