The zombie game

chapter 21

It was in the morning when Joe and Ken were told to go inside. They had been working all night on miscellaneous things for Dave, slaving away with little to know sleep. And the whether hadn't helped much either. It had not cooled down very much while they were outside in the night, so they were still sweating by the time the sun came up on another stiflingly hot day. Dave had come out just after the sun had come up and walked toward them, telling them they could go in, which was a relief because they were both exhausted. Joe walked through the hallway and fell down on his makeshift bed and was instantly asleep. Ken did the same.

An hour later Dave came into the cell. “Wake up,” he said, rather sternly. Joe didn't stir. Neither did Ken. Dave walked toward Joe, slamming his foot into the sleep figures side, causing him to jolt awake and groan with pain.

“What?” started Joe.

“Get up,” said Dave again.

“But I hardly got...”

“I don't give a shit,” said Dave. “Now get the fuck up before I shoot and your friend.” Joe slowly got up from his bed and walked toward Ken, pushing him and jostling him awake.

“What's going?” he muttered.

“Get the hell up!” roared Dave. He lunged his big, meaty hands toward Ken and grabbed him by the legs, jerking him to the side, and sending him tumbling to the ground in a heap. Ken staggered up from this and sat on the bed.

“Be out there in five minutes, or something bad will happen,” warned Dave. Joe and Ken got ready and three minutes later they were out the door and into the backyard of the warehouse. Rows and rows of leaves were sprouting from the ground—it looked like a vegetable garden.

“Now you have to pick all the vegetables. I have planted my own garden to get and make food for everyone. I need to harvest. Guards will be watching your every move so don't try anything,” said Dave.

“Alright,” said Joe. He and Ken knelt down and began to pick vegetables.

It was around midday when it happened. It was something deadly—dangerous—but it was also something that saved them. A white van had stopped right in front of the warehouse, and a handful of men dressed in military fatigues and carrying silenced weapons shot a couple of zombies and raided the warehouse. A chatter of loud gunfire was heard from within, as well as screams.

Joe and Ken dropped what they were doing and raced toward the gunfight. A couple of guards spotted them and opened fire, bullets trailing across the dirt. Joe crouched right at the doorway and saw smoke drifting between the cracks. More gunfire from above.

Joe dropped to the ground narrowly avoiding the bullets.

A couple of screams coming from the warehouse.

Joe pushed open the door and Ken and Joe sprinted inside. Joe crouched against the wall and peered around. A man fell in a bloody pool. Another man, one of Dave's guards, pinwheeled backward in a mask of blood. Another man took several round through the chest.

And Dave was just standing there. Watching. Nobody had noticed him yet, which for him, was a good thing. Joe saw him take out a pistol. A door ruptured from behind him. Dave grabbed the machine gun of an unexpected figure and slammed the butt of it into the man's face. Blood burst from his crunched nose. Dave raised his pistol and fired. The man crumpled to the ground in a bloody heap.

The battle commenced.

“We should get out of here while we can,” said Joe, almost having to shout over the coughing of gunfire.

“I know,” said Ken, whipping around. They reached the doorway and sprinted out into the field. People were running around—slaves and guards alike—trying to be useful against this surprise attack. An explosion rocked the building. Joe twirled around and saw a fireball erupting from the window toward the top.