In Hiding: A Survivors Journal of the Great Outbreak by ichael Elliott Page B

there was nothing there
except for a white concrete wall and it was forcing me to go to my right. I
could hear the sound much clearer at that point. My heart was pounding and I
could feel my palms getting damp.

 
    It
felt like an eternity passed in-between each and ever step as I moved along the
wall and prepared to look around the corner into the main part of the washroom.
Kerri followed close behind with her baseball bat in the air ready to swing. I
was just hoping it was a woman trapped in a bathroom stall.

 
    I
turned the corner and raised the shotgun trying to remember not to pull the
trigger unless I had too. That was when I saw it. A man roughly six feet tall
and very stocky was pounding on the door of the middle stall. The lack of color
in his face and his clumsy movements told me that he had been infected. We
should have gone back. We should have went and found the others. But instead I
made a stupid mistake.

 
    I
asked if he was okay.

 
    It
was the first thing that came to mind and to this day I still can’t believe
that I made that mistake. I should have known better even then. That was when
the man turned away from the door slowly, his head jerked around in horrifying
fashion and he looked directly at me.

 
    His
eyes were focused on me and he started stumbling towards Kerri and I. The
washroom wasn’t that big. There wasn’t that much room to begin with and he was
starting to close in quickly. I could see the blood on the sleeve of his shirt.
He had scratches from fingernails that covered his neck. He labored with each
step and his head jerked back and forth as he tried to pick up his pace and
close the gap between us.

 
    I
warned him to stop. I told him to stay where he was. I was trying to reason
with him. But I should have known better. He took another step closer. I don’t
know why I expected him to listen. I made the same mistake that Anne had made.
It was the same mistake that the cop had made earlier that morning.

 
    I
warned him again. I told him I would shoot. I warned him. I find it funny that
when people swear that they are going to shoot, it usually means that they
won’t. So I swore again that I would fire if he took one step closer.

 
    I
could hear Kerri whisper in my ear to shoot him. I knew that was supposed to be
a last resort. But the thing in front of us had clearly shaken her. Hell it had
shaken me. He was getting closer.

 
    She
pleaded with me to shoot him but I was ignoring her. I was trying to line up my
shot and go through the check list that Anne had given me in our quick tutorial
on how to use the shotgun. I tucked the stock firmly in my shoulder like I was
supposed too. I aimed like I was supposed too and then I went to squeeze the
trigger like I was supposed too.

 
    Nothing.

 
    There
was a scream from behind me and I remember trying to squeeze the trigger again.
Nothing happened. Then I did what every idiot does in the movies when the gun
doesn’t work. I looked down at it for a spit second as if I would be able to
recognize what the problem was. That was when I felt a hand grab the front of
my shirt and I knew I was in trouble.

 
    There
was yelling and screaming and my mind started to race. I raised the gun up and
stuck it sideways into the man’s neck. His other hand grabbed a hold of my
shoulder and I just kept pushing his face back as hard as I could. Jamming the
gun with as much force as I could into his neck. I pushed him back against the
wall and then he forced me back out into the middle of the washroom. That was
when I saw the bat come flying around from behind me.

 
    The
bat struck the face of the Zed and it knocked him back a few steps. I had to
give it to Kerri. She hit him hard and she had bought me some time. Then she
stepped between the man and me and started swinging the bat widely back and
forth. She hit him in the arm, she hit him in the shoulder, and then she struck
him with everything she had right in the chest. It was