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Layla brushed her blonde, wet, bangs that were tinged with just a bit of dirt back out of her eyes and wiped the sweat off of her face with her shirt. It had been white once but now you would never know it. In the month since they fell out of the sky and busted shit up, cluttering the air with particles that held in the heat, the sun had really become a bitch. Then there was the problem they had caused. She tried to stay as low as possible as she gazed up over the pile of rubble that she was hidden behind. It was a little safer to move around in the daytime because you could see them coming from farther away, but it was still dangerous, especially if you were alone like she was. She hadn't seen a single other survivor in the days since she started wandering around, but she figured there had to be some and that they were just hiding like she should be doing. The only problem with that was that she didn't have anywhere to hide. She could have stayed at home she supposed but quickly pushed that thought from her mind, but she didn't do it in time. The memory came back. She couldn't have stayed there with her mother's dead, questioning face staring at her. Layla peered over the rubble and it was just as she feared, there was one up ahead. She took a deep breath to steady her heart which had started beating like mad. She clenched the metal pipe that she held in her hand so tight that her knuckles were starting to turn white. Calm down. She told herself. You've taken on many of these things one on one by yourself in the past month. Still she knew what could happen if she got too laid back, she would slip up and end up on the business end of one of those things teeth.

She stood up and adjusted the black strap that started on her shoulder and continued down across her chest and stomach, it held her aluminum softball bat. She had been one hell of a softball player before the world ended. She walked up over the rubble and down the otherside, her face set in stone. Layla saw the same things this time that she had seen every time she was about to take one of these things out. It was the first one she had killed, she had awakened to find it eating her mother's throat out. She pushed the memory aside and started towards it. One she could take, it wouldn't be too hard because they moved so god damn slow. It was when they gathered in numbers that it got dangerous because then they could overpower you. They couldn't be reasoned with or bargained with, the only thing they understood was the hunger, and the need to sate that hunger. Layla had almost reached it when it sensed that she was there.

It turned around slowly. It's body posture was that of an old man, slumped down and unco-ordinated. The only problem was that he wasn't an old man, he was actually quite young. No, the problem was that he was very dead. His arms hung listlessly to his sides and his neck was permenently cocked to the right, the result of a broken neck. His right leg was bent at the knee, but his left leg was perfectly straight, angled out to the side, with all of the pressure on the ankle, which was bent grotesquely to the left, making the foot useless. His skin was pale and loose, the eyes were sinking back into the skull and his mouth just hung open. When he saw her he let out a deep moan that soon turned into a gurgling sound as blood came running out of his mouth. He started shuffling towards her, taking normal steps with his right leg and dragging his useless one behing him, his arms were outstretched, reaching for her. My god they move in real life just like they do in the movies. Layla thought. That wasn't the only thing just like the movies she knew. You could take them out with one good shot to the head. He continued shuffling forward and reaching for her. Soon Layla was in range and his attack became a frenzy of lunges and grabs, and attempted bites. She knew that if he got her with his teeth it would be bad, she didn't know if she would actually turn into one from the bite but she didn't want to find out either. She ducked under his arms and came up on the other side. She put both hands on the pipe and bought it around as hard as she could. There was a sickening crack as it made contact with the side of his head. She had nailed him right in the temple, blood spurted out from the wound as his right eye leapt from its socket. It hit the dirt covered road and rolled a few inches before stopping. The zombie collapsed in the middle of the street in a broken heap, never to move again. Layla looked down at him as she wiped the pipe against her pant leg and the blood made a new stain among the other dried blood stains she had accumulated. It was her way of keeping track of her kills. She bent over picked up his eyeball and looked at it. She looked down at the now twice dead man with cold, uncaring eyes, again she saw her mother's throat being ripped out. She dropped the pipe and took the bat off of her back. Layla threw the eye up into the air and then crushed it with one swing of her bat while it was on its way back down. She watched as the eye went flying off into the distance. She put the strap back over her shoulder and picked up her pipe. She walked off without waiting to see where the eye would land.