back.
“We’re going on a run for ammo, then food,” Dax said.
Scot still had a hard scowl on his face.
“Listen, a few of us should stay here. No point in all of us going,” I said.
That went over like a wet paper bag. After they unwound the wire, everyone piled out.
“Or, we can all go,” I finished.
----
T he gun store was a block and a half down from us on the other side of town. In between us were several burnt-out cars. Bodies were everywhere. There was no telling if they would rise as we navigated our way through them. It was like a fucking minefield of Z’s. Specs tied off the front of the bank so none of them could get in.
“We sprint it?” Specs said.
“We don’t have much choice,” Baja said.
It was true. There was no real way of doing this. You couldn’t exactly sneak along the side. There wasn’t enough cover. The moment we came out, Z’s were already heading our way. Their faces torn apart. Their groans filling the air.
“This is like Zombiegeddon, except these fuckers aren’t going to tear your tags off.”
“No. They are going to tear your balls off,” Specs replied.
“Fuck yeah,” Baja pumped the air with his fist like an overeager kid excited about obtaining a top score in a video game. I honestly don’t think he had fully clued into the danger that we were in.
“A block and a half, we can do this.”
We began to sprint. We started in a line, but then eventually formed into an arc. Scot was at the tail end, taking out any Z’s from behind. Dax led the way and Baja, well he was just all over the place, throwing out kicks as though this was a scene from Fists of Fury . Fucking guy had me in stitches. Though I was thoroughly convinced he had lost the plot when I saw him round house kick a zombie and the head flew off the Z’s shoulders.
“See that shit. That’s how we do it in the hood.”
“Dude, you are not even from the hood,” I said, shooting off round after round.
“What the fuck do you call this place?”
He had a point. Our town looked in worse shape than some of the housing projects in Harlem, New York.
“There’s too many,” Jason yelled. The gunfire was attracting a slew of Z’s that were piling out of the alleyways. But there was no going back. I had run out of ammo, and left my baseball bat back at the bank. Dax had used up all of his, and was now firing off the few rounds he had left in a Browning M2. All I could do was use my legs and kick them back.
“Just take out the fast ones,” Dax said.
The slow ones were easier to take down.
“We’re not going to make it,” Scot said.
I could recognize a lot of the Z’s, even though their faces had eyeballs hanging out, and they were beginning to rot. We were nearing the gun store when more gunfire started. However, it wasn’t ours. I looked up and saw on top of the roof, Jessica and Izzy. Both of them had assault rifles and were laying down some serious heat on the biters in front of us. As they cleared a path for us, I was more worried about being hit by a stray bullet than having one of the Z’s chew into my arm. We ran towards the opening where the cruiser was, and Baja and I were the first inside. Inside the gun store, we immediately started looking for anything to block off the window once they were in. There was no doubt in my mind that the window wasn’t going to hold once the Z’s attempted to get in.
As soon as Scot slid in, Baja and I jammed army fatigues into the hole, then piled several cabinets behind that but not before Scot fired a few more rounds. The noise of a gun going off inside was deafening.
Jessica came running out with Izzy close behind. I grabbed hold of her and we hugged. She kissed my face, and then the tears came.
“It’s alright. You’re safe now.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think any of us are.”
Izzy glared at Dax. They had some history, and a whole lot of bad blood between them. Dax had dumped her before he went off to the military. But I
“We’re going on a run for ammo, then food,” Dax said.
Scot still had a hard scowl on his face.
“Listen, a few of us should stay here. No point in all of us going,” I said.
That went over like a wet paper bag. After they unwound the wire, everyone piled out.
“Or, we can all go,” I finished.
----
T he gun store was a block and a half down from us on the other side of town. In between us were several burnt-out cars. Bodies were everywhere. There was no telling if they would rise as we navigated our way through them. It was like a fucking minefield of Z’s. Specs tied off the front of the bank so none of them could get in.
“We sprint it?” Specs said.
“We don’t have much choice,” Baja said.
It was true. There was no real way of doing this. You couldn’t exactly sneak along the side. There wasn’t enough cover. The moment we came out, Z’s were already heading our way. Their faces torn apart. Their groans filling the air.
“This is like Zombiegeddon, except these fuckers aren’t going to tear your tags off.”
“No. They are going to tear your balls off,” Specs replied.
“Fuck yeah,” Baja pumped the air with his fist like an overeager kid excited about obtaining a top score in a video game. I honestly don’t think he had fully clued into the danger that we were in.
“A block and a half, we can do this.”
We began to sprint. We started in a line, but then eventually formed into an arc. Scot was at the tail end, taking out any Z’s from behind. Dax led the way and Baja, well he was just all over the place, throwing out kicks as though this was a scene from Fists of Fury . Fucking guy had me in stitches. Though I was thoroughly convinced he had lost the plot when I saw him round house kick a zombie and the head flew off the Z’s shoulders.
“See that shit. That’s how we do it in the hood.”
“Dude, you are not even from the hood,” I said, shooting off round after round.
“What the fuck do you call this place?”
He had a point. Our town looked in worse shape than some of the housing projects in Harlem, New York.
“There’s too many,” Jason yelled. The gunfire was attracting a slew of Z’s that were piling out of the alleyways. But there was no going back. I had run out of ammo, and left my baseball bat back at the bank. Dax had used up all of his, and was now firing off the few rounds he had left in a Browning M2. All I could do was use my legs and kick them back.
“Just take out the fast ones,” Dax said.
The slow ones were easier to take down.
“We’re not going to make it,” Scot said.
I could recognize a lot of the Z’s, even though their faces had eyeballs hanging out, and they were beginning to rot. We were nearing the gun store when more gunfire started. However, it wasn’t ours. I looked up and saw on top of the roof, Jessica and Izzy. Both of them had assault rifles and were laying down some serious heat on the biters in front of us. As they cleared a path for us, I was more worried about being hit by a stray bullet than having one of the Z’s chew into my arm. We ran towards the opening where the cruiser was, and Baja and I were the first inside. Inside the gun store, we immediately started looking for anything to block off the window once they were in. There was no doubt in my mind that the window wasn’t going to hold once the Z’s attempted to get in.
As soon as Scot slid in, Baja and I jammed army fatigues into the hole, then piled several cabinets behind that but not before Scot fired a few more rounds. The noise of a gun going off inside was deafening.
Jessica came running out with Izzy close behind. I grabbed hold of her and we hugged. She kissed my face, and then the tears came.
“It’s alright. You’re safe now.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think any of us are.”
Izzy glared at Dax. They had some history, and a whole lot of bad blood between them. Dax had dumped her before he went off to the military. But I
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