Presentation on theme: "Bruce and Taz By Adam Boss. The bushes were spiky, but if he didn’t get away, he was a goner. Taz dived through the bushes; he had to get to cover before."— Presentation transcript:
The bushes were spiky, but if he didn’t get away, he was a goner. Taz dived through the bushes; he had to get to cover before dawn set, if he wanted to have a chance at surviving. The waning sunlight shining through the branches of the trees set off alarm deep inside Taz’s body, signaling that he had to watch his back.
“Hold up won’t you?” cried Bruce. Bruce may be the biggest, meanest, bully that Taz had ever met, but he was ridiculously slow. The two had met at school, where Bruce often picked on Taz. Taz was 2 years younger, in grade 5, so he was an easy target. After The War though, the two had to join up to survive. As he caught up, Taz wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. If it wasn’t for how many risks that Bruce had taken for him back at The Hut, he wouldn’t be standing here. “Can’t you move a little faster?” shouted back Bruce. “It’s almost dark, and we can’t stick around, you know that already.” Bruce was mostly joking, with a hinted sense of fear and worry.
“Watch out!!!” screeched Bruce. “Bellower!!” Taz jumped and turned with fright, looking straight into the eyes of it. He jumped back, dodging a fore coming onslaught of punches from the Bellower. Bruce jumped into acted, quickly kicking the part- human, part-who-knows-what, in the upper chest, shooting it back. Taz sprinted up to it, quickly impaling it with his dagger, straight into the head.
“Jesus Christ mate! I almost died, holy crap!” Taz’s legs were shaking as he stared at the now dead Bellower. Something must have happened back at The Quarter Shop, worrying the two friends deep to their bone. It wasn’t as if they’d never been in a fight, or been that close to death, but this was different. Sure, it was almost dark, but a Bellower this early?
“I haven’t seen one of those for a while…” muttered Bruce. “You ok?” he questioned. Bruce shuttered as the lifeless Bellower gave a final spasm, and fell still. Bellowers used to be a common occurrence after The War, with radioactive chemicals decaying the bodies of humans, turning them into toxic, ravaging, human hunters. “Yeah, no worries, just let’s get back to The Court fast”. The Court was what Bruce and Taz had named a little courthouse, claiming it as their home. It provided the basic necessities, a toilet, storage for food and weapons, and a safe shelter where they could sleep without worrying about oncoming attacks.
As Taz climbed over the fence, leading into the old school field, his vision reverted back to 5 years ago. The streets were safe, food was abundant, and Taz had led a boring life. He went to school, just as every child had to. Taz hated school though, mostly due to constant bullying from the older kids, Bruce included. Taz wasn’t short, or nerdy, just skinny. He could fight and was stronger than most, but that’s not what mattered at St. Ned’s Private School.
Taz loved to play soccer at lunch. He was skinny, fast, and had an amazing mind for the game. Taz’s mind wasn’t only soccer oriented though. He was a natural genius, but underrated ever since he moved to St. Ned’s. He often lacked motivation to actually complete projects on time, or at all. “Hey! I thought you were the one complaining about me moving too slow, but you’re the turtle!" Bruce snapped out of the day dream and hurried down the field, imagining his old friends running through the field, kicking the ball towards the goal. They slipped through the mud, yelling out in laughter, jeering their opponents with words that they surely wouldn’t mention at home.
Taz walked slowly into The Court, extremely wary after the day’s earlier encounter. Hanging up his coat on the hanger, his head was instantaneously flooded with thoughts of his mother. Back when Taz was younger, his mother had always reminded him to hang up his coat. He almost never listened to her, often causing her to pick it up. He wished he had been nicer, now that she was gone.
“You all good there Taz?” shouted Bruce from across the room. “Sure thing Bruce! Just making sure everything is locked up!” replied Taz. Taz checked all the doors, making sure they were locked, and that all the windows had blackout blinds on them. You couldn’t be too safe anymore. After numerous waves of scavengers, and bandits attempting to steal their supplies, the pair had taken as many precautions as they could to make sure they were safe. They had canned food in cupboards, multiple weapons, made from anything from baseball bats to bicycles, ready for on the go.
After checking to make sure everything was safe, the two decided to go to sleep. There wasn’t too much to do for entertainment now, so rest was an ideal time passer. Especially since, on some days, the need to stay awake all night, protecting your lives, had a toll on your reflexes, where extra sleep beforehand could really help. As Taz fell asleep, he hugged a bear that his grandmother had given his parents when he was born, and had kept ever since, as a token of memory. It hadn’t meant much before, but after his family died, it was one of the few keepsakes that he kept.
As Taz woke up, he could smell the evil in the air, lurking through the air, manifesting itself in small corridors and closets. They needed to get out of here and somewhere safe. The message they had received over the radio said that they had a gathering of survivors, but who’s to say that they would be able to make it in time?
“Bruce! We’re going to try and find the survivors. Better to die trying, than to die slowly.” “Right on Taz!” Bruce instantly started packing up his bags, excited about Taz’s change in mind. He quickly packed the shoes he got for Christmas from his older brother the last year. They ran out the back door, jumping over a couple barrels that they had been using for basic protection, and dashed across the road. Suddenly, a girl, probably about 12, jumped on Bruce.
“Aaaaaah!” Bruce yelled out. “Help”! Taz shoved the girl off, and they started sprinting off. They walked past a convenience store, tattered like an old rag, with bits of the store hanging all around it. They dashed in, grabbing whatever food they could find. Taz spotted a bag of Lay’s chips, his sister’s favourite, and grabbed them out of memory to her. They hastily ran out of the store, turning North down 52 nd street.
They ran past the old antique store Bruce’s mom had worked at before. As Taz dashed ahead, Bruce let a single tear drop down, resulting in an outburst of sudden energy out of fear, and hate, for the bombers that had done this, to the town, city, his mother, his family, everyone. A gunshot went off in the distance, startling them, but they kept running on. Taz was just starting to cramp, and then they heard barking from dogs. “RUN TAZ!!!!” screeched Bruce, at the top of his lungs.
The dogs were hot on their scent, yapping at the feet of Taz and Bruce, inching closer by the second, running. Dashing by the wrecked cars on the street, they bounded towards anything that might offer a way to confuse the dogs, 5 black Rottweilers, with blood thirsty jagged white teeth. The boys tore through the street, mindlessly, abruptly, turning at any corner.
“We’re going to be dead without even knowing where we’re going at this rate!” worried Taz. “If you have time for talking, you have breath for running hard!” The pair ran harder now, running out of breath and time, with the dogs coming closer by the second. Bruce noticed a fence leading to an open field, and decided to risk it. “Taz! Follow me!” Taz dashed after Bruce, up the ladder, and into the opening. They jogged a couple kilometers, before slowing to a halt.
“That was insane!” heaved Taz. He lay down on his side, taking in oxygen as fast as possible, as if he was hyperventilating. “No duh!” wheezed Bruce. Bruce used a tree to support himself, looking above him while he did. “The sun is setting; we should probably make a move on soon. As much as I want to just take a break, we don’t know our surroundings here, and it might not be very safe.”
“I agree, but let’s say we walk?” asked Bruce, slowly stepping across the mess of a ground, with leaves scattered everywhere, and trash thrown onto it. Taz agreed, so they trudged on forwards, worrying with each and every step that they’d be jumped on, with the sun setting further and further.
Slyly, they prowled through the forest that they had run into. The sun shone brightly through the trees, like little sun lights, mixed with the bushes, and beautiful exotic flowers, made for an exquisite scene. Screeches of baboons, and the ear-piercing cries of crows, feasting on dead prey, were heard around them. The two crunched their boots through the mess of a jungle floor that it was, being careful for traps, and to try to make as little noise as possible, to not give away their location. They had been in places where stealth mattered before, so they knew how to handle the situation.
Peering through the bushes of the undergrowth, the duo spotted numerous security cameras, along with dirt trails that clearly had tire tracks gone over them before. Following the tracks, they made their way through to a stream that led to a sight that they would have never imagined. After an hour, there appeared to be a gate off in the distance, gleamingly reflecting the sunlight, a light at the end of a cave. Moving closer to it, they noticed that there was an enormous, orange warning sign, with “PRIVATE PROPERTY” written on it. Approaching it slowly, they noticed trucks coming in and out, with old Coca-Cola signs on them.
“Is this the hideout for all the remaining survivors!?” Taz freaked, madly sprinting towards the gate. He felt the wind behind him, pushing him, making him fly. His head was in the clouds, soaring above the eagles, whispering like an old tree to the sun, joyful and dancing. The root snagged, entangling his foot, bringing him down, down, down… As he fell, everything happened in a moment. From his childhood days, to the war, to surviving with Bruce, it flashed before him. His arms went out to protect him, but he wasn’t fast enough. A bone-crushing “THUNK” could be heard for miles, as his head smashed against the cement. Blood poured out from the wounds, dripped from his temples, and oozed over the ground, like watery tomato soup. “TAZ! TAZ CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?! TAZ!....”.
“Bruce! Bruce CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?! Bruce!!!....”.