Daniel tripped over his feet and collapsed onto the cold tile floor. The sudden shots had startled him. The space was furnished with office desks and chairs; besides that it was empty. Nowhere to hide. Footsteps bounded for him. His only option was to run. He dashed toward the hallway, making a beeline through the furniture.
More shots rang out and he ducked. But he kept moving till he got to the emergency escape. He pushed open the door and ran up the stairs. He halted when he saw a crowd of crazies tearing into the man Dennis had shot. They'd gotten in somehow. But he clearly remembered blocking the door to the roof. Screeches echoed through the stairwell as the army of crazies fumbled over themselves to get to him. They didn't see well at night, Dennis had taught him, but they definitely heard his footsteps. Not wanting to be torn apart, he turned on his heel and went back into the hallway.
He closed the door as fast as he could before they could scratch him. They struck at the door but couldn't open it. He rested his head against the metal frame. He took deep breaths to try and settle his erratic heart rate. Just then footsteps approached him. Dennis and his friend, a man dressed in all black, a black cap, pants, jacket and boots. If it weren't for the faint flickering hallway light, he wouldn't have seen him. In his hand, was a gun with no silencer on it.
Daniel glanced around like a cornered rabbit. But he didn't know where to run. The man raised the gun and aimed it at his chest. He trembled. He was sure he was done for and squinted his eyes waiting for the final shot.
They giggled. Daniel opened an eye to see both men laughing. Dennis who wasn't much of a jokester had a grin plastered on his face. The man lowered his gun.
"We're not gonna kill you, Danny," Dennis said between bouts of laughter.
"What are you gonna do?" Daniel whimpered.
The smiles disappeared in a snap. The man raised the gun and fired. Daniel flew back and his head banged into the metal panel. He slid down to the floor. The burning smell of gunpowder suffocated him. Then everything faded into darkness.
~~~~~ 10 Days After~~~~~
~~Stinger~~
It had been about a week and a half since the world went to shit. A city that used to bustle with life, laughter and fun was now crawling with bloodthirsty shells of humans. Stinger didn't have much of a life before this, hell, he wanted the city to burn most nights, but this, this was way beyond what he wanted.
His legs were crossed on the table and he leaned his chair so far back that another inch would cause him to fall. Empty bottles of beer, rum and whatever else he found on the shelves rolled around the legs of the tables and chairs. And the wooden table was covered in cigarette buds and ash. The only light he turned on in the dusty bar was pointed at the semi-torn map of Kingston that he'd taped to the far wall. It hung on for dear life as the tape wore out its adhesive.
