I’m running as fast as my legs can carry me. I’m not going to be fast enough. I don’t know how much longer I can run. There’s just one zombie left. He’s following close behind and running at breakneck speed. I can’t get away. The alleyway is long and I can’t dart around any corners or open any doors without slowing enough for it to catch me. I can feel myself getting slower while he only gets faster. I’m out of shells for my shotgun and my M9 pistol slipped out of my hand a while back and I don’t remember exactly when or where. I’ve got a grenade hooked onto my belt but I feel like I would either hold it too long and blow myself up or drop it too soon and waste a perfectly good tool. I look down and focus on not tripping. My head snaps up to find the business end of a 12 gauge pointed directly at my head. I panic and trip. About halfway through the fall I hear a loud bang and my ears start to ring, then I can’t hear anything as I hit the ground. I look up at the person holding the gun for a few seconds. It’s a girl about my age. She has black hair. She’s attractive and she has a slightly insane look in her intense, icy blue eyes. She’s wearing a black hoodie. There’s a revolver in the front left pocket of her pants, an M9 in right that I desperately want to take, and what looks like an M4 assault rifle slung over her right shoulder. She’s wearing a very worn dark green backpack.
She offers me her right hand and asks, “Are you alright?”
I don’t accept it and push myself off of the ground and shout, “What the hell is wrong with you, you crazy bitch!? You damn near killed me!”
“Look, I just saved your life, now you can either let me help you or go off and die on your own,” she says calmly, replacing the shell she just fired with a new one from her jacket pocket.
I sigh; the initial panic of the moment has subsided. “Sorry, you blew a birdshot through my skull. I’d like your help please.” I look around. We’re out in the street. There’s a hill to my left and dead end to my right. We’re surrounded by tall buildings.
“Alright then take these.” To my delight, she pulls the M9 from her pocket and hands it to me. She also gives me her shotgun. I’m not exactly sure what kind it is, but it’s nicer than mine and it’s pump action which is cool. Without a word, she takes off her backpack, sets it on the ground and pulls out 6 clips for the M9 and 24 shells for the shotgun. It’s more ammo than I know what to do with. I stare into the backpack for a long time. It’s the most ammunition I’d ever seen on one person. “Thank you so much. What’s your name?”
“Leyla,” she replies, “what’s yours?”
“Eric,” I say looking down at my new treasures with the biggest grin on my face I’d had in a long time. I slip 3 M9 clips into each of my front pockets and divide the shells evenly into the cargo pockets of my pants. “How’d you get all of this?”
“There’s a gun shop not too far from here. It’s actually a couple blocks back the way you came. There was no one in there so I grabbed everything I could fit in this backpack. What do you have on you?”
“Just this,” I say pointing at the grenade on my belt, “I’ve been saving it for when I really need it. I had an M9 but I dropped it.”
“Well then you’re lucky you met me. Nice to meet you. Get going.” And with that, she shoos me away. I’m a little hurt that she doesn’t want me around but I guess I’d do the same thing. She’s got a ton of ammo, but it wouldn’t last long between two people. She’s given me enough to survive for a while and I’m thankful.
“Nice to meet you too.” I try to sound like I wanted to be alone anyway but I don’t think I played it off very well. I turn and start up the hill. At the top of the hill there’s a long road to the right. Just before I go that way, I turn around. Leyla’s sitting at the bottom of the hill holding a sandwich and staring up at the clouds, her M4 resting at her side. I realize that I’m out of food. I keep walking. I check the M9 clips to make sure that they’re full. They are 15 shots in each. M9’s aren’t particularly powerful but this much ammo will keep me alive for now.
The sun’s getting low in the sky and I decide I should look for a place to sleep for the night. I figure that today has been great and decide to make it better. I walk into a nearby hotel. It’s not a great one, but it will have actual beds which is something I’ve deprived myself of for far too long. The door is slightly ajar and I look inside. It’s dark. Very dark. I make a huge mistake when I walk inside and turn on the light. The lobby is full of zombies that were asleep until I flipped the switch. They all stand and turn toward me slowly. Then, almost as if on cue, they all race toward me. I can’t count them, I don’t have time. All I see is a wall of rotting flesh barreling toward me. I lift my shotgun and fire randomly. There are only six shots in the gun and the few that I take out have little effect on the number of zombies are coming after me. I sprint out of the doors with speed I didn’t know I could muster. I fumble with my cargo pocket for more shells but in my terror, I can’t get the button undone. I run back toward Leyla, not thinking about the danger I’m about to put her in.
When I turn the corner, she’s still sitting on the ground with the backpack open next to her. She calls, “Eric, I said get out of here! What are you…” her voice trails off when she sees the mass of zombies trailing right behind me. She pulls out a glass bottle from her backpack. It’s got a towel sticking out of the end. I’m confused and I’m about to ask what she’s doing. Then it clicks when she pulls a lighter out of her pocket and lights the towel on fire. After the close call I had last time, I panic and I sprint as fast as I can. She tosses the bottle in the air and it lands right behind me and shatters, spraying fire in all directions. “RUN RIGHT!” she shouts as she picks up her M4. I follow her direction without hesitation. The zombies follow, and not only are they lined up; I’m no longer in the line of fire. She pulls the trigger. I can hear the shots ring out, echoing off of the walls of the buildings accompanied by the moans of dying zombies. Nothing has ever sounded so beautiful. When I hear the shots stop I look behind me. She’s made a point to kill the ones closest to me. This gives me an opportunity to undo my pocket and load 3 shots into my shotgun while I continue to half-run half-fall, arms flailing down the hill. I pull out the M9 and point it over my shoulder. I fire randomly hoping to hit something. Out of the fifteen shots I fire, I hear one connect, but no pained sound of death followed. I swear under my breath and drop the clip from my gun. When I reach Leyla and she’s reloaded her gun and uses this clip up too, killing the remaining zombies. But the sun is falling behind the horizon. It’s no longer visible, only the residual light. This means the rest will be coming very soon. We’ve got no kind of shelter set up. We’re out on the street with naught but a few guns and a backpack full of ammunition.
“I was saving this for myself, but I get the feeling you’re going to need it,” Leyla says and gives me 24 more shells along with 30 more shots for the M9 in my hand. “Sorry, I gave you all my clips. You’re going to have to load the bullets manually you have manually when they run out.” We sit and talk for a little while longer just passing the time. We sit like this talking about our pasts, fantasizing about what it’ll be like when all of this passes. We sit like this what felt like 15 minutes. We did everything we could to avoid talking about the massive number of zombies that are surely to come. Then sure enough, we hear movement. We both stand up, readying ourselves. Groans are coming from the buildings around us. The street lights spark into life giving the road an ominous orange glow. From all directions they come. Slowly at first, until they see us. We’re back to back she with her assault rifle and I with my shotgun. We can hear them coming from inside the buildings and from the alley I came tumbling out of earlier that day. One catches sight of us and lets loose a loud roar. I’m not sure quite where it’s coming from. Until I watch it smash through a third story window and land on the ground right in front of me. It lets out another roar. It seemed it was signaling others because more began coming out of buildings and from the alleyway all headed in our direction. I shoot it in the head and cut it short hoping it would have some effect on the number of zombies that would come. There was no way to tell, but if it had done anything, it was hardly noticeable. They were coming from everywhere. Suddenly, we’re completely surrounded. We call out various directions.
“On your right!” I’d shout.
She’d call back “Left, high!” we went on like this for a good 30 minutes until there were no shotgun shells left. It was up to her with her M4. We stay close to each other facing opposite directions. I do what I can with my M9 which isn’t much. I become virtually useless for anything other than calling out directions.
“I’m getting low on ammo!” Leyla yells when a horde at least twice the size of the one that was chasing me turns the corner and starts rushing down the hill.
“What do we do!?” I shout, panicking.
“Do you still have that grenade?”
“Yeah! It’s ri-
“Well!?” She asks, finally losing her cool as the mass of zombies gets closer and closer.
“Yeah I got it right here,” I tell her. I pull the pin, hug the grenade to my chest and run straight for the center of the horde.
“What the hell are you doing!?” she shrieks
I don’t respond. I’m saving her life. She can either accept my help or die on her own. I’m not giving her a choice.
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