“Holy shit, man. What the fuck is going on out there?” A boy around seventeen says. His friend, about the same age, shakes his head in the negative. They are both staring out of the window of an abandoned warehouse watching as a group of people, or used to be people, tackle a helpless deer.
“They’re fucking Zombies, you idiots.” Both boys turn around, nearly falling into each other. They see a girl, a little older than them, staring them down. She’s wearing a torn, black Rolling Stones shirt, ripped jeans and old black converses. Her hair is in a messy pony-tail and she’s carrying a ratty tan backpack. They’re terrified.
“Who the fuck are you?” The first boy asks. She rolls her eyes and steps closer.
“The name’s Colorado,” she answers. “And for the sake of not caring about your real names, I’ll give you the name Buzz for that ridiculous haircut and you’re friend over there, Weepy since he looks like he’s going to shit his pants out of fear in any second.”
Buzz looks at her like she’s insane. “Again, who are you?”
“I’m your savior, you asswipe. Now, in a few minutes, those Zombies are going to burst through this warehouse and eat your fucking brains out. If you want to keep that useless organ of yours, then you’re going to listen to me.”
“We don’t have to listen to you. You’re a chick.”
“If I didn’t have a shred of a heart left, then I would have thrown you out there myself. I’ll give you another chance,” Colorado says and pushes the two boys out of the way. She peers out of the window and turns back to them.
“Do you want to be like that deer?” Colorado asks and Buzz and Weepy look out the window and see the Zombies feasting on the animal’s intestines.
“Thought so.” Colorado smiles. “Now listen to me and listen to me carefully because I’m only explaining this shit once. In situations like these there is no time for repeating things.”
Buzz and Weepy nod.
“Okay. As you can see, we’re under attack by Zombies. How? I don’t know exactly. It’s probably some chemical spill in the water or some shit. Either way, we’re fucked. There are some rules that need to be followed and to a fucking t.”
Buzz and Weepy nod again.
“Rule number 1: You are not safe. EVER. Rule number 2: Don’t be a fucking hero. If Weepy over here trips, you leave his ass and don’t look back.”
Weepy looks like he might cry.
“Rule number 3: Trust no one.”
“Trust no one?” Buzz says, disbelieving. “Then why are we listening to you?”
“You want to survive don’t you?” Colorado says.
“Yeah, but how do I know that you’re not going to blow my brains out or something?”
“Well that’s just a risk you’re going to have to take, now isn’t it?”
Buzz is annoyed.
“Rule number 4: Check the back seat. Always check the back seat.”
“You have a car?” Buzz asks.
“And you have a lot of fucking questions,” Colorado says and Buzz shuts up. This bitch is crazy. “And yes, I have a car. How do you expect us to outrun them?”
Before Buzz can say anything, Colorado throws something toward him. He briefly remembers those years he played baseball as a catcher and caught the object. He nearly pisses himself when he realizes it’s a gun. She throws one at Weepy and he fumbles with it, but it eventually stills in his hands. Buzz can’t find the courage to ask where she managed to find three guns.
“Those are for the final rule: Always aim for the head.” Colorado cocks her gun and starts walking toward the back of the warehouse.
“Well, are you fucktards coming or are you going to wait for the Zombies to eat you for a snack. I mean, either is fine with me.” She doesn’t wait for an answer and continues to walk toward the back.
Buzz and Weepy glance at each other and then outside where it looks like the Zombies are finishing. They look back where Colorado was last standing and see that she’s almost out of the back door.