"Before Dawn"

Chapter 24: Down in the Dirt

The Sig Sauers kick as Dawn pulls the trigger at the advancing ghouls. She drops two with shots to the head—the necessary target to kill them. Chest-shots don't do shit to ghouls, even with holy rounds. Her adrenaline is pumping, but she's calm, cognizant of the fact that she can't afford to fire off any rounds in vain. Everything is happening so fast, and the ghouls are coming from everywhere. Dawn takes a few steps here, a few paces there, as she fires at her moving targets. Ghouls drop left and right—dead from shots to the head or slowed from her ballistic assault. Then the slides of her pistols stay racked to the rear. Her clips are empty and she has to reload—and quick!

Dawn thumbs the eject releases of her Sig Sauers. A ghoul pops up on her left with his arm cocked back ready to bash her with a pole. She beats him to the punch with a hard jam to his face with a pistol. He reels backwards, and Dawn follows up with a spinning, sweeping leg hook to the legs. The ghoul falls onto his back. Dawn manages to get one of her fresh clips into one of the pistols. She releases the slide on her reloaded pistol and she's ready to rock-and-roll again. Just in time, too. The ghoul she'd dropped to the ground is on her again—she shoots him in the head—and he's on the ground for good this time. Two more ghouls are on her left and right flanks. She kills one of them and then the other with ease. As she blasts away, Dawn feels as though she's coming out on top as she sees all the bodies on the ground. She's wrong. Way wrong.

More ghouls are coming out of the woodwork like termites. Dawn slays more ghouls, emptying her clip. She reaches into her cargo pocket for the last clip. She's grabbed from behind, lifted off of the ground and thrown through the air like a rag doll. Dawn has enough presence of mind to remember to fall into a roll once her body makes contact with the dirt. She hits the ground and rolls onto her knees, pulling the last clip from her pocket. A ghoul with a steering wheel in his hand is running toward her. She shoots him in the knee to drop him. He falls a few feet from her, and she shoots him in the head to finish him. Dawn see's brain matter sail into the air and drift to the ground.

The ghouls have overrun the demolition track now, their screeches and clacking teeth a horrific and melodic rhythm of evil intentions. She's firing from the kneeling position, adjusting to her erratically moving targets. The Sig Sauer slide racks to the rear—empty. Both pistols are no good to Dawn now, all of her ammunition is depleted.

A ghoul lunges at her with a fire-extinguisher and tries to hit her with it. Dawn dives to her right and rolls out of the way, but the ghoul—a female with frizzy, pure white hair—is fast with her follow-up attack. She swings at her again with the fire-extinguisher and hits Dawn on the side of her thigh. Thwack! The blow is so strong that not even the adrenaline masks the hurt of the blunt force. Dawn screams out in pain. The ghoul has hurt her—and really pissed her off. She releases her pistols, rolls to her feet, and draws her wakizashis from their scabbards. Frizzy-hair swings at her again but Dawn is ready this time. She ducks under it and with one of her blades, she counter-strikes and cuts off her enemy's head. The head falls to the dirt—thunk—with frizzy-hair's mouth wide open. Her golden irises are fading as she dies. That's the first ghoul to fall by Dawn's swords.

The relentless ghouls are in a frenzy and attacking with vigor. Dawn is meeting their charge with her wakizashis in violent display of power and precision. Her footwork is precise and well-placed. Sparks fly as she blocks crowbars, poles, and other metal objects meant to do her more harm. She returns their offense with deadly attacks of her own. Power is in the wrist Cat had told her, and she's seeing evidence of that. She's cutting off hands, legs, arms, and more heads as she defends and attacks. Ghoul blood and guts have soiled the ground around her. She's fighting well—kicking ass—but she knows she can't keep this up much longer. She's getting tired again, and even adrenaline won't be able to give her a second wind. She has to get back to the van, just get the hell out of there—and abandon Wesley. She glances over at his silhouette and he's still standing there.