The Bloody Sun

Not completely sure if this is most appropriate here. Its a zombie short story I wrote. Feel free to move it if it doesn't fit. Future chapters may be posted, depending on how good I do.

___________________________

Chapter 1

Bill stood idly by the altar as he gently fondled the Desert Eagle in his hand. He looked up at the seemingly enlarging model of Christ. Where had he gone wrong? Peter flashed back to when he and his newly wedded wife were coming home from what was perhaps their last happy moments together. As they settled down into their new life, slowly but surely, their marriage, their feelings for each other, their love, slowly broke apart. Then the arguments started. Small things at first. It always starts as small things at first. But then it started getting worse, steadily, slowly, at a crawl, but it was approaching. And when he needed to stop? When he needed to swallow his damn pride of all moments, what had he done? He couldn't remember - he drank those memories out of him. Then the fights started. The name calling. The striking. The truth. And did they stop for Haily's sake? No. Not even for his own daughter, he would try to heal his broken mind. Now, 5 years sober, when all he wanted was a second chance, she wouldn't - hell, she couldn't - give it to him. He was nearly thirty. What did he have to look forward to tomorrow?

Now Bill rubbed the bullet hole next to his head. He could do it. He could get back at himself for all those years of pity and suffering. All he needed was to pull one trigger. A single effort could solve all his problems for him. He closed his eyes and.....

Jumped. The back of the church doors swung open. At first, Bill was surprised. Then, he was....angry. Could he not die alone in peace? Was he not to have that single honor? For a moment, a thought of violence, of shooting his intruder flashed in his mind. But no, he couldn't do that. He wouldn't. He was better now.

Bill turned around to confront the intruder. Innocent or not, they wouldn't stop him from his final honor. He looked up, his pistol still on his temple. It was a women - no, too young. 19s years old at most. She was panting, with a sheet of fear over her body. She looked as if she had run from the devil itself. She looked at him, now ready to break down in tears for what could only be the hundredth time of late.

She kept running. Only stopped for a brief second to turn around and look behind her. She shrieked and kept running. But then she tripped over her own two feet. She was wearing high heels. In fact, now that Bill had gotten a better look at her, she looked like she had just ran out of a party. Considering how many parties per night their were in New York City, that would be half the people of the city alone.

Before Bill could react and help her, a second person came running through. He was wearing what could only be one of the finest suits in the city. His coat looked brand new, and his a few of his pockets, now ruffled, revealed several stickers still attached. It was his shirt that caught Bills attention however. It was what seemed like an elegant white, but it was stained with an enormas red stain. It was still dripping......wine perhaps?

That was as far as Bill's though train got before the man dove on the girl like a lion on a wounded meal. She kicked and pushed, but the man latched onto her neck, like a leech. Blood was everywhere. It was getting everywhere.

Bill almost didn't notice the third person run into the door. He took a quick look around the room, then spotted Bill. He snarled and charged.

Bill picked up his Desert Eagle and pointed it at the approaching man. He tried to scream, but fear had stolen his voice away. He waited until the last second until the man was nearly 4 feet in front of him before he fired his weapon. He tried to tilt the pistol down in an effort to hit his leg. But Bill wasn't quick enough, and the bullet wized right through his stomach. Bill heard a sickening crack as the man tripped on the ground. He tried to get to his feet up his legs wouldn't move. Did Bill hit the mans spine? But...how was he still moving?

Bill didn't have time to figure it out. The man who had clung to the woman stood up and looked at Bill after he heard the shot. He charged. Bill pointed his Desert Eagle at the the charging man and let off another bullet. It slammed through his shoulder, but didn't slow him down. Bill then aimed for his leg and shot again. The mans feet buckled, then fell. He screeched, but couldn't continue easily as he fell into the pews.

Then Bill jumped. The man whom he had shot in the spine was crawling over to Bill, trying to bit his foot. Bill stomped on the mans hand with his boot. He didn't even flinch.

Not a moment after, half a dozen more people, men and women, ran in, hearing the violence that was happening. All of them had grievous wounds on their bodies. All of them were covered in blood. They charged frantically toward Bill, with a seemingly animal like aura about them. Bill shot two more bullets into the crowd, unable to get a clear shot both with their clustered selves and his feelings of panic and dread. He turned and ran up a set of stairs that were behind him.

He ran up two flights of stairs. He came to an abrupt end and found himself at the tail of a long hallway. He started frantically trying to open doors, desperate to find an opening. He could hear them charging up the steps, eager to do to him like they did to that poor girl. But then Bill felt what would be his first feeling of true happiness as he heard the ching of a door lock. He opened the door. In it, he saw a scared priest, holding a metal baseball bat. He was too scared to hit Bill. Bill looked at him and said, "Father, I suggest you put that bat down and help me barricade this door if you want to see the sun tomorrow."