When the feces make contact with the rotating oscillator and you’re up to your armpits in undead annoyances, your options are somewhat…limited. You can’t run away screaming like a little girl. Well, okay, you can but that’s not gonna work. Sure, the bastards are pretty damned slow; that’s not the issue. The problem comes in where do you run to and what do you do when you get there? If you head back to the base camp and the best story you got is everybody got killed and you didn’t have any choice…that may just work.
More likely than not, though, just about the time you get a cold shower and some colder food inside you, things will get real interesting. One of the guys you threw to the metaphorical wolves will come stumbling back in, covered in gore and screaming out what a punk you were to abandon them. If that’s how things go down, trust me, you’d have been better off to have just stayed out there, plopped down with an apple in your mouth, and let the walkers serve you up as a tasty entrée. That’s not a real appealing option either, by the way.
No, what happens is you knuckle down and fight like a sumbitch. You need to focus on making every shot count and making sure you always keep one in reserve in case…aww, let’s face it, for when things get terminal. Life…it’s a game nobody wins anyway, so good luck with that, eh?
This story was written for the 2nd Anniversary of the #ThursThreads flash fiction challenge phrase prompt: you need to focus.