Tristan
Fenway Park is a massive stadium, a combination of old-fashioned brick walls with rusted, green beams. As Rebecca, the package, and I make our way toward the entrance, I can't help but notice all the abandoned military vehicles and knocked-over fences everywhere.
"You said this was a shelter before," the package asks, examining a run-down, rusted military truck. The wheels are flat and decay, the windows are all broken and shattered, and the tarp that covered the back is ripped and torn.
"Yeah," Rebecca replies. "The first few years when the chimera invasion started, the military told us to gather here. We grabbed whatever we could and carried it here."
Stepping over a metal fence, we reach the entrance and walk past some booths. Careful not to make too much noise as we walk through a maze of long, dark, empty hallways, Rebecca and my lighter being our only guide, we eventually reach the seating area, and beyond that, the fiel
To everyone who is reading this and had been to Fenway Park, I am sorry if I describe it wrong. I have never been to Fenway Park, and my only source is Google Map. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you very much.
Tristan: "Come on," I cry, shaking my gun all over and firing. "Come on. Come on!" Shooting another bullet, this bullet hit the infected woman in the back, stunning her and giving me the opportunity I need. Pushing the infected off of me, I shoot it in the head, killing it, before facing the hoard. "Damn it!" I slam my free hand on the bottom of my pistol and start firing every bullet I have left in this pistol into the hoard. Killing a bunch of the infected and hurting a few more, I stop when I start to hear clicking sounds instead of gunfire. "Empty." Despite all the infected I killed, there are still too many to fight head-on. Tossing my gun and hitting an infected right in the head, I then turn around and start to run again. Running through the maze of tents, picking whichever direction I think is best, I finally reach what looks like the spot where I split from Rebecca and Bailey. "Home base," I tell mysel
Tristan:"Shit," I say when I hear another infected. Making out some cover in the darkness, I grab Rebecca and Bailey and pull the two toward it. The covering, apparently some trashcans, I throw the two behind it before joining them on the floor."Shh," I whisper, pointing at the dark as the infected snarl again. Thankfully, it's only one infected. Through the darkness, I can see it come close to us. Running for a bit before stopping, it drops to its knee and starts hitting the floor. Pounding the floor over and over with its fists, a rat comes out from a hole in the wall. It scurries across the floor for a bit before the infected reaches out and grabs it.Biting down and ripping out a chunk of meat, it starts to eat."Stay here," I whisper, carefully getting up. Getting up to my knees, I stay low and peek over the trashcan. The infected is facing us, but it's looking down, completely focus on the rat in its hand. Checking to make sure it
Tristan: Literally seeing a light at the end of a dark tunnel, I look behind one last time to make sure there aren't any infected to ruin the moments. The three of us emerging from the dark hallway enter what I'm guessing was the parking lot for when the military was here. There are a bunch of military vehicles, mostly jeeps and hummers, around us. What tires aren't missing are either slash or are just out of air, and all the vehicles have their hoods up, meaning the military must have stripped them of their parts before moving to the bunkers. "Holy hell," Bailey says, panting through her masks as we walk away from the dark hallway. "That was intense." "You think," I ask, resting my hands on my knees as I look around. It's pitch-black now. The sun is gone and the moon and stars are covering the night sky above. Despite how quiet everything sounds, how there isn't even the sound of the wind, I know better. "Come on," I say, str
Bailey: Yawning as I stretch my limbs, I hear my bones crack while realigning themselves. Tilting my head and cracking my neck, I turn back to Tristan as he shuts the doors to the hummer. Loading the empty tin cans into his backpack, he tosses it onto his back and looks at Rebecca and me. "Are you two ready," he asks. "For a day of non-stop walking," I say, "Oh yeah." Hearing a sigh through Tristan's mask and seeing him shake his lower head, he nudges it a few seconds later and starts to walk. Rebecca and I follow after him, he guides us out of the parking lot and onto the deserted Boston streets. "Rebecca," Tristan says, turning back to her. "Listen, I know how to survive on the outside, but this is your city. You know it better than I do. If there are any places we passed that might have anything valuable, I want you to tell me. Okay?" "Got it," Rebecca replies, shooting Tristan a quick wave. "There might sti
Tristan: I pull out one of my pistols and aim it at the infected incoming. My finger on the trigger, I'm about to fire but stop. Rebecca is in the way, she's blocking my shot. "Damnit," I cry, running to the right. Now at a better angle, I aim at the infected once more. Closing one eye, I aim at the first infected's leg and fire. The bullet piercing a hole in the infected's leg, it leans over and drops off the sliver, plunging into the water below. Two more infected reach the sliver and I do the exact same. Shooting bullets through their legs, they groan as they drop into the water. "Hurry up," I yell, shooting a third infected. "This is only going to draw more attention." "I'm hurrying," Rebecca yells back. Rebecca: Sliding across the tiny sliver of leftover road, I eye the infected as they try to reach Bailey. Still sitting down, her face hidden behind her legs, I say fuck it to sliding and start running. Extending my arms so they're all the way out, I start running in a str
Rebecca: "How was the history lesson," Drifter asks, looking at us as we walk back into the room. "It was very educational," I answer, Bailey herself walking in and taking an empty seat. "What about you? Did you find anything useful?" Drifter reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few bullets. "That's not much," I say. "Maybe but it's still something." Drifter walks up to me and gives me the found bullets. "Here," he says, "I still got plenty of bullets from all these guns I took from Rex's goons." "Thanks," I say, reaching for my own gun. The clip drops out, I count the bullets inside. "Damn," I whisper, "Not even half a full magazine." Loading the bullets, I shove the clip back into my gun and toss it back into my pack. "It's late so you two go to sleep. I'll take the first watch. See you in two hours. Also, change the filter for your gas masks. This place isn't sealed." "No dinner," Bailey asks while digging into her pack for spare filters. "No," Drifter says, "No din
Tristan: We spend the whole day walking out of Boston. Shortly after getting off the bridge, Rebecca told us about a freeway that cuts through most of Boston nearby. We found it fast and despite most of it begin gone, there was still enough for us to follow. We stay low the whole time and kept our heads. Every two hours, we would stay for a few minutes to rest before going back on the road. Since it was daytime, there weren't many infected to worry about. "Son of a bitch," I say, combing my hair with my hand. As I do, I look at my hand. It's shining with sweats. "Boston is a lot bigger than I thought." Wiping my sweaty hand against my shirt, I crouch down and walk toward a rusted, four-doors sedan. The paint is long faded, the windows are all shattered, and the tires are both rotten and flat. Hiding behind it, I look around to make sure everything is clear. Once I see it is, I wave at Rebecca and Bailey to move up. The two running to me, I look around. "If memory serves," I say on
Tristan: Running toward us as soon as they see us, I run back into the house and push the sofa against the empty doorway. The sofa only blocks the lower half but it's still enough. The infected all rush at once, and get stuck in the upper half. However, as I push the sofa against all the snarling infected, I have to stay out of reach of their swinging arms. "Hold on," Bailey says, pulling out a gun and aiming at the infected. "Don't shoot," I say, an infected's arm grabbing my hair. Screaming as I shake it off, a few strands ripping off, I ignore them and looks at the package. "Don't shoot. Just grab something and start hitting them. Keep them out of here." Bailey nods her head and disappears into the living room. Meanwhile, Rebecca grabs an infected arm and starts slicing them. Black blood flows out and drops onto me, she reaches for another arm. "What are you doing," I ask. "Making an opening," Rebecca answers, cutting off another arm. Tossing the limb to the side, she then sta