Hillview scrap

Carnage was everywhere. And everywhere, there was carnage. Blood smeared the well-worn, honeyed wooden floor of the Hillview Roller Rink, coagulating in its exposed state and settling into the wax. Skull fragments and grey matter peppered the ground, interspersed with indeterminate viscera and flesh, yielding underfoot with sickening squelches, and crackling reminiscent of Autumn leaves.

A primal, animalistic warcry echoed from the walls; a stark contrast to the glittering, dancing reflections from the disco ball suspended high above. The hollow metallic impact that followed nor the nauseating crunch of a collapsing skull could be heard more than a few feet away, dampened under the sounds of synthesizers an booming basslines of the 80s mix playing on the sound system.

As if smashed by Gallagher himself, blood and gore sprayed from the gaping wound of a neck mostly torn through, separated from the shoulders. The splatter covered the two youths nearest the impact; one wore a letterman jacket, blessedly red, but like the roller rink's wooden floor, it would never come clean. He had the forethought to bring a motorcycle helmet, the dark tinted visor of which was smeared with fluids of varying sources and types.

He drew back the aluminum baseball bat, barrel warped and dented, the brushed steel finish stained with the blood of his victims; and used the sleeve of his jacket to futilely attempt to clean the visor of his helmet. With a silent stoicism granted from that helmet, he paused to catch his breath, shoulders heaving but otherwise unwavering.

Mere inches away, however, the other youth was on her knees, palms lying flat on the floor, ichor pooled around and underneath them. Her long, wavy, chocolate locks obscured her face as they trailed down to the vital fluids below. The sounds of her retching were fortunately dampened by the ironically upbeat music, but nothing could hide her crumpled form as it rocked to and fro, her spine arching forward further and further as she fought the rising bile in her throat.

Like her partner, her clothes were thoroughly ruined. The jeans she wore had been fully saturated from the cuffs to the knees, and she had not worn a crimson splatter-patterned top before she arrived. Around her neck hanged a single, dark red crystal, rough hewn and wrapped with leather cord. A faint light emanated from it, flickering and dancing as if something was trapped within.

A single tear rolled down her cheek, the trembling of her shoulders shedding it to the puddles below. Not a moment later, cold showers of water rained down in a cascade of conical sheets. The crimson staining her top ran down her arms in waves, streaks; her hair matted upon her head, and her tears would forever remain a secret to her partner.

Without any more time to process things, she was hauled to her feet by the boy in the letter jacket, and with their elbows linked the two carefully waded through the pouring water from the fire sprinklers and the already slick viscera towards the neon glow of the "exit" sign.

They burst through the door, flung open by the boy's broad shoulder and found themselves enveloped in the crisp, chilly Autumn night air. The sounds of the fire alarm rang in a pulsating whine, now with no synthesizers to dampen it. No time was wasted before the pair darted off, leaving a trail of soggy, vermilion footprints behind them.

"What the fuck *were* those things?" The young man asked, words muffled by the motorcycle helmet and fighting with the soggy squelches of clothes and sneakers soaked through with fluids echoing from the brick walls.

"I already told you that they were zombies, dumbass," she replied; her fear, anxiety, and exasperation culminating in an angry snap back at her partner.

"Fuck off, Anna. Not all of us are D&D nerds like you," he spat back, head fixed down at his notified l motorcycle as he prepared to mount it.

"No, fuck you, Johnny," her venom punctuated by panting breaths. "Watch a fucking movie, everyone knows what zombies are."

"All of that shit, it's just stories. This is real life."