Zombie Hour (sequel to zombie game)

chapter 30

30

A few moments later Joe was being shaken away by an unfamiliar man dressed in army fatigues and carrying a M-16 assault rifle. He had small stubble along his cheek, and a couple of scars stretching across his forehead. Joe looked up at the man, confusedly.

“Colonel Henderson,” said the man, saluting. Henderson raised his machine gun and emptied a round into a group of advancing zombies.

“W—who are you?” asked Joe. “I mean I know your name, but where did you come from?”

“There is a group of us a bit farther down. We had heard things about this place, and we were planning on raiding it anyway. So now I am here, with a bunch of soldiers, here to rescue you.” He looked up and saw an enraged George jump to his feet, and race toward Henderson. Joe rolled out of the path of George and jumped to his feet, raising his foot, and slamming it into his gut. He fell to the ground, reeling, breath knocked out of him. Joe whipped around and started to run. He saw more zombies pouring into the room, as well as more guards dressed in black, engaging in combat with the soldiers. Joe saw a man slump forward, trying to catch his guts. He nearly vomited.

The metallic smell of blood filled the air.

Joe saw a grenade being hurled through the air, heard it clatter against the metal floor, and he saw the fireball ripping through the floor. Joe grabbed a machine gun from a bleeding corpse, placed it against the floor, slumped forward, and pulled the trigger, spraying a group of slowly advancing guards. Blood splattered from the two bodies as they were flung backward by the force of the bullets. Joe emptied a clip into a group of guards, bullets ripping through their bodies, blood spraying out of all the holes in their bodies. He slid the clip out of the gun and turned around, seeing a guard advance upon him. He swung the gun like a club, taking out the man, breaking his neck with the blow of the gun. He grabbed the man's machine gun, ejected the clip from that and put it into his own gun. He whipped around and pulled the trigger, smiling like a madman, taking out a group of men as well as zombies with one feral sweep across the room.

Tom dived again into the group of zombies, but this time it was harder, since, of course, he also had to contend with the gunfire that completely surrounded him, drowning out all the hungry, bloodthirsty moans of the zombies. A guard raced toward Tom, but Tom swung his sword backward, slicing the man's throat to ribbons, blood splashing the floor, creating a slick surface. He stabbed another man through the side of the head, the blade crushing the skull and driven into the brain, instantly killing the guard. He pulled the sword out of the soft, mushy brain and swung it around, taking a zombie just under the chin. Hot blood washed over his entire arm.

He pulled the sword out, drew his pistol, and blasted several zombies to hell, before pivoting around again with the sword, cutting the heads off three guards. Blood squirted from the stump of the neck. Tom stabbed a zombie through the chest and then shot its head off.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

A couple of zombies traipsed into the path of gunfire, therefore getting their heads blown off. Tom turned around and shot three advancing guards, watching as they flew through the air, jets of dark blood squirting from the wounds.

Joe saw Tom splattered in blood.

He then turned his head around, swinging up the machine gun, and opening fire, killing two guards and shooting a third in the leg. Screams and gunfire were heard.

George was running down a balcony, clutching his bloody arm. He would not escape—he would not fucking escape. Joe bounded toward the staircase, flying up the steps two at a time, trying to catch up to George—to kill him—once and for all. He stopped for moment when he saw three zombies lumbering for him, arms outstretched—but only for a moment. After he had awakened from his brief daze, he raised the machine gun and emptied the clip into the three zombies, blowing their heads off, blood splashing through the air, splattering the floor in front of Joe. He raced toward George, nearly slipping on the blood, and was about to get to the opposite platform, but there was a couple of pistol shots from above and he looked up, surprised at what he saw. The man was standing there—the man who had been killed—sitting there with a gaping, bloody hole in his chest, shooting at Joe. His expression didn't seem right though—he had the look of hunger in his eyes that all the zombies did, and realization suddenly hit Joe like a shit load of bricks; the man had turned into a zombie, but he was more intelligent of a zombie, able to fire weapons, to talk normally, but still with the insatiable need to feed.