another wall of them.
“That is like Space Invaders,” Baja remarked before letting out a laugh and sticking a knife into a Z’s head. Fucking guy had an odd sense of humor.
Baja was referring to the 1980s Atari game that his father owned. It was a piece of history, and something he only brought out on special occasions. Usually his birthday.
By the time we made it to the other side, we were covered in blood. You couldn’t tell if it was ours, from the guy beside us, or just zombie flesh. From head to toe, we were dripping in the nastiest, rotten, decaying gunk that you could imagine. It felt as if we had just done an intense session of cardio. I had my hands on my knees, trying to catch a breath.
As we stood behind the glass doorway between us and the Z’s that were wandering around the streets, Dax laid out his plan of how we were going to get over to the bank. None of us had considered the thought that it might have been overrun by biters. No, we were going there, because the mighty Dax said so.
I tuned out as he rattled on like an army commander bellowing orders to his platoon. My eyes were fixed on the police station. I could see movement behind the main windows, but I couldn’t tell who it was.
“So are we ready?”
I felt a slap on the arm.
“Did you hear one word of what I said?”
I nodded, still trying to adjust to the fact that we were still alive. Everything felt surreal.
“Now focus.”
Dax pulled back the door and we filed out behind him onto the sidewalk like a line of ants hugging the wall. There was a low mist that hovered through the town like a ghost. It made the place seem even creepier. Z’s immediately noticed us and once again we found ourselves moving fast and shooting. Many of the shots didn’t hit them in the head. It was hard to hit accurately while running.
“Keep up,” Dax yelled.
We were a few feet from the entrance of the bank when I finally could see who the figure was in the window at the station. I squinted. By now the others had made it to the bank and Dax was already inside.
“Dad?”
I began changing direction and heading towards the police station. Specs spotted me.
“Dude, where are you going?”
“That’s my father.”
I fired round after round taking out Z’s, oblivious to the fact that every shot would only bring more of them. Dax came out. I only knew this because he shouted my name.
“Johnny. Get back here.”
The police station was surrounded by a high metal fence with barb wire at the top. I don’t know if they built it because they thought it looked cool, or whether it was some part of the mind tricks that they liked to use on anyone thinking of breaking the law. Within its fenced walls Z’s were roaming around the burnt-out cars like buzzards hovering around dead carcasses. I dropped down low behind a cruiser that had barely made it out the front entrance before it must have been stopped by a horde of Z’s. The windows were busted up. The door was wide open. Dried blood now streaked the doorframe. No one was inside. Only the faint crackle of the radio could be heard.
Dax and Specs sprinted over. The others stayed inside the bank.
“You better have a good reason for this.”
“It’s dad, look.”
Dax looked towards the open door before ducking back down.
“He’s secure. But we’re not.”
Dax’s eyes darted back and forth between the path that led back to the bank and a group of Z’s that were heading our way. They were the slow-moving suckers. Several were dragging their feet as if they had snapped at the ankles. Their moans were getting louder.
“I’m not leaving without him.”
“How the hell do you know he’s not one of them?”
“I don’t. But we need to at least try,” I replied.
He grabbed hold of my collar. “Listen, you asshole. You are going to get us all killed. Look at how many are in front of the station.”
I peered over. There had to have been at least twenty pressed up against the doors.
“Even
“That is like Space Invaders,” Baja remarked before letting out a laugh and sticking a knife into a Z’s head. Fucking guy had an odd sense of humor.
Baja was referring to the 1980s Atari game that his father owned. It was a piece of history, and something he only brought out on special occasions. Usually his birthday.
By the time we made it to the other side, we were covered in blood. You couldn’t tell if it was ours, from the guy beside us, or just zombie flesh. From head to toe, we were dripping in the nastiest, rotten, decaying gunk that you could imagine. It felt as if we had just done an intense session of cardio. I had my hands on my knees, trying to catch a breath.
As we stood behind the glass doorway between us and the Z’s that were wandering around the streets, Dax laid out his plan of how we were going to get over to the bank. None of us had considered the thought that it might have been overrun by biters. No, we were going there, because the mighty Dax said so.
I tuned out as he rattled on like an army commander bellowing orders to his platoon. My eyes were fixed on the police station. I could see movement behind the main windows, but I couldn’t tell who it was.
“So are we ready?”
I felt a slap on the arm.
“Did you hear one word of what I said?”
I nodded, still trying to adjust to the fact that we were still alive. Everything felt surreal.
“Now focus.”
Dax pulled back the door and we filed out behind him onto the sidewalk like a line of ants hugging the wall. There was a low mist that hovered through the town like a ghost. It made the place seem even creepier. Z’s immediately noticed us and once again we found ourselves moving fast and shooting. Many of the shots didn’t hit them in the head. It was hard to hit accurately while running.
“Keep up,” Dax yelled.
We were a few feet from the entrance of the bank when I finally could see who the figure was in the window at the station. I squinted. By now the others had made it to the bank and Dax was already inside.
“Dad?”
I began changing direction and heading towards the police station. Specs spotted me.
“Dude, where are you going?”
“That’s my father.”
I fired round after round taking out Z’s, oblivious to the fact that every shot would only bring more of them. Dax came out. I only knew this because he shouted my name.
“Johnny. Get back here.”
The police station was surrounded by a high metal fence with barb wire at the top. I don’t know if they built it because they thought it looked cool, or whether it was some part of the mind tricks that they liked to use on anyone thinking of breaking the law. Within its fenced walls Z’s were roaming around the burnt-out cars like buzzards hovering around dead carcasses. I dropped down low behind a cruiser that had barely made it out the front entrance before it must have been stopped by a horde of Z’s. The windows were busted up. The door was wide open. Dried blood now streaked the doorframe. No one was inside. Only the faint crackle of the radio could be heard.
Dax and Specs sprinted over. The others stayed inside the bank.
“You better have a good reason for this.”
“It’s dad, look.”
Dax looked towards the open door before ducking back down.
“He’s secure. But we’re not.”
Dax’s eyes darted back and forth between the path that led back to the bank and a group of Z’s that were heading our way. They were the slow-moving suckers. Several were dragging their feet as if they had snapped at the ankles. Their moans were getting louder.
“I’m not leaving without him.”
“How the hell do you know he’s not one of them?”
“I don’t. But we need to at least try,” I replied.
He grabbed hold of my collar. “Listen, you asshole. You are going to get us all killed. Look at how many are in front of the station.”
I peered over. There had to have been at least twenty pressed up against the doors.
“Even
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