BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

OZTS 3| Graveyard

"Its like a graveyard," Mrs. Blake whispered, her hands covering her mouth. Her eyes were wide, staring around us in horror.

Piles of stinking dead bodies were scattered all around us, and there were even some bones. Its as if a bomb had exploded and left a massive morgue on its wake. Thousand of flies were buzzing above them, like some kind of a backward halo. I swallowed my nausea.

"What happened here?" I said.

Apparently, the others seemed to be thinking the same, because their faces were a mirror of my own: confused and baffled horror.

"The bodies are new," Hazel said, prodding with one toe the dead body nearest to her. It had two missing legs and its internal organs were peeping out, along with its rib cage. "I don't suppose one of the zombies was celebrating his birthday and got this as buffet?"

"Zombies don't have time thinking, much less celebrating." Surprisingly, it was Christian who said this. "It looks to me more like a group of people was fleeing and the zombies all around the city must have smelled them and launched a full out attack."

Hazel glanced at him. "I know that, Mr. Serious and Solemn. I was just joking."

She looked back at the body. "But you're right. Its as if all the humans on a thousand mile radius went here and got feasted on by zombies."

"Well, its certainly no use for us to dawdle here to investigate," Mr. Williams interjected, walking again. "They're already dead. Let's just hope we don't end like them and keep moving."

Dragging our eyes reluctantly from the morbid spectacle, we followed Hazel's father, falling into the line again. I glanced at the sun.

"We should hurry," I called out to them. "Its going to be night soon."

As one, they all looked at the setting sun, their pace getting quicker and more brisk, all eager to be inside a safe shelter before night came. Zombies had excellent night vision, and since we didn't, they have the advantage. 

"I wish Az was here," Hazel grumbled. "He'd have found us a home to sleep by now."

Az, a nickname for Azrael, was Hazel's pet dog, a Siberian Husky. He had died during her journey to the quarantine, and she told me how he could smell a good hiding place from miles away, sniffing the house with the least blood and gore. I could tell she missed him.

It was almost near to twilight when we decided to stake out a small-looking house, with blinds covering its windows and a fence surrounding its small yard. We were about to enter when Christian suddenly stopped and turned around, and since he was in front, caused quite a small traffic. Following his gaze, I felt my heartbeat skip. 

A zombie was staggering towards us, about thirty meters away. I could hear faintly the keening sounds he uttered, and as his red eyes fixed eerily on us, I felt myself shiver.

Hazel drew her shotgun. "We should let him get a little nearer before we shoot," she said. "Right through the brain, so that we'll only use one bullet."

I drew my gun out and strode confidently in front of them. "I'll do it."

They all looked surprised, and I couldn't help but feel offended about their doubt on my skills.

"You can shoot that far?" Ethan asked dubiously.

"Yes," I snapped at him, bristling. "I'm an excellent shooter."

To prove my point, I sighted, and taking a deep breath, positioned my legs into the classic shooter stance. As I let my breath out in one long whoosh, I fired.