{ON HOLD} Where My Loyalties Lie (Vanoss Crew Fanfic)

Chapter 26

Immediately, I felt the familiar cold, gut-wrenching feeling of fear gripping my body as the zombies turned to face us. Their sightless, starved eyes angrily watched the three of us as we stood there, frozen for a moment, before they let out their moans and wails and began to shuffle towards us. For a second, I was struck with the vision of the horde of zombies that had nearly infiltrated the base stumbling towards the walls. But just like when I was on the wall defending our home, my instincts and my old criminal skills kicked in - I raised my AK47 and began to pour lead into the crowd of zombies. When the first bark of the AK47 rang out in the corridor, Jonathan and Marcel too began to fire their own guns.

The zombies just ignored the bullets that were shredding through their bodies, continuing towards us with determination. Panicking slightly, I shouted while taking down one of the zombies with a shot to the head, "Guys, back up! Get into the stairwell!" Jonathan stopped firing first and turned around, sprinting through the doorway, and Marcel was soon to follow. After I was sure that they had enough time to make it to the floor below, I too turned and ran into the stairwell. I heard the desperate moans of the zombies behind me as I took the stairs two at a time, and I caught a glimpse of Marcel's fleeting shadow moving through the doorway below me.

Coming through the door, I vaulted over the makeshift barricade and found Marcel and Jonathan crouched behind it. They startled a bit as I landed next to them and took cover. "Hey," I panted, gripping my AK47 tighter in my arms, "How are you guys on ammo?" My battle oriented mind had already taken over, and my commander-of-the-battlefield personality had come out. They both checked their pockets and their clips. As they did, I nervously peeked over the top of the barrier and saw the shadows of the unorganized mass of zombies clambering down the stairs, and I could hear the scratching of their feet on the concrete. Those zombies were going to be on us, very soon.

"I still got three clips for my MP5 and two for my M9," Jonathan announced, slamming the clip for his MP5 back into the gun. Marcel had the same amount for his carbine rifle and M9, and he glanced over the top of the barricade as I checked over my ammo. He abruptly stood up, his dark skin a complete shade paler, and he began to back pedal away from us. "Guys!" Marcel shouted, quickly firing off a few rounds from his carbine rifle over our heads, "Move!"

Jonathan and I scrambled to our feet, alarmed by Marcel's panicked warning – and just in time. The moment after the two of us moved a zombie swiped its twisted, rotting hand through the air where we had just been sitting. It growled at us as all three of us backed away from the barricade towards the door at the end of the hallway. It clumsily clambered over the barricade while keeping its eyes on us, the other zombies behind us stumbling and shuffling towards the barricade.

Turns out they came down the stairs a lot quicker than I thought they would.

The three of us opened fire in unison, filling the air with hot projectiles of lead and the harsh bark of gunfire. Many of the zombies fell to the hailstorm of bullets, others slowed down either by shots to the legs or arms, but most of them continued to shamble towards us. They growled in annoyance as our bullets hit them, tearing their rotten and festered flesh away from their frail bodies. Marcel, Jonathan and I continued to hold down the triggers on of rifles until we heard the telltale sound of an empty magazine. "Shit!" I cursed, ejecting my spent magazine out of my AK47 while backing up, and I reached for another magazine that was inside my back pocket. As I struggled to get the magazine out of my pocket, Jonathan managed to reload and yet again began to fire out into the mass of bodies stumbling towards us.

Unfortunately, Marcel's gun decided to tell us to go fuck ourselves, and jammed as he slid the new magazine into the carbine rifle. "FUCK! My gun's jammed!" He swore loudly, letting the rifle hang from its strap. He pulled his M9 out from the holster he wore on his waist and fired out into the crowd of zombies.