I’ve just posted this over at the writing course, if you check out the previous post in the catagory you’ll see what ammendments Mr Shipp suggested I make.

I have changed the grammatical errors and also added/deleted stuff.  There’s also an underlined section which is the old paragraph with the newer one beneath, not sure if it’s any better though.  Leave a comment, let me know.

The class also wanted a bit of closure on this one which I originally thought I had provided while also implying there were more adventures to come.

“Run, Fatty, Run!!!” there was an urgency in Ali’s tone. Our footsteps made loud slapping noises against the wet tarmac.  The occasional splash of a puddle would soak the outside of our shoes, seeping inwards until our toes were numb from cold.

The packs on our backs shook violently from side to side with the weight of pills and other supplies. The headlights of our saviour were up ahead. The click of a radio sparked to life. A beep announced an incoming message. Nick was panting, out of breath down the line… “How far?” He sounded on the brink of collapse. Ali shouted back, “NOT FAR!!! Run!!!”

The ever-increasing sense of impending doom wormed its way to my heart. The running, the energy – it was beginning to take its toll. The truck that lay ahead waiting for our safe return was a welcoming sight. The steel fence in front of it was not. I threw myself against the cold metal and the diamond links bent outwards with the force. My hands immediately cupped against one another ready for Ali to make his death defying leap to the top of the fence. His wet shoe landed directly in the palms of my hand and although my strength was limited, I heaved Ali’s weight upwards, helping him to the top.

The fence was at least ten feet high and was the only safe way to fool what was chasing us. They couldn’t climb. They could move at a fair pace but they couldn’t climb or cross running water. Perhaps it’s some biblical thing, we didn’t know, we just knew that some people were immune and we only risked city areas to get supplies, medical or otherwise.

Most of the time we didn’t need to make such a dangerous run but these things had begun moving in on our home turf. We needed weapons and the only places that had weapons were police stations and military bases, we weren’t living in America – the land of the free and the home of the Smith & Weston. For us, police stations were the easiest option…

“Guys!!!” Pills tumbled around in Nick’s backpack as if an inebriated rattle snake was trapped inside. I was already halfway up the fence when I saw them. They were gaining on Nick, soulless, animated corpses; flesh bags with only one thing on their mind: Survivor Pâté.

I looked up towards Ali who had now straddled the fence and took his hand. He pulled upwards as my free hand caught in the chain links and my left foot used <The wording is a bit awkward. Maybe: and with my left food, I used the wall for leverage.> the wall for leverage.

I looked up towards Ali who was now straddling the fence, legs akimbo in an uncomfortable fashion as he reached his hand down toward me.  On my first attempt at jumping up to grab the his hand, my weight nearly pulled the poor man down from his perch, he let out a few mild expletives as the tips of the chain link fence dug into his thighs.

The second attempt was more of a success, my left foot fell into place as it sought out a source of leverage against the wall opposite; Ali remembered to brace himself with his free hand this time. At least I wasn’t getting fatter… or was I?

I was now facing Ali atop the fence. We’d done this run at least six times now. Nick’s flashlight was bouncing up and down in the distance.

Then a clatter of pills sounded and a slap as two hands came into forceful contact with tarmac. The light fell from its holder to the ground with Nick. I had just begun to move to get down from the fence when Ali grabbed me, stopping me.

I began to protest but the light had rolled into a position that allowed us to see them.

Three,

Five,

Twelve

An increasing wave of undead in different stages of decomposition had filtered into the long alleyway, the emptiness we had just travelled through had now become a blockade.

That’s when I heard Ali say it… “Fatty’s dead people chow, now…” I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard…

There was a cry from Nick, “Puppy!! Help!!”  He’d seen that Ali was now heading towards the truck. The horn was sounding at an alarmed rate. I knew what our driver was thinking.

Ali had just reached the truck and was already ducking into the back seat, throwing his share of the loot in first. I wasn’t far behind, leaping down from my perch. My fingers weaved in between the links of the fence, gripping as I looked back towards Nick one last time.

The first had reached him.

I’d seen the scene so many times before.

There are some you can save and others you can’t… it’s the ones you can’t that haunt you.

A pause, a stumble sounded in the distance as the first of many descended on my fallen comrade.

A petrified scream sounded from Nick’s direction. The pit of my stomach swam with guilt as my fingers became loosened their grip around the links in the fence and I began to move backwards away from the scene.

The screams became more frantic and panicked. The horde had surrounded him and began to tear him limb from limb.  The alley was plunged into darkness as the fallen flashlight became engulfed by the ungodly scene.

Now was the time to move. After they finished, they may very well take down the fence with sheer force trying to get to us. five or six of them would be no problem for the fence to keep at bay but en masse, our preferred route would be very much a non option next time around.
The pills in my backpack rattled with seeming excitement as I reached the safety of the waiting truck. I threw the bag at Ali in the back seat.

Perhaps we could have done something but I wouldn’t know now because Ali had made the decision for us. Nick had to be sacrificed; we’d more than likely pick up his backpack on the next run into the city.

Every loss is another loss that damns the human race forever.

The driver turned to look at us “Two out of three? Not what I was expecting.”

“Just drive, fuckwit”,  came the response from Ali and I had to agree. Our designated driver for the night?

Dave aka Dampboy, a rather excitable penis who tended to go off at the most inopportune moments. You’ll see what I mean. Liability is his middle name.

“Home, Jeeves!” I said as I peered back one last time towards the fence we’d just leapt over. Only darkness there now and an unearthly chorus of groans and gargles. The screaming had stopped while we’d been trying to get Dampy to drive us back to the others.

Ali patted me on the shoulder as we picked up speed. He has the kind of strength for this job, I know it affects him but he never lets it show. I don’t know how he does it.

The high beams of the truck illuminated the road ahead, we were going home but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Where do we go from here?