My heart raced and my feet pounded as I stumbled through a dimly-lit hallway. My only light source came from the cracks and holes in the sheet rock. It would have been an awesome photo but unfortunately I don't think my pursuers cared much for art and probably wouldn't have been generous enough as to take a few minutes out of trying to eat me to let me take a few pictures. No, they definitely wouldn't and I would need all the time I could get to first find the others and then get the H-E-double hockey sticks out of there.
Unfortunately, I had lost the others back in the chaos. I could only hope that they had made it out unbitten. One bite, just one and you were better off with a bullet to the head. I glanced back just in time. A zombie was quickly advancing towards me. I blame George A. Romero for instilling in my head the notion that zombies were crippled in many ways, including speed. Not only are the undead freaks speedy little buggers, but they are inhumanly strong to the point where if you don't have the proper artillery, say goodbye to your internal organs. I lifted the AK-47 and focused on the rapidly progressing zombie. Pulling the trigger, I braced myself for the recoil, but all I got was a blank. I pulled the trigger again, but the thing was still gaining. I looked at the gnarled, sprinting (albeit a little drunkenly) corpse for the first time with fearful eyes.
I grabbed the machete out of my belt and got in my last-stand-fighting-position. Before I had a chance to lash out, a shot reverberated through the air and the thing fell a foot in front of me. I looked down at the finally lifeless corpse, its face frozen in shock. It's funny to think these things actually have emotions when like I said, they were inhuman. I turned around in search of my savior and am ashamed to say a sob of relief escaped before I could filter it out. "Blake!" I cried, dropping the machete and throwing myself on him. He dropped his gun in my haste, and wrapped his arms protectively around me.
"Where's everyone else?" I asked hopefully. He took a breath to answer but before he could, a loud Boom resonated through the walls. I laughed, giddy with relief. "No need to answer that." I said. Wherever there's an explosion, there's my little brother, Daniel. He's an absolute genius with a slight fetish for blowing things up, which necessarily isn't always a good thing. Today, however I couldn't have been happier that my 12 year old brother was a freaky arsonist mastermind.
"Let's go!" I exclaimed, cheerfully.
We picked up our weapons and headed towards the explosion. Thankfully, we didn't come into contact with many zombies and the ones that we did run into were dead before they even saw us coming. Man, we were on a roll. Finally we ran out of the makeshift exit and climbed into the big SUV we had jacked from a car dealership. Hey, it's not stealing if there's not even law enforcement to make sure we're abiding. Plus, it was the only vehicle that could accommodate 6 kids and then some. After a quick head-count that confirmed no one had developed a craving for brains, I put the car into drive and off we went.
I glanced back and was satisfied with what I saw. Sure the building was a little bit more damaged than when we first got there but no more zombies inhabited it. And that's what we had set out to do in the first place. We were the world's last hope until the scientists came up with a cure, if they were even still alive. So while others hide out, rationing food like the cowards they are, we're taking a stand. We're the exterminators to this zombie infestation, and pretty soon we won't have to live in fear anymore. This is a war, whether the other's know it or not, and I'll be damned if I let them win.