Ravens, pt Six

“Fall back!” Heinrich shouted in broken German, the unofficial language of code for the village hidden in the hills of Pennsylvania.

Instantly Steven and David fell back, allowing the dead to press through the three foot gap, stumbling over the mound of still corpses beneath their bloodied feet and into the blades and maces of the two men, plus Michael. Heinrich moved around the melee to the other shelf, putting his good shoulder against the shaking wall of wood and boxes to better stabilize the leaning tower keeping the hungry dead at bay.

Ravens, pt. Five

Standing in the pale light of a hundred candles, bathed in their warm glow, was a man dressed in perhaps the strangest outfit Heinrich had seen since the Great Impact. Scuffed steel-toed boots beneath worn denim jeans was all framed by an oversized terrycloth bathrobe, the sleeves down well past the thin man’s hands. When they were visible, Heinrich could see the blue veins traced along his wrists and hands, his fingers ending in long sharpened fingernails, adorned with rings and a bright red nail polish.

Ravens Pt. Four

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Heinrich growled through grit teeth, pushing himself up. “My arm is broken is all.”

“And covered in that black gunk,” Michael observed, eyeing the drenched arm with distaste.

“All the more reason to help get it off me.” Heinrich ordered, nodding out into the store. “Go grab a couple bottles of alcohol so we can douse my arm before we bind it.”

“On it.” Michael agreed, shouldering his blade as he marched through the batwing doors and off into the darkened store. Heinrich reached over to the one sickle within reach and began gingerly scraping what slime he could off his injured arm, listening as David and Steven struggled to down the skewered Crawler.