1 – Assault in the Alleyway
"There's a Hunter spookin' around out there." whispered the old man cautiously, as he wiped away the sweat that trickled down from his brow, then quickly grasped his rifle again, readying it for a potential onslaught. He listened intently to the dead quiet of night, for the telltale growl which would tell him which direction the Hunter would strike from.
"Come on out, wussy!" yelled the taller man, who stood less than a yard away. He cocked his shotgun upwards, scanning the rooftops for the sneaky Hunter. He hated alleyways; but they were rarely swarming with clumps of the infected, so he didn't mind. His scan was interrupted by a sharp shove to the shoulder which knocked him forward into Bill, the old man. He turned to see his attacker, a pretty girl in a red track jacket. She faced him with annoyance in her eyes, and an overwhelming sense of anger. She pulled back a lock of brown hair from her face in an exasperated way, revealing another bruise that tainted her pretty visage.
"Do you want more Zombies to come after us, Francis?" she questioned irritably, "We are running low on ammo as it is!"
"They are Vampires, Zoey." Francis replied blatantly. Zoey opened her mouth to protest, and to say something witty about Francis' incompetent Horror movie knowledge, but was stopped in her tracks by Bill's weary intervention.
"Don't be an ass Fran-…" Started Bill, but he was cut off sharply by a deafening shriek and a dark form that collided abruptly with him. Bill was thrown to the floor and the dark form landed on top of him expertly. Francis, who had been standing closest to Bill, stumbled backwards due to the impact, dropping his shotgun and causing Zoey to go sprawling to the floor as they collided. By this time, the Hunter had pinned Bill to the floor, and had begun its unrelenting attack on the old man, clawing away at his arms and face. Bill screamed as he desperately fought the agile zombie's darting claws.
Louis had been hanging back when Bill had noticed the Hunter's approach. He was still reeling from the last time they had been mobbed down by the "ordinary" infected, and was still licking his wounds, so to speak. He had been having trouble keeping up with the others for at least 10 minutes. He was ready to ask for a breather, when Francis and Zoey had started to argue. This also meant, that when the Hunter struck, he was still standing, and was unaffected by the domino effect that had taken place. This meant that, for once, he could save the day.
He yelled "Hunter!" at the top of his lungs, and then aimed his Submachine gun at the huddled mass on the floor that resembled Bill and the Hunter. He sprinted towards them, and emptied the remaining 12 bullets left in his gun into the Hunter. Then, when he reached them, he planned to kick the aggressor off his fallen comrade and proceed to beat it to death. Before he reached his target however, he felt a thick, wet cord wrap around his upper body. It caught at his throat and started to drag him backwards rapidly.
The sound of Zoey shouting "Smoker" was dominated by the violent hacking and coughing sounds produced by the Smoker that had wrapped its abnormally long tongue around Louis. He felt his red tie pulling backwards to choke him, and the buttons on his shirt strained and pulled over his chest. The tongue constricted as Louis was dragged up the side of the building on which the Smoker had his vantage point, until his office wear shoes dangled a couple of feet off the ground. His breathing became laborious as the tongue crushed his ribs into his lungs, threatening to snap them. His vision blurred as the tongue tightened around his neck, and then everything went black.
Francis leapt to his feet and landed a heavy punch on the side of the Hunter's head, forcing him to release his grip on Bill. He wasted a valuable second frantically grasping for his secondary pistol, but it caught in its holster, and the Hunter regained its menacing posture and pounced. After a terrifying few seconds, the Hunter was upon him. The jolting force knocked him off his feet, and his head smashed into the cold concrete. Then before he had a chance to open his eyes, there was a loud bang and he felt the weight of the Hunter fly off him. He opened one eye, and peered cautiously to see Zoey standing over him with the shotgun that he had dropped earlier in the commotion. He made an effort to compliment her skill, but she was gone, blabbering on about Louis and a Smoker. It took Francis a whole 12 seconds to calculate what Zoey had said as he battled with the pain that radiated from the back of his head. Then he snapped his eyes open and sat upright quickly. There was a loud bang, followed by a wheezing cough, another bang, and then a sickening pop. Smoke filled the alley, followed by silence. Then more human coughing ensued.
Francis clambered to his feet, and desperately tried to see in front of him. He called out but didn't have enough breath in his lungs. It had all happened so fast, first the Hunter, and then Louis got taken by the smoker, then… A sudden thought dawned on him. Bill. The hunter had clawed at him for at least 20 seconds. As the smoke lingered, Francis dropped to his knees by the side of an injured Bill, both still fighting fits of coughing and suffocating in the smog that had left the pores of the deceased Smoker zombie. He used his hand to waft away the smoke from in front of Bill's face, and quickly made a rough examination of Bill's physical status. Although they had their ups and downs, Francis genuinely liked the old man, and though he didn't like to admit it, he saw him as a father figure. Francis whipped the health kit off his back and ripped the bag open manically. Bill sported multiple scathes on his face and there was a large gash on his forearm that proceeded to bleed profusely.
"Francis? Bill?" Called out Zoey from the other end of the alley, "Louis is pretty messed up!" Her silhouette became more obvious through the haze as it cleared. There was worry etched in her voice, as she called out once more into the dark. She glanced back down to see that Louis had not opened his eyes yet. She had to do something about it. She knelt down by his limp form and made sure that there were no more thick cords of wet tongue constricting him. She pulled a lengthy strip of tongue from his neck and checked his breathing. Nothing. He wasn't breathing.
Zoey called out once more, this time in panic rather than mild worry. When no reply came, she placed her hands on Louis' chest and started to perform compressions. She had no idea what she was doing, and the only experience she had with resuscitation was watching CPR on horror films. A feeling of hopelessness crept up on her as she realised how unrealistic many Horror films were. Although they had been right about the whole zombie survival thing, things definitely didn't go according to stereotypical plans. If she was in a film, Louis would wake up miraculously after a moment of heart wrenching tears and the young couple would kiss tenderly, then they would be joined by Bill and Francis who would smile gleefully. But this wasn't a film. She put her mouth to Louis' mouth, and blew air into his lungs, feeling no attraction or lust for the man dying in her arms, only a deep friendly concern.
Then there was a resistance, and Louis, reached up and grabbed Zoey's hand, ripping it away from his chest. He pushed her face off his and drew his pistol from its holster, pointing it at Zoey's head. There was a second of eerie silence, and Louis lowered his gun. Zoey nodded, and then took his hand to help him to his feet. There was no room for love, or attraction in this nightmare ridden world, only room for survival. And you needed friends to survive, as the four had found out.
Meanwhile, Francis raised Bill's torn arm in the air so he could wrap the gauze around it. He had swabbed the wound with antiseptic and Bill had simply whimpered and mumbled on about the wars and goddamn Hunter bastards. He had carried out the painful process of suturing the old man's wound closed, and Bill had confusedly asked him what had happened, and asked him who the hell he was. Francis just chuckled nervously as he miserably applied more gauze to Bills forearm. He had become an expert at using health kits since the Zombie apocalypse hit, so he wasn't doing a bad job. He was however, horribly conscious of the fact that this was their last health kit. If they didn't find another safe room with health kits soon, then they would struggle to make it out of this goddamn city.
As Francis finished the job he helped Bill off the floor, and out of the old man's freshly accumulated puddle of blood, that had gathered grotesquely, and steadied him against a wall. He shook his head to try and get rid of the thumping and pounding of pain that kept flowing from the bruise that was probably forming on the back of his head. Once Bill was standing without additional support, and breathing deeply and calmly, Francis relaxed as best he could. He still missed the weight of his shotgun and found himself wondering where it had disappeared to. As he picked his secondary pistol up off the floor, and readied in case they were surprised by another special infected, or another Horde of Zombies, he remembered suddenly that Zoey had taken his shotgun in the heat of the moment, so to speak. Memories flooded back, overwhelming the pain emanating from his head. He remembered Zoey shouting something about Louis getting nabbed by a Smoker, and the sickening pop, that had been followed by the billowing smoke. Then he realised that the noise that his pain had forced him to ignore earlier, had been Zoey calling for help. Francis panicked.
By the time Louis was on his feet and had his Submachine gun reloaded, the smoke had officially cleared. He rubbed his sore neck and took a deep breath to expand his aching lungs and chest. He could see Francis and Bill standing on the other side of the alley, next to the wall. Bill was slouched, but Francis was alert and looking directly at them. Louis saw the relief in his face that they were ok. Well, that they weren't dead at least. Francis took four long strides to reach them, and his smile changed to a scowl as he accepted his shotgun back off Zoey.
"Why'd you have to let that goddamned Smoker grab you Louis?" questioned Francis aggressively. His face had turned red, and flecks of spit had dribbled down his chin. He was very angry, mainly at himself. Louis lowered his gun and pondered whether or not it was worth the hassle to retaliate. Zoey ignored the arguing men and let her mind float across more important things. She could see that Bill was on his feet and alive, so she felt safe, but she also somewhat vulnerable now that she had given Francis his shotgun back and lost her only weapon of defence. She gave Bill a caring look as he caught her eye and she smiled when she saw that he held the dual pistols that she had dropped earlier in his hands.
"How ya' doing kid?" asked Bill in a fatherly tone. Zoey took the guns off him and holstered them. They smiled at each other for a brief moment and then she flung her arms around his neck to hug him. At first he was shocked, but then responded to the embrace, by patting her back gently. Zoey let go of him awkwardly and smiled cheerily. Her smile quickly faded when she noticed the congealing pool of blood that now resided in the spot where Bill had lay minutes before. She winced and opened her mouth to make a comment, but bit her tongue. Noticing her reaction Bill looked at the blood, then back at Zoey.
"Most a' that blood aint mine." He replied grimly. He reloaded his Assault rifle at expert speed, but his facial expression reflected the torture that his mind had gone through, not only in this apocalypse, but in the wars too. He had had a lot of practise, reorganising his mind after something horrifying or deadly had happened, but nothing ever went away. He would forever see that Hunter's eyes underneath its shadowy hood. He would forever remember the pure rage and malice that resided in those lifeless milky white sockets. But he regained his composure, mentally and physically. He would survive. His arm ached terribly when he moved it, and his face stung every time the breeze wafting through the alleys picked up. But he would be fine. He would survive. Or die trying.