[This story is an excerpt converted from a screenplay I drafted for the 2010 ScriptFrenzy event.]
To set the scene, a beleaguered group of Renaissance Faire employees embark on an epic adventure, a la D&D, across a zombie infested waste-land in search of safe haven. The group consists of the traditional fighters (Ren Faire Knights), healer (EMT), rogue (protagonist’s trouble making teenage sister) and a “wizard” (pyro-chemist).
They are doggedly hounded by biker Boris and his scavenging lackeys – whom Rod, the leader of the medievally equipped and armored group, faces in mortal combat.]
Boris circled around Rod’s prone form.
As Rodney tried to rise to his knees, Boris landed a vicious kick to his jaw with a mud-crusted boot, flattening him back to the ground. A bright ribbon of blood flew from the knight’s mouth and he lost the grip on his mace, which spun away across the dirt.
Boris nonchalantly retrieved the weapon. He hefted it in his burly hands, testing the weight and balance.
“This’ll be the first time I ever killed a man with his own weapon,” Boris admitted.
Swinging a couple of lazy arcs, he advanced back on Rod, who was just now coming back to his wits.
Boris rolled the limp warrior onto his back with a boot. Using both hands, he raised the heavy mace high over his head for a killing stroke.
Boris smiled wickedly, “Goodbye, Sir Knight.”
Rodney closed his good eye, not wanting to see his final moments reflected in the giant biker’s sneer.
Boris grunted. Rodney tensed.
The blow never fell.
Rod opened his eye to see Alex clinging to Boris’ back, like a small dark rucksack. She used the hilts of her daggers to find purchase, arms hugging around him, one blade buried deep into the large man’s neck, the other lodged into the side of his gut.
Alex ripped them in opposite directions, opening a yawning gash across his throat and eviscerating him all at once.
Boris fell to his knees, the force jarring his steaming entrails loose to spill to the dirt, before he toppled face down with Alex riding him all the way to the ground.
All looked on in a mixture of horror and disbelief.
With a sucking sound, Alex slid her daggers from Boris’ twitching form. She rose slowly form her victim like a dark soul departing a body and turned to the remaining bikers. Crimson coated blades dripped at her sides.
Her dark eyes narrowed in a menacing glare as her soft hair floated in the breeze.
“Which one of you corpses is next?”