Zombie Army Trilogy - An Unforeseen Alliance

The Russian who saw Hell

Karl took the necessary ammunition he had needed for later, some basic rifle magazines, and some ammo for his thompson and colt. He had also strapped on some grenades and dynamites for emergency uses.

The doctor meanwhile, had a little more time choosing the most suited rifle for himself, checking the trigger and scopes of every rifle available in the safe house. Karl had already taken a seat on the sofa from waiting for the picky man to choose his desired weapon.

"We don't have all day," Karl finally spoke, "We need to get going,"

"Ja ja, okay," The doctor finally strapped a Lee Enfield Mk. III onto his back, accompanied with an mp44 and a luger.

They made their way out of the safe house, and the door snapped shut after the doctor walked out, the light turned red.

So much for unlimited supplies.

"So vhere are we going Karl?" The doctor enquired.

Karl took out a map of Berlin, "My intern told me we would probably find him here," Karl pointed to an 'X' on the map, "We're just not certain about his exact location, so we'll need to scout,"

"Scout? As in, separate from each other?" Schwaiger looked nervous.

"Yes, scout," The sniper smirked when he saw his concerned face, "What? You scared of going on yourself?"

Dr Schwaiger pointed a finger at him, "Don't go assuming zhings about me when we haven't even introduced ourselved properly!"

Karl snorted at the comment. Well, he did scream when getting attacked by the zombies, and that first impression would forever be etched in his mind.

"Vhat are you laughing at?"

Karl merely ignored him and started walking towards their destination.

The location wasn't far from their position, and they had made it to their destination in just an hour, along with some fighting on the way.

"I don't see him anyvhere," 

Karl sighed, "That's why I told you doc, we need to scout," he gave the doctor a pat on the shoulder before going a different direction.

The streets were too silent, too silent even for a deserted town. There wasn't a groan or any sounds that would signify zombie presences anywhere, and Karl had found it weird.

Sounds of footsteps disturbed the silence, and Karl held up his rifle in response. Still there wasn't any signs of zombies anywhere, the footstep was too controlled, too human for zombies.

Karl turned around upon hearing another footstep, only to see a hammer flying towards him.

Wait, hammer?

Karl could only slump backwards as it hit him in his head, blacking out seconds after the impact.

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"Karl? Karl! Can you hear me? Karl!!"

The sniper snapped awake as he felt hands on his face, slapping him awake.

"Ah! He's come to! Gut, gut!" Schwaiger seemed proud of himself.

"What's going on? The Russian-"

Karl paused as he saw a massive looking human hold out his hand to him, at which he accepted. The Russian pulled him up and proceeded to strap his PPSH-41 on his back.

"Boris Medvedev," He merely said as he pointed at himself, "I am very sorry for what happened just now," He spoke with a heavy Russian accent.

Karl then remembered the incident before he was knocked out. The footsteps, the hammer-

"You're the one that threw the hammer?" Karl stepped towards the Russian, who responded by raising his hands.

"I said it was mistake, my fault Американская,"

Karl decided to ignore the strange word he had just uttered. He merely massaged his already bandaged head.

Great, another bump to the head.

"Vhat now, Karl? You have found us, vhere do we go now?"

Karl snapped out from his thoughts as he listened to the doctor. Right, he would need to signal for the pilot, he just needed to find a radio station.

"Do anyone of you know any radio station anywhere?" 

The two simply shrugged and shook their head as they heard the sniper.

Great.

Karl opened his map again as he tried to make a rough pin-point location of the station he always knew.

"There is one here, but we would need a vehicle to get there,"

"There is one there," Boris pointed to the ruined cars, save for a truck which still looked operational, "I can help start up engine,"

An engineer, then? Or just jack-of-all-trades?

He did claim he saw hell in his description. 

Only then did Karl notice the street clean of zombies. That might have explained it all.

This man was born to survive, this zombie menace was nothing to him, he had just wiped the street clean of zombies.

Karl was impressed, at the very least. The Russian had some skill that would prove useful for any attacks they were to encounter any time.

"It is up," Boris said once again in that Russian accented English, and the truck started up with a rev.

"Vunderbar!" Schwaiger exclaimed as they made their way towards the truck.

Karl took the wheel as they piled in at the back, and he started driving.

For now, he would just need to find that radio station and get out of here. 

They would need luck on their side now more than ever.