I've decided that Gravity Falls is an awesome and super funny, great new show. So I'll be writing a lot of fan stories for it.
She should've given up by now.
Things were bad; she'd lost communications with the soldiers working their way through town.
She should've just have accepted the fact that the world was lost and die peacefully. But that wasn't who she was.
She remembered them. So clearly.
Wendy looked down at the one of few pictures that had all of them in it. Stan, Soos, Mabel, Dipper, her.
The others were all dead. Or undead. Whichever.
Wendy sighed, as she tucked it back into her bag. Life used to be simple. She'd have fun, do stuff with Dipper and Mabel. Run away from the cops because of another of Stan's schemes.
She was collecting her few personal possessions from the hiding spot, around the Mystery Shack. Hopefully they wouldn't be torn apart.
They included Dipper's hat, a few more pictures, a small craft that Mabel had made. Maybe some of them weren't hers, but it was up to her to live up to them. Because they had tried to fight the virus, and the infection. To no avail.
The worn down red head heard some footsteps nearby. She unsheathed her favorite weapon, a silver sword, sharp, and spotless. She kept a careful footing, making sure not to step on any dead leaves.
"Err.." A moan.
That meant it was one of the dead. And that the soldiers down below had fallen. The nearest pocket of resistance was miles away, near Washington D.C, where they had constructed large walls.
She saw it. But she didn't expect it to be a face she knew very well, as it was the same that handed her her former paycheck every month.
Stan was dead. She knew that. She'd hoped she wouldn't have to see them as the undead, but that had already failed.
She hesitated. People always hesitated when they saw their loved ones, creeping towards them to devour all of the life in their path.
But she wasn't stupid. She struck fast, and it ended in Stan's chest. The fat, pink, warty nose, twitched. Gross. She pulled it out by the handle and struck to the head. It disfigured by the impact.
Soon, a pack came of the Undead.
SLICE! CHOP! SLICE! DODGE!
Were Wendy's thought's as she fought, rapidly, hitting left and right, and in every other direction. This was the end, as she became tired, and she couldn't get to the trees. Even if she escaped, there was hardly any food left, and she'd starve anyway.
Time to join the dead.
She was overwhelmed, and bit ferociously. They departed, slowly, hunting for animals in the woods. An hour later, she rose once more, to terrorize the living.