Give Into The Night (Prologue/Closed)

[Lt. Sean Fitzpatrick]

Rice Krispies were supposed to go snap, crackle and pop...

...not Sean's bad right shoulder.

Sean went sailing through the window, a few pieces here and there scraping, even slicing his neck and hands a little. And he crashed with a hard thump into the dumpster that he was glad was still positioned just perfectly to provide him with a somewhat safe landing.

Thank god those garbage men did call in after all. While a massive zombie-style outbreak is a stretch, it certainly is a true and damn good reason to take a personal day.

When Sean landed in the dumpster, he heard a pop that was followed by a snap when he was attempting to climb out. Just like he had prayed for the dumpster, he was praying that at some point, he might run into a doctor that could fix his shoulder. For now, Sean was just going to have to fight the pain and keep on moving. He wasn't going to get hung up on the dull pain in his shoulder because these cannibalistic assholes weren't going to give him the luxury.

Having to hold his gun in his left hand, Sean began jogging. He was scanning the parking lot, looking for his 1967 Chevy Impala(he had it long before that Dean Winchester dude). So far, most of the infected were still contained in the building, but Sean wasn't going to rest on his laurels just yet. At any moment those doors could bust wide open and the infected could come pouring out of the place.

And that moment was right... about... now.

The doors to the precinct were literally knocked off of their hinges as a horde of the man-eaters came rushing out, looking for their next meal. Sean wasn't about to stick around and let these fuckers turn him into an all you can eat Irishman buffet, so Sean booked it.

For a man that has a shoulder screaming in pain and a three cigar a day habit, Sean was quick. He didn't have the luxury of time that he needed to locate his Impala. Before he even dug the keys out of his pocket, one of the infected would dig their teeth into his ass.

But alas! Up ahead was a safe haven.. somewhat. A bus. From the looks of it, the former mode of public transportation was completely empty and had a new paint job in the form of fresh blood. Sean figured that the bus driver attempted to make a run for it. If the dude was smart, he would have just kept driving until the state of New York was long gone.

With the horde in route and hot on his heels, Sean picked up the pace a little bit. His body was wanting to just slump down and crash in the nearest soft spot, but Sean wasn't going to allow that to happen. He pushed his legs harder than ever. He pushed himself way past beyond what he thought was his 'limit'. At the moment, Sean could have given Usain Bolt a run for his money as the fastest human in the world.

With the door wide open, Sean leapt into the bus, stretching his legs as he did so. All Sean needed to do was stick his tongue out and he would have looked like Michael Jordan.

With the infected closing in like a heat seeking missile, Sean slammed the door to the bus close, more than likely breaking it in the process.

Okay, so the situation is as follows:

Sean is stuck in a New York City bus completely out of gas in close to wailing in pain from his right shoulder. Outside of this bus are nearly thirty or so infected waiting for the chance to rip Sean limb from limb.

Now what?

[Lt. Sean Fitzpatrick]

"This is fan-fucking-tastic!" Sean exclaimed, throwing his now empty gun at the windshield of the bus he was trapped inside of. It didn't take Sean very long to come to the realization that this bus was going to become his makeshift tomb. Fan-fucking-tastic

Many had regrets in their lives, but Sean was completely different. Sean thought back on what his life was like before all the insanity and even though it may have been a sin, Sean was prideful. Sean was proud of the choices that he made and the life that he lived before blood-thirsty maniacs with a taste for brains took over.

The only thing that Sean actually regretted was not saving one bullet for himself. Even though his shoulder was throbbing in pain, the cuts and scraps he got when jumping through the window, he wasn't going to let them turn Sean's ass into a all you can eat Irish buffet.

But for now, all Sean can do is wait. Out of ammo and without some kind of blunt object to utilize as a weapon. In other words, Sean was screwed....

drip.... drip.... drip....

Correction to that last statement; Sean was fucked. He felt the blood drip on his forehead, so he looked directly up and saw one of them. Blood in it's mouth and flesh between it's teeth. For a moment, they actually had a stare down. Sean laid on his back, completely defenseless as one of the infected stood above him, ready to pounce.

Back in his glory days, Sean was quite the athletic type. From laying on his back, Sean could actually kip-up into a standing position. While he hasn't had a reason to do it in recent years, he was certainly hoping that he could kip-up and onto his feet or at least into a squatting position.

Sean bided his time, waiting for the exact moment to kip-up so that the zombie would either miss him or be caught off guard.

It was like a really fucked up version of a gunfight in the Ol' West. Both of them took there time, waiting for the other one to make the first move. It seemed as if the infected actually retained some kind of brain function, actually playing it smart.

He must have got bored or something...

Sean watched it's foot, keeping a eye on it and when he saw it move just slightly, he knew it was ready to strike. Bringing his knees into his chest, Sean's feet were thrust into the air and Sean pushed off of his palms. While he exactly didn't kip up into a full standing position, he still kipped up into a squatting position. Which turned out to be fart better as the zombie dove towards Sean, attempting to pounce on him like a lion pouncing on a gazelle, and flew right over Sean's head.

The bad part; Sean's felt a slight but very painful tweak in his left ankle. The other bad part; the zombie was starting to stir. Putting most of his weight on his right ankle, Sean began backing up until he hit the emergency exit.

Despite being back up against the public transportation's emergency exit, Sean knew there was no escape. Outside that emergency exit door was the horde. Inside and facing him was a rather pissed off and hungry zombie, licking it's chops and ready to have an Irish energy bar or whatever kind of tasty treat that you prefer.

Sean really could have used that bullet right about now.

+*+*+
Words: 608
Mood: To Infinity....AND BEYOND!!!
Thoughts: Thinking that his is just going to be one long Sean story. Might be a lot of fun.

[Lt. Sean Fitzpatrick]

Saying that Sean was fucked six ways from Sunday was saying that cockroaches are annoying.

It was just common sense.

Sean was staring down a undead cannibal. Flesh between it's teeth and the smell of human blood on it's breath. It's eyes were virtually solid black minus a small tint of green that made up it's iris. It's skin was so pale, it was practically yellow. It was hungry for flesh and it was staring down Sean like the Irishman was a Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese.

Sean had nothing to defend himself with besides his fists and he wasn't about to stick his arm out, ready to have a chunk bitten out of it. Sean had to outsmart this bastard. He didn't think the task was too hard. The only thing on this things mind was devouring Sean whole and wasn't thinking strategically how to devour Sean whole. Sean, on the other hand, was fully capable to thinking strategically but he had to do it fast. Sean had come to learn rather quickly that these things are highly unpredictable, striking out of nowhere like a King Cobra.

Sean quickly deduced that the zombie was going to come at him head on, so Sean's best bet would be to either kick this bastard right in the face and stomp it's head until brain's oozed out. Or he could be slick about everything and go around the zombie, hop over a seat and jump kick this thing into next week.

But seeing as how Sean's bum shoulder was aching in pain and his left ankle was screaming in agony. Sean wasn't about to further injure himself by pulling some kind of kick ass ninja shit. He had no other choice than to puff his chest and go head to head with a zombie.

And then.... it charged. The zombie came at Sean full force, sprinting the short distance. Sean had to time this perfectly. If he was too early, he was fucked and if he was too later, he was fucked. He had to be perfect with this kick, otherwise Sean was going to become one of them. That wasn't a option for Sean. Survival was the only choice Sean had.

The zombie ran for Sean, hoping to chomp into Sean's jugular. But the only thing that it ran into was Sean's right boot-covered foot. Sean heard a rather audible crunch as the zombie hit his boot face first. The zombie fell to the floor like a sack of shit. Sean wasn't going to give this thing the chance to get up for round three. Sean promptly, and forcefully, stomped the zombie's head in. Sean's right heel crashed into the zombie's temple and it's head gave in almost instantly. The skull was shattered and it's brain was damaged.

For a moment, Sean got to be proud that he put a zombie down injured and unarmed. But the horde outside wasn't going to let Sean celebrated much longer. The window to the emergency exit had be busted open and Sean could see flailing zombie arms out of the corner of his eye. He had no choice; he had to run and he had to run fast.

Limping, Sean scurried towards the door of the bus, but those too where soon to be broken down by the zombie horde. The only way for Sean to escape this bus was through a window to the left of him. Zombies were coming from the back of him and to his right.

Sean could have easily crashed through the front windshield, but a few problems came up with that scenario. Sean was done busting through windows and Sean was quite sure that those things were thick. So the last thing he wanted to do was knock himself out... so the open window it was.

Sean practically dove for the window. He went out headfirst with his belly up. He wanted to be able to see and kick any zombies that were grabbing at his ankles. But lucky for Sean, zombies aren't the smartest things ever. It actually took them quite a while for them to actually get in the bus. Sean was practically out of it before the first zombie was ever able to wrap it's rotting fingers around Sean's foot. But instead of getting a tasty treat, the zombie only got Sean's left boot.

Sean crashed hard onto the pavement. He felt a massive strain on his bum shoulder and he could tell almost instantly that it was getting worse. If the God above loved him at all, he would deliver to Sean two things; a safe place and a doctor. Sean gingerly got up as he saw the zombies fighting over the boot that they took from him. He almost laughed out loud as one of them actually began gnawing on it.

Better his boot than his actual foot.

Sean turned his back towards the zombies and damn near cartwheeled in excitement when he saw a squad car just a few feet from him. Sean hobbled towards the police vehicle(his ankle was killing him at this point). After a quick but thorough check, Sean felt the car was safe even to enter. He almost cried tears of joy when he saw the keys still in the ignition. He actually did shed a tear of joy when he saw a shotgun and three boxes of shells in the backseat.

"Thank you... Jesus," Sean said to himself as he cranked the engine on. The roar of the police car got the attention of the horde around him, but they had no hope of out running a cop car any time soon.

For the time being, Sean was still alive, armed and got himself a cop car.

Now all he needs is that doctor.

+*+*+
Words: 996
Mood: My back hurts
Thoughts: This is officially over. If anyone has a doctor in the area. Wanna thread with Sean?