peeked out his basement window. He couldn’t see much because the window was small, not even two feet wide and half that in height. There was also a hedge dividing his side yard from his neighbor’s. He could see the shuffling feet of the infected in the glow of the streetlight through the boughs of the hedge. There were many.
Paul could hear a consistent pounding on the front door of his house. He looked up the fifteen feet of stairs at the poorly-barricaded door. It was weak at best, but it was all he had. The pounding stopped, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He sat on the bottom step and surveyed his surroundings. There were a few tools he could use as bludgeoning weapons, but that meant he would need to get close, possibly infecting himself if he got infected fluids on him. He really didn’t want that, as he wasn’t sure how this disease was transmitted, and it seemed incredibly contagious. Paul put his head in his hands to think. He looked up at the basement window, and almost screamed. A pair of feet had appeared right outside the window. The feet trudged off to his back yard, and he was once again alone in the dark.
Some hours later, he heard screaming from out front. He went to the window and saw that another unfortunate victim had been taken down under a street light. Why the hell was everyone standing under the damn street lights, when the shadows were so much safer? Idiots . Paul saw some movement in his hedge, but couldn’t make out what it was. He backed away from the window, but not before something interesting came into view…
5
“Chris, on your six!”
“What?”
“BEHIND YOU!”
Chris turned in time to see a girl who looked to be in her late teens, with horrible lacerations on her throat lurch at him with bloody arms reaching. He brought up his .32 pistol and fired, but she was on him before he could get it above her waist. Chris ineffectively shot her in the stomach. She ploughed into him and they both went down, with her on top. He dropped the gun and reached for her throat with both hands. She had a vise-like grip on his shirt, and was growling and hissing, trying to bite him the whole time. He pushed her head up with a mighty shove, and the left side of her head exploded outward like a squeezed grape. A microsecond later he heard a loud report.
“GET UP! There’s more coming!” Rick shouted. Rick and Sam were beside Rick’s unmarked police Crown Victoria, Sam covering her ears with both hands. Rick was still sighting targets through the ACOG of his semi-automatic AR15A3. He plugged an elderly man, naked except for black socks. The man toppled backwards with a hole in his forehead.
The plan had been simple: Load up what they could in duffle bags, and get to the car. They weren’t ten steps out the door when Chris’s duffle strap snagged on a wrought iron tree-fence, and he fell backwards. He succeeded in freeing the strap, but not before a few infected had seen him. Rick didn’t notice this until he was fifty feet away at the car and found Chris missing. By this time, the infected were almost on Chris, and Rick had to fire.
Chris struggled loose of the dead weight on top of him, picked up his gun and duffle, and ran to the Crown Vic.
Rick put Sam in the front, and the gear in the back, while Chris jumped in the passenger side and quickly slammed the door shut.
“Mr. Barnes,” he said, “We’re drawing a crowd, hurry!”
Rick shut the back door, and hopped in the driver’s seat. He fumbled with the keys for a precious two seconds, and that was enough for the dead crowd. Rick started the car and put it in reverse. As he was turning his head to look behind him, a bloody palm smacked the driver’s side window, leaving a red smear.
“Buckle up, honey,” Rick told Sam. Rick threw the car into reverse and accelerated quickly, catching an unfortunate undead behind the car and grinding it under the wheels. They left the apartment building
Paul could hear a consistent pounding on the front door of his house. He looked up the fifteen feet of stairs at the poorly-barricaded door. It was weak at best, but it was all he had. The pounding stopped, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He sat on the bottom step and surveyed his surroundings. There were a few tools he could use as bludgeoning weapons, but that meant he would need to get close, possibly infecting himself if he got infected fluids on him. He really didn’t want that, as he wasn’t sure how this disease was transmitted, and it seemed incredibly contagious. Paul put his head in his hands to think. He looked up at the basement window, and almost screamed. A pair of feet had appeared right outside the window. The feet trudged off to his back yard, and he was once again alone in the dark.
Some hours later, he heard screaming from out front. He went to the window and saw that another unfortunate victim had been taken down under a street light. Why the hell was everyone standing under the damn street lights, when the shadows were so much safer? Idiots . Paul saw some movement in his hedge, but couldn’t make out what it was. He backed away from the window, but not before something interesting came into view…
5
“Chris, on your six!”
“What?”
“BEHIND YOU!”
Chris turned in time to see a girl who looked to be in her late teens, with horrible lacerations on her throat lurch at him with bloody arms reaching. He brought up his .32 pistol and fired, but she was on him before he could get it above her waist. Chris ineffectively shot her in the stomach. She ploughed into him and they both went down, with her on top. He dropped the gun and reached for her throat with both hands. She had a vise-like grip on his shirt, and was growling and hissing, trying to bite him the whole time. He pushed her head up with a mighty shove, and the left side of her head exploded outward like a squeezed grape. A microsecond later he heard a loud report.
“GET UP! There’s more coming!” Rick shouted. Rick and Sam were beside Rick’s unmarked police Crown Victoria, Sam covering her ears with both hands. Rick was still sighting targets through the ACOG of his semi-automatic AR15A3. He plugged an elderly man, naked except for black socks. The man toppled backwards with a hole in his forehead.
The plan had been simple: Load up what they could in duffle bags, and get to the car. They weren’t ten steps out the door when Chris’s duffle strap snagged on a wrought iron tree-fence, and he fell backwards. He succeeded in freeing the strap, but not before a few infected had seen him. Rick didn’t notice this until he was fifty feet away at the car and found Chris missing. By this time, the infected were almost on Chris, and Rick had to fire.
Chris struggled loose of the dead weight on top of him, picked up his gun and duffle, and ran to the Crown Vic.
Rick put Sam in the front, and the gear in the back, while Chris jumped in the passenger side and quickly slammed the door shut.
“Mr. Barnes,” he said, “We’re drawing a crowd, hurry!”
Rick shut the back door, and hopped in the driver’s seat. He fumbled with the keys for a precious two seconds, and that was enough for the dead crowd. Rick started the car and put it in reverse. As he was turning his head to look behind him, a bloody palm smacked the driver’s side window, leaving a red smear.
“Buckle up, honey,” Rick told Sam. Rick threw the car into reverse and accelerated quickly, catching an unfortunate undead behind the car and grinding it under the wheels. They left the apartment building
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