The zombie game

Chapter 33

Joe threw himself to the right, watching as the woman ran way from the two dead men that were slumped to the ground. He went to the left and bounded over a table, tackling a guard, and pounding with all his might toward the entrance. A scream cut through the air and Joe slid to a stop on the globs of black blood—he whipped around and saw a familiar face ducking behind a military truck, fighting for his life. Joe waved at him when he appeared from behind the truck, shooting guard after guard. The guard acknowledged Joe with a brief wave before tossing a grenade over his shoulder. The impact of the explosion rocked the building, a fireball ripping through the cement sidewalk, smoke billowing from the blast.

Joe turned around and fired a couple of brief rounds into a couple of guards. A bright splash of red splattered across the wall in an obscure pattern. Tom was ducking under a desk, shooting his pistol at the guards, and Linda stabbed a few of them, sending them flying through the air on jets of arterial blood.

Joe pivoted around on the balls of his feet and saw a guard creeping up behind him, machine gun raised—he squeezed a round into the man. Blood splashed the wall. He fired another couple of shots and then the gun clicked.

He threw the gun away to the ground.

A guard tried grabbing him from behind, but he ducked, whipped around with his foot up and took the man under the chin with the blow of the foot, breaking his elongated jaw. He raced toward the limp body and grabbed a .357 magnum from his grasp, turned around in a 180 and fired, the loud crack cutting above all the other clatters of gunfire. The kick from the gun wretched Joe's arm back and he nearly fell to the ground.

He ducked as a man with a shotgun came into view, aimed the gun, and fired. Joe dived behind the wall, the pellets from the shotgun creating holes—craters even—in the wall. He whipped around from the corner of the wall and fired a bullet into the man. The soldier fell to the ground in a mist of blood—but then he reappeared, his arm streaming blood.

He held the shotgun in front of him with his good hand.

He fired.

It seemingly went in slow motion. The shotgun shell knicked the wall right beside Joe's head—Joe ducked out of the way and nearly screamed, afraid for his life. He turned around and fired, shooting the man in the head. The man's head arced backward in a ninety degree angle, blood and brains splattering from the top of his cranium.

Joe heard a noise behind him.

He turned his head around and Dave was on him.