Blood splattered across the floor, I fell on my knees, clutching my pistol in my hand. Gaining control of my body, I leaped up, and shot the infected right in the middle of it's forehead. It slowly leaned back, and slammed on the floor. I spun my pistol, and sheathed it on my thigh. Nate slowly got up, kicking the infected off of him. He groaned, blood on his baseball jerseu, and he walked next to me. He looked me as if to say, let's go. I nodded, and we walked through the empty city. The only sound was infected groaning loudly, and our feet walking across the street. I noticed a car, next to us. I nudged Nate with my elbow, and pointed at the car.
"Wonder what's in this baby," He replied, walking up to it. He tugged it open, and a body fell out. I stumbled back, and the infected crawled towards me. Nate stomped on it's head, blood splattered everywhere. Nate then looked around in the car for a minute. His head popped out of it, and shook his head. "Not a single thing of use, unless you want a Peppa pig t-shirt, you a medium?" He smirked, and I sighed and rolled my eyes. I adjusted my flannel, and looked around. My white t-shirt, was clean, but after the spread of the infection, stained with blood and dirt. I have on blue jeans, and black combat boots. A couple sheaths on my leg, one my left leg for a UZI, and one on my right leg, for my pistol. An assault rifle strapped on my back, and my backpack stuffed with ammo, water, and some food. Nate and I have been scavenging anything we can find, for almost a month? How long since this infection happened? Near a month. Nate's black baseball jersey, a black long sleeve shirt under it, and the logo on the jersey faded away, covered with a lot of blood, and a red flannel tied on his waist. His black jeans a bit dirty. He has a sheath near his ankle, for a knife, and a sheath on his upper leg for a pistol. A sniper strapped on his backpack, and a red backpack on. He has on a black beanie, and some hair sticking out, covering his left eye, and brown boots. Our backpacks are loaded with more guns, and we have been looking for a car to drive. The sun glared on my face, and I checked my digital watch. 2:01.
"We have a couple more hours til the sun goes down, then we gotta go the Warehouse," I sighed in response, and motioned for him to follow me. I led the way, turning and dodging infected. Haven't found any alive, only infected. Some dead bodies, not yet clasped in the hands of the fungus that spread like wild fire. We turned a corner, when an infected slashed at my face. I quickly dodged, and a knife sliced through his hand, and the infected's hand slammed on the floor. Nate sliced the infected's jaw, and I elbowed his face. I grabbed the infected's head, and slammed it in a sharp pole. It twitched, and stopped moving. Nate spun his knife and slipped it in it's sheath, and buttoned it. I cracked my knuckles, and stomped on the infected's back, and it slid down the pole even further, blood dripping down the pole. Blood dripping on the sidewalk, and we continued on. Trudging through the deserted city for hours, scavenging in stores for ammo, and some water or food. The sun started to go down, and I glanced at Nate. Already running in the direction of the Warehouse. I ran after him, catching up quickly. He ran ahead, and I ran past him, seeing the Warehouse in the distance, already. The Warehouse is a warehouse, obviously, where we stay. Our food and water is there, and we empty our backpacks there. If we were to move, we'd need several bags and boxes. I grunted, tripping over a body, and face planting on the rough street. I felt something wet and sticky drip down my face, and I groaned, putting my hands under me and pushing myself up. My hand went to my forehead, and looked at my fingertips. Blood covered it, and I wiped it. Nate put a hand on my shoulder, and we ran toward the Warehouse.
I stopped in front of it, clasping my hands on my knees, gulping in air. Nate walked up to the huge doors, and turned the handles and looked at me. I nodded, and ran up to the doors, and pushed as hard as I could. Nate did the same, grunting in the struggle to open the huge doors. It creaked open, and I screamed and pushed it open completely. I stumbled in, and looked around. I pulled my flip lighter out of my pocket, and lit it. I lit a couple of torches, and the whole warehouse was brightened. Cans of food in boxes, lined it, and a bunk bed stood in one corner. I have the bottom one, Nate the top. We agreed, because I have more experience in hand to hand combat, and shooting a gun. Though Nate can shoot a infected from a long distance away. I'm just more skilled in hand to hand combat, and quick punches. Nate closed the doors, and shoved a huge metal bar between the handles, and did more for security. The Warehouse is surrounded by huge spikes, and a huge metal gate. No infected can climb it, only Nate and I can. Plus we have keys. Infected are to stupid to turn the handle and push it open. Nate slipped out of his shoes, and neatly put them next to the doors. He then yawned, and sat on the comfortable sofa we managed to steal. Took a long time, but we managed. He slung his backpack off, and unzipped it. He turned it upside down, and an array of guns and ammo fell out, then a some water. I sat next to him, and did the same. More food fell out of mine, and then my guns.
