L4D - Gunpowder Rush

Reports have indicated cannibalism-

-after being shot, they still manage to attack the man-

-having been quarantined, as the outbreak has gotten out of control-

-Help!-

-doing their best to find survivors-

-no hope-

-It can climb and-

-Get it off!

The man turned his radio dial, receiving similar broadcasts. It seemed that many survivors also got their hands on radios. Kyle smiled.

He was a police officer 5 years ago. He was now part of Mercy's SWAT unit.

Well, not now. Not anymore.

Ever since these zombies or whatever invaded, everything seemed to be thrown into chaos. The SWAT was sent in to control the infected crowds. They used the basics: Tear gas, bean bags. Nothing seemed to affect them.

Kyle was on the road with his teammates. Several men covered from the buildings. At the last moment, the captain had called out "Weapons Free."

Bullets whizzed through the air, smattering the zombies. Kyle pushed back the things with his riot shield and handgun. That was all he had left.

2 days later, the streets were emptied. Everyone had either taken shelter, got killed, or turned into one of them. Kyle stowed away in a convenient store bathroom. It seemed logical. The place was empty. He had food all shelved. His SWAT uniform hid him in the dark. His Sig Sauer was full, a couple of extra clips hung to his belt.

No problem right?

Kyle was too scared to even leave the bathroom. He had his tactical vest and head gear off, hanging on the jacket hook. He took "baths" by cleaning himself with the sink and paper towels. He just sat on the closed toilet, just thinking. His charcoal black hair was matted with sweat. His dark sleeveless undershirt raised and lowered with his breathing.

Could he be immune or could he turn into one with just a scratch? He turned to his radio again. That was the only way he could stay sane: talking with other survivors.

We need help!

Where the hell is the military?

All they do is hide and lock us in!

"Please shut up," said Kyle. "They need to cover the entire nation."

Who do you think you are? We're the ones fighting-

"Of course. A military man has absolutely no family to worry about. The President can cure everything. He just doesn't want to. He's a dick."

...

"The government was absolutely ready for this. They have warm blankets and hot cocoa. They don't want to share. They're jerks."

Can't they at least-

"At least what? Use their experimental jet packs and fly us all away? I mean, a single helicopter can lift millions of people. They don't take you because they hate you. Political pigs."

Kyle turned off his radio. He then went silent, thinking yet again. What can he do? He was a professional officer. The very best. He can run for miles. He had expert marksmanship. He knew CQC or close quarters combat.

His stomach growled. Kyle patted his abdomen. He had to move.

With all his gear on and riot shield forward, Kyle nudged the bathroom door open. Nothing welcomed him on the other side. He holstered his gun and put his shield on the counter. Night enveloped the city. It was dark everywhere save for some lampposts and exit signs.

The officer fumbled through the snack section. He found some energy bars and stuffed them into his vest pouches. He quickly snarfed down some jerky and downed a bottle of water. He grew a distaste for liquor. Bitter crap. That was high school stuff. That's why he didn't care when he made several Molotov cocktails with them.

He grabbed a few lighters and put them in the pouches as well. He took a flashlight and strapped it to his belt, saving him room in his hands for his gun and shield. He hung three molotovs to his belt as well, separating them from each other to avoid their loud clunking.

Finally, Kyle checked his combat knife in a special sheath over his heart. It was issued to crack open boxes and cut rope. He was sure it would come in handy for skulls and throats.

Kyle had taken out the ceramic plates in his vests and pants. If he wasn't immune, he wanted speed over protection. The plates totaled 50 kilograms, the norm for SWAT. He saved the ones on his back. With a shield in front, he needed something for the rear.

He saw the cash register. How loud was that anti-thief alarm?

Loud enough.

The zombie horde came in a huge mass. Kyle began to regret his decision. Should he have left all the zombies in their random spots or was his way of organizing all of them together actually smart? Whatever, he already funneled a lot of them into the store. He previously poured all the alcohol all over the floor. Hopefully, his superiors were correct on the fire-proof fabric of his uniform.

Everything lit up at once as he threw the lighter on tiled floor. He made a small path without alcohol so he could avoid as much fire as possible. He pushed through, knocking any nearby zombie to the floor with his shield. As they tripped over each other, they falling to the floor, officially dead.

The SWAT member walked through the broken glass of the windows, his boots simply skimming the shards. There were only a few more zombies outside the inferno he left behind.

One, a woman, was next to a brick wall. Kyle rammed into her, pinning her to the said wall. Her arms were stuck behind the shield, letting Kyle freely stab her head without harm. Another ran from behind him. The officer stopped the man with the shield, sending him to the floor. He sheathed his knife, took out his handgun, and shot the third zombie in the head as it tried to attack his unprotected side. He then aimed at the one getting off the floor, killing it with a headshot.

Silence, aside from the crackling of the flames, took over the night. Now what?

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Here we go, making another story! Completely ignoring my unfinished ones! Yes!

Anyways, I'm also making another fanfiction of Resident Evil. If anyone can help me edit/improve the docs, I'd appreciate it. As a bonus for helping me, I'll type out a request fanfic. Heck, I'll even make a sequel to Witch Hunt :P Just email me (On my Profile).