Resident Evil: Dark Survival
Chapter One
The back streets of Raccoon City were as lonely as they always were but it was the only route he could take home from the party he was just at. Leafs and a couple of littered paper flew about in the wind. The cool air blew into his face, sending a chill up and down his spine. It wasn't out of fear or anything like that, more out of the easy pleasure that the average wind could give after a hot summer.
The teenager turned left into an alleyway that he saw lead into another street just down between the buildings. He had a good idea what street it was but he knew he still had to hurry up; he had to be home at ten o'clock or else his parents would be home and he would be grounded for a very long time for sneaking out of the house to go to a friend's party.
It was ten minutes to nine when he reached the end of the alleyway between the buildings and he was right about knowing what street came up next. Main Street; the longest and widest road there was in Raccoon City. On the sides of the street were a large number of various stories for clothing, food, books and the lot where he hung around with his friends a lot.
He put his hands into his pocket and shrugged up his shoulders to try and keep his heat in since it was getting too cold for his liking.
The young adult thought that his athletic fleece pullover that he got from his rugby team would work but apparently, it wouldn't keep him warm for that long. It was only supposed to be worn on the side lines when you were taken off or had an injury. Though it didn't keep him warm for very long, it was still very comfortable to wear and it had the Raccoon City Rugby Team symbol patched onto the left sleeve. Just underneath the patch of the fierce looking Raccoon animal, was the insignia of a left angel wing, which symbolized that the teenager was positioned as a Winger for the team.
That's when the thought hit him fast.
"Where the fuck is everyone?"
The streets of the city was usually alive, filled with prostitutes looking for some stranger love, drunk citizens stumbling about or just the regular working person walking home from his or her work. But not this time; Main Street was empty, just as much as the back streets he first went though. Feeling another chill run down his spine, he fixed his black ball cap and continued to walk in the direction of his home.
He still can't find the reason why there was absolutely no one around.
This thought only worried him.
He walked along still and decided to take his hands out of his pocket, which knocked his wallet out of its haven. It hit the cement sidewalk right beside a parked car and a newspaper bending machine and opened up.
The teenager stared at it for a while and then knelt down to pick it up. He looked at his school card behind a clear plastic holder, with his name 'Martin Masongsong' printed in small black letters just underneath the small picture.
Standing up, Martin stuffed the item back into his pocket and looked at the parked car in front of him. It was a blue and white Dodge Viper sports car, one of Martin's favorite cars but what really caught his eyes was the crimson liquid-looking hand print across the passenger side window.
In reaction, Martin's heart skipped a beat and he jumped back, cursing at what he saw. He moved closer to the hand print on the car, which looked to be on the outside of the window. Putting his nose near it to take a whiff and his suspicions were right, the liquid was the smell of blood.
"Holy shit," was the only words to come out of his mouth before he grabbed his cell phone.
He dialed '911' and the operator answered him in less than four rings, "Hello, Raccoon City Emergency Services, how may I help you?"
"Hey, I found a bloody hand print on a parked car south of Main Street."
"Can you explain what the vehicle is?"
"A blue and white Dodge Viper."
She sighed, "That's the eighteenth one today. Alright, I'll send a patrol car. I suggest you go home. Take care."
"Thank you," he said and hung up his cell phone. He wondered what she meant by 'eighteenth one'. It was obvious that there was something wrong happening in the city and so Martin decided to run it home. He started in a light jog but then hurried up into a fast sprint, glad that rugby practice helped him out in running.
The cool breeze he once liked became a freezing barrier that made him take short breaths.
He turned a corner to his right and ran straight into a trio of waddling people.
"Excuse me," Martin said, trying to make his way past them, but they all look intently at him. He was confused, wondering why these people were staring at him and not saying a word. He couldn't see their faces either, the moon light was behind them and the there were no working lamp posts to where Martin was.
One of them reached out at him and he backed away while the other two flanked him on both sides. The first one moaned loudly as he came into some light provided by a lighted 'closed' sign on one of the locked up clothing stores. The teenager was revolted from what he saw.
The man's face wasn't really a face anymore. The appearance was totally devastate, large portions of his skin was missing and would show parts of his reddish flesh across his left cheek and around is left eye. There was also a large chunk of meat missing from the man's neck as well as human bite marks on his hands.
"Are you okay?" He asked him, feeling his heart pounding at the walls of his chest that sounded like a constant light smacking of fingers against a wall.
The man swung a slow punch at Martin while one of the other ones grabbed the sleeve of his pullover but he managed rip his arm away from the man who grabbed him.
In fear, the teenager pulled a one-eighty degree turn and darted away from the scene. He looked back and saw that the men were in full pursuit but in a slow, taking-his-time fashion.
Relieved that he got away, Martin slowed his pace while taking deep breathes, trying to catch his thoughts.
Everything in his head was racing around, trying to find the source of the problem. So many questions were being asked but mostly, it was, 'What the hell was going on?' and so, the young student of Raccoon High School again took off in the direction of his house.
He noted that he was close to home, seeing the street oak tree that he would always see on his way home from school. He was only a block away and he knew he could make it. He knew he had to, otherwise his parents would kill him for being out so late, not watching the house like and for being out when all these weird and unpleasant things are happening in his own city.
Martin started to have doubts about going to that party. He should have never gone. Now all these issues started to pound at his head just like his beating heart.
He thought about his friends being in danger, his family might not be home and could be out there still trying to get back to the house and he wouldn't be there which would put worry to his parents. Stupid, he thought, just plain fucking stupid.
He reached his house on Elms Street just two blocks from the main road as he ran up the stairs. He ran so fast that he actually bumped into the door while he was fumbling around for his house keys. Martin pulled out his amount of keys, one for his bike, one for his house and one for his rugby duffle bag lock and calmly slipped the house key into the lock.
Twisting it clockwise, he heard the click of his door being unlocked and quickly rushed inside, smelling the regular mint scent that was given off by the lit candles in his house.
He closed the door as fast as he could and kicked off both his black skate shoes and looked around. His house was larger than his old home, open and seemed peaceful all the time. The floors were made with white marble flooring with metallic crack fillings painted gold to give the place a rich look. On the light blue walls had a small group of family pictures that had his most of his uncles, aunts, cousins, second cousins and such all put into one frame.
To the left of the welcoming hallway, was the living room with leather couches surrounding a small wooden coffee table that his mother always nagged at him to keep cups off the delicate material; which he found pretty funny at times.
On the far wall of the living room were a large portrait of the whole Masongsong family with his father, his mother, his older brother and sister and the mix of uncles and aunts.
Martin was in the middle of the large family and he remembered that that picture was taken when he was six years old and so, he looked too humorous to look at.
He was now a grown up teenager with his athletic build. He was five foot six, a year away from graduating high school with a chance to get into the National Guard because of his leadership qualities and ability to take control of a situation.
He had short black hair that was always covered by his black ball cap and most of the time he wore his rugby pullover. It was said by his friends that he could be picked out of a crowd of so many people.
With no more time to study his surroundings, Martin job to the second floor of his house and ran into his parents' room. His parents' room was large too with a king sized double bed right in front of the television with more pictures of his family on the wall.
He flicked on the switch to his left and the room was emitted with a bright yellowish lighting.
He quickly went on all fours and crawled to underneath the bed where his father's side of the bed was and put his right hand underneath the bed, searching around for the metallic case that his father would put one of his firearms into.
He found it after blindly hunting with his hand for the past thirty seconds and pulled it out from its dim haven.
Martin then placed the case onto the bed, walked over to the television set and grabbed the case locking keys from behind the T.V.
His father told him about the whereabouts of the keys incases of an emergency and so, since this was considered an emergency, or what Martin thought, he decided to defend himself and his home. Walking back to the case on the bed, he put the key into the first lock and turned it half way to the right. Just as he did that, one lock unlatched itself.
Smiling to himself, he pulled the key back out and set it onto the second lock before he heard a loud bang coming from the front door to his house.
Cursing out loud, he heard the same moans and groans made from the men he first encountered. Had they followed him home? He wasn't sure. He unlocked the second lock and swiftly pulled the case open, seeing the black finished and plastic Glock Model 17 nine-millimeter handgun set inside with two spare magazines and enough spare bullets. The
Martin pulled it out the hefty handgun and first expelled the handgun's ammunition magazine using the thumb release button and it dropped onto his free hand. He looked at the top of the magazine where the bullets were normally loaded into the clip from and found that it was loaded with a bullet already. Judging by the added weight to the metallic magazine, Martin knew it was fully loaded. Ten rounds in all.
Originally, the Glock's magazines were made with a seventeen round magazine for nine-millimeter rounds but since the firearm laws changed, all semi-automatic pistols were to be cut down to ten rounds per magazine and the regular capacity for law enforcement and military.
After, he pulled back on the slide, opening the right side ejection port. Remembering what his father taught him, he looked inside the ejection port through the barrel and pointed it towards the light of the room which created a small beam to pass through the chamber. That meant there weren't any rounds inside the handgun.
He slapped the magazine back in and heard the glass at his front door break down so he took three quick steps to the wooden door of his parents' room and closed them, pressing the locking button.
Martin then stepped away from the door and pressed the slide reset button located on the left side of the pistol. He then backed up to where the handgun case was and aimed his handgun at the door.
Just then, there was a loud bash on the door that shook the entry,
He quickly identified himself, "I am an armed citizen. Leave this house immediately!"
But the bangs kept coming, shaking the entrance to the room even harder this time. It was a couple of seconds before the wooden door gave way. Three men, looking almost exactly like Martin's first attackers except dressed differently, charged in, the trio moaning loudly as they advanced towards him.
The leading man looked middle aged, had a black business suit on with a white dress shirt underneath with a dark red tie flapping about. His face was missing an eye and a nose, along with two teeth. The second one seemed younger than the first, wearing a red ball cap backwards with a black T-shirt and dark green shorts. His face was pale but had no injuries except for the large bite mark on his neck. Then the third man came in more slowly than the first two. He was casually dressed, white T-shirt, blue jeans and black hiking boots but had blood smeared everywhere on him. He looked like he fell into a pile of recent dead bodies.
Martin aimed his father's handgun and since he knew it was loaded with jacketed rounds, he knew that they'd go through anything soft. He fired one round, then two and then popped as many rounds off as he could. The bullets found their mark on the chest of the man but he didn't stumble or fall over. He kept coming at the teen. The armed teenager rolled back onto the bed that he was at and fired a round at the lead's head by instinct, the loud pop of the gun shot echoed throughout the large room.
The bullet flew from the handgun and sped towards the attacker's head, punching through the center of his forehead and exploding out of the back.
Martin stared at the man who quickly fell to the floor of his parents' room, blood and brain matter sprayed all over his comrades and the far wall. The teenager kept his handgun pointed at the men and they stared at the dead man before the one with a missing eye and nose looked at the teenager and moaned out with an irritated tone.
The teenager's body twitched when that happened and the teenager pulled the trigger again, taking out the second zombie. The third jumped at him but Martin moved out of the way just in time when the man landed on his feet on top of the bed, stumbled a bit and then fell to his right side.
There was something wrong with these people.
Martin kept his aim on the third man and shouted at him to stop but the man didn't listen and took a swipe at Martin, in a way like he was a injured and bounded up ape swiping at its attackers. The man then rolled off the bed, leaving smeared marks of dark red liquid that instantly absorbed into the sheets when the man fell on it. My parents are gonna be pissed.
When the man eventually stood on both his feet, Martin calmly aimed and fired the handgun at the man's left knee at point blank range, the round tore through the knee bone and ripped out the back, struck into the floor of the room and went straight through with remnants of blood and bone fragments splattering across the base.
The man moaned, dropped onto his injured knee and grabbed Martin with his both hands and pulled the stunned teen's arm towards his mouth, his hands were slick with blood and they felt cold, very cold.
His mouth was wide open when Martin pulled the trigger.
There was nothing but a metallic click. Astonish with the results of this unfortunate situation, Martin instinctively kicked at the man's throat and the stranger lost his grip on the teen's arm.
"Were you trying to bite me?"
The man only answered with a lunge. The young adult quickly backed away, looked at his semi-automatic and noticed that the slide was locked back. He then went towards the open case where the two extra magazines and bullets lay and he grabbed one of the fresh ones, again rolled onto the bed and slapped it in.
Martin watched as the man attempted to stand on his shot out knee but at every attempt, the knee buckled and he collapsed back onto the floor. That's when he took his chance. He trained the gun onto the person; slowly depressed the trigger back and the gun went off, the recoil slightly pushing upwards.
The bullet cut through the air and blew its way through the man's right temple while he was trying to get up.
The bullet passed through his head, rocketed out the other side and shattered the television in the projectile's path.
"Holy shit…" Martin gasped out as he stood up from the bed.
Knowing how much shit he got into, the teenager still ran for the phone and again dialed the emergency line. This time, it came back with nothing. No reception.
He tried again, slamming the phone back onto the receiver and picked it up again but it came back with the same silence from the phone's speaker.
What was going on? All he had knowledge on was the fact that the people of the city he has lived in his whole life has somehow been fucked up and he shot three people. He knew what he had to do.
Running over the dead bodies, he ran into the washroom just across his parents' room, turned the lights on to illuminate the dark bathroom and he ran for the toilet. As expected, the teenager hurled himself to the seat and threw his guts out, the fresh smell of mucus and his the slightly digested pizza he ate from the party combined with the propellant from his recently fired handgun filled his nose.
After heaving the last few times, he sat up and grabbed the toilet paper from the wooden rolling rack next to him. He wiped his mouth and his lips before he threw that into the lavatory and pressed the flush handle.
It wasn't long before Martin acquired his handgun and went back to the parents' room. He stepped over the bodies, grabbed the empty magazine and the gun case. Without any hesitation, the teenager then ran his own room after closing his parents' room door and dumped the two boxes of fresh ammunition and that one extra clip onto his bed.
He groped for the lamp switch on his room and lit up the small square room filled with rock and urban climbing posters and firearms along with two maxim girl posters on behind his door.
Right away, the teenager pulled the bullets out of their hold in the box and pumped round after round into the spent magazine. He counted each one and when he was done, the teenager expelled the already loaded magazine from the handgun and put two rounds back into it, making it a full ten clip again.
He pushed home into the handgun's grip and stuffed it into his rear jean pocket. He remembered that keeping a bullet chambered with a full magazine in the housing meant that he had one extra round, so at this point; he had eleven rounds to shoot off. Taking the extra three fully loaded magazines, he stuffed them into his left pocket and then took the couple of ammunition boxes and placed them into a sports backpack that was already lying beside him.
Quickly dashing down the stairs and into his already lit kitchen room of the first floor of his large house and opened the near by cupboard that housed canned food and bottled water.
The kitchen was connected to the family room where the large T.V was and he had the tendency to go sit in front of the T.V while eating, which pissed his mother off.
Thinking nothing more of it, Martin grabbed the cans that looked okay and stuffed them in, along with the water bottles. After, he zipped up the heavy backpack and boosted it onto his back and then clipped on the support straps down by his waist.
Right away, he pulled his handgun out of his back jean pocket and turned around quickly. He took two steps out of the kitchen when another man, covered in blood broke through the window, his business suit torn from recent scuffles.
Martin didn't want to waste time on one man so he ran to the hallway of his house, stepping on broken glass that came from the window that the first three men broke and stopped at the door.
Quickly unlocking the door, he looked back at the open inside of his house. He had so many fond memories here that he will miss.
Without anymore hesitation, the teenager whipped the door open and ran outside, the familiar cold air wrapped around him like a blanket.
He stepped down the stairs, looked around and this time, the streets weren't so lonely or quiet.
Residential houses were either being broken into by people or were burning, regular citizens unlike the ones that Martin has encountered, were running for their lives, chased by running men and women with their faces covered in blood, patches of flesh missing.
Martin waited for around three seconds before he stepped out onto the sidewalk of the street in front of his house.
That's when he saw it, a girl around his age running for her life and was coming towards him. He didn't recognize her at all but he saw her perfect features from the yellowish light produced from a near by burning house; dark red hair tied back in a pony tail that flowed as she ran. She wore a blue spaghetti strap tank top and black short skirt that stopped mid thigh and her sexy legs were the next to catch his eyes. She had a great body also, slender but also fit.
She was yelling for help as two men were right behind her, one holding a baseball bat in his bloody hand, while his comrade didn't have any arms at all.
They seemed to be torn off.
Desperate to save this female teenager, Martin waved his hands at her and she did notice him. It finally came to Martin that she was yelling for him to help her.
"Please help!" He saw that she was near tears.
Martin raised his firearm and pointed it past her but she stopped in her tracks, horror in her eyes. He thought that she was thinking that he was going to kill her so Martin shouted back,
"Get down!"
The girl did so and she dropped quickly; it almost seemed like she dove. Martin squeezed slowly on the trigger of his handgun and a round fired off; the bullet flew through the air and smashed into the lead man's shoulder but he still kept coming. He fired again and again, this time both bullets found their marks at the foreheads of both men.
With the temporary threat now eliminated but the violence going on in the town, he knew that he had to get out of this place with her. He ran up to her and knelt down next to her, who looked up at him, panting and tears in her eyes.
"Are you okay," Martin asked his eyes filled with concern for this gorgeous young lady.
She nodded, swallowed and sat on her bottom, "Yeah, thank you so much."
"Anytime, listen, we have to get out of here, okay? You gonna follow me?"
Again the girl nodded, "Of course."
Martin helped her get to her feet while brushing her off and not a moment later, the two took off running. In quick pursuit, four people targeted the two teenagers just a couple of meters away from them.
They all moaned, groaned and screeched for them, their hands wailing about like a tiger swiping his claw at a helpless animal. It was obvious to both teens that they wanted to kill.
"Uhh, whatever your name is, they're coming closer!"
Martin turned around, running backwards and popped more rounds off at his four enemies. Since he was only snap shooting, the teenager's bullets went all over the place, some hitting the cement road by their feet, a number of bullets hit a near by lamp post while only two hit the intended targets, one punched into the forearm of the lead woman while the man behind the woman had his knee shattered by one of Martin's rounds.
That one man collapsed from his buckling knee and tumbled around on the road, tripping two of his comrades in the process.
"Keep going!"
Martin stopped running backwards and trained his firearm onto the woman's head. Soon after that, he depressed the trigger and sent it to strike just above her left eye. The woman let out a screech, her head snapping back from the effect of the nine-millimeter and exploded out the back, splashing blood everywhere.
He turned back around and sped up, catching up with her as she signaled to turn right. He did so, following her closely as she ran into a small gap between two untouched looking houses, comparable to Martin's. In the gap between the houses, there was also a small bush that they could hide behind.
"I need a breather. I've been running for about twenty minutes."
Martin nodded and shuffled closely to the corner of one house, peeking around it, "What happened?"
She shook her head, "I have no clue. What's your name?"
"Martin Masongsong, how about you?"
The girl took a deep breath, "I'm Livia Simmons. I owe you from saving me back there."
Martin smiled at her, "It's no big."
Livia smiled back gently, "Well, if you say so."
He looked back around the corner, "I seriously want to know what the fuck is going on."
"You got me buddy. I was about to go to sleep when my lil' brother came in with a knife and tried to attack me."
"I actually met these guys when I was heading home from a party. Then more of them broke into my house and I had to shoot them all…" He trailed off, "It's not a pretty thing to do."
"I don't blame you, Martin. I...well, as long as we don't go insane, we'll be fine, right?"
Martin turned around and smiled at her, "Of course."
"I'm glad then," She moved next to him, "We better move soon."
"Agreed, but I need to rest myself."
She giggled, "Alright then."
For ten minutes, the two sat between the two houses, keeping their heads down whenever more of those insane people ran by.
Martin was thinking about his friends and his family, thinking about the horrible things that could have happened to them while he was running in the streets.
She said something that Martin didn't hear and when he responded, she smiled at him tiredly, "I said I need my MP3 with me."
"Where's your house?"
"One of the burning ones," she responded, closing her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
She put a hand on his shoulder, "No, no…It's completely alright."
Martin stood up, "We should get going now."
He looked down at his gun, seeing it was spent and then reloaded it before they started walking away.
-----------------------------
The two companions walked about the winding empty back streets, making sure that around every corner, there wasn't a crazed person.
Martin glanced back at his accompanying person; she was getting cold and it was understandable. Her hands were rubbing her shoulders, her eyes looking at the ground and she seemed to try and walk as close to him as possible.
"You alright Livia," He asked her
She looked up at him, "Yep, just cold."
Martin nodded and stopped. He slipped his handgun into his back jeans pocket, pulled off his backpack and then unzipped his snowboarding parka. He grinned at her and all she did was look back with confusion.
"Take this." Martin said as he put it around her upper torso.
She smiled as gently as she could at him and nodded, "Thank you."
"Like I said, anytime," He twirled his handgun with his trigger finger and then quickly holstered it. He then grabbed his pack and slipped it over himself.
"So soldier-boy," She joked, "What are we going to do?"
Martin sighed, "First, we're going to the Police station just a few blocks away from here."
Livia moved closer to him, "Why? So we can get some guns?"
"That and to see if there are any survivors or something." He stopped by a small alley way and whipped his gun around the corner to see if there were any of these people there, "We'll get some stuff too, food, water, all that stuff."
For a while, the two walked silently, occasionally Livia would shiver from the cold so he wrapped an arm around her to keep her warm. They didn't encounter any of the "zombies" for the past twenty minutes of walking but he knew they still were safe, bearing in mind that there were police sirens, gun shots and screaming going on around the whole town.
The cold air just seemed to get colder by the minute and it started to piss Martin off, they were still four blocks away and he was getting chilly. He also started to regret giving his jacket to Livia but she was colder than he was, she was wearing shorts and a tank top so she deserved it. Besides, he wouldn't be much of a gentleman if he kept the cover on.
Then he heard it, one of the screeches that the zombies made when they were going to attack; it echoed throughout the back streets and Martin dropped to a knee with Livia following him.
She grabbed the back of his shirt, "Where is it?"
He hissed, "I dunno, stay quiet."
They didn't move, not an inch as he saw one of the zombies walk around a corner and the two were shocked at what they saw. It was a man, bald, stocky built with a simple t-shirt and torn blue jeans but the right side of his face was missing, along with the eye and any kind of tissue that would have been there.
He turned to face the two teenagers and Livia gulped and her eyes managed to be diverted from the man to Martin un-holstering his handgun. Everything slowed down in motion as he pulled the gun from its haven, Martin's thumb flicking off the safety and he brought it to train at the man. He fired a double tap and the man's chest was potted with two bullet holes.
"Argh," Shouted the man as he took a step towards them.
Martin aimed at his head and pulled the trigger back gently, the gun set off, the nine-millimeter projectile cut through the bitter air and punched its way into the man's forehead, tumbled inside the brain, shredding ever section of it and exited in a downward motion out of the head.
The man staggered backwards, then leaned forward, then dropped to the ground hard with his bloody half face splattering on the concrete flooring.
He looked back at Livia, who only seemed to swallow as they both got up to continue their trek to the police station. That's when they heard moaning.
Livia looked back and grabbed Martin's shirt again, "More of them!"
They stumbling towards them slowly, unlike the running ones they had bump into before.
"Go!" He shouted as he Livia ran past him while Martin gave her covering fire, letting his Glock speak for him.
Livia ran from Martin but not too far, she wanted him to be able to catch up as he ran backwards firing his handgun. She heard the pop of the gun stop and then looked back to see Martin running; she only counted five shots and saw two bodies behind him. The ones who were alive, she couldn't see their faces because of the distance she put between them and herself but enough moonlight showed their blood bright t-shirts and pants.
Running up a flight of stairs, she turned and waited for Martin, who only waved her to keep going. She did so but she was worried about him.
She ran up three flights of stairs before she got to the top, which then was a walkway that led around the corner apartment building they were at. It looked like a construction pass way and there were a couple of wood two-by-fours that were made into a bridge that went across an alleyway and to the other side where another apartment building was at.
Livia took the first step onto the planks and then stayed still, then begun to walk very slowly across it. As she did so, a zombie moaned from behind her and she froze, scared shitless to move.
Martin ran up the steps and sighted the zombie, put his handgun into the face of the thing and pulled the trigger once. The man stopped in his tracks, his head tipped back and he fell onto his back, twitched once, twice then stopped. He didn't move after that. Martin nodded at Livia.
She nodded back and carefully walked over the alleyway, the boards under her started to creak a little, then as she got to the middle, the boards snapped.
Livia screamed as she fell towards the ground, her arms reaching towards Martin who could only watch as she hit with her feet, leaned forward and collapsed onto her right shoulder. She sat up, rubbed her shoulder and then tried to stand only to fall back to the ground.
Martin crouched down over the edge of the walkway, "Livia you okay?" He shouted down at her, concern in his voice.
She looked up at him, "I think I did something to my ankle!"
"I'm coming down!"
Just then, when he was already sick of the moaning that the zombies made, a loud one echoed throughout the alleyway that Livia was lying in the middle of. He saw them, two zombies on both sides approaching her slowly but close enough that they could devour her in a couple of seconds.
He didn't waste any time.
Martin looked around for a foot hold or something he could use to step onto but found none; instead he placed his feet on the side of the walkway, took a deep breath and dropped down, leaned forward, rolled over his shoulder and his backpack and landed in a couched position right beside Livia. By that time, he was between his new friend and one of approaching zombies.
He aimed and fired, the zombie collapsed quickly, dead at where he was just shot at and when Martin turned to shoot the second, he heard a metallic click and saw that his handgun's slide was locked back with the ejection port exposed.
The zombie continued to move toward Livia, his arms out at her and wanting to dig his teeth into her skin as Livia put an arm around her eyes as if she was blocking out bright light, but she only wanted to defend herself. The zombie grabbed her arm and went in for the bite.
Martin cursed and then threw his handgun aside, ran at the zombie, ducked his head down and tackled the zombie, pushing him away from her and then collapsing on top of him. The zombie rolled the teenager over and the two struggled, Martin pushing the zombie's pale and cold skinned face away from his but the zombie was winning, it was somehow stronger than Martin as he pushed his face towards the defending adolescent, its mouth open and the smell of rotting flesh breezed of the zombie's mouth. It was a horrible smell.
Someone yelled in the background and then hands wrapped around the zombie's face and it was pulled up and then off of Martin. He saw that Livia managed to crawl to the zombie and pull him off of Martin. She then grabbed a rock and smashed it into the face of the undead creature.
She crawled to him, looked down at him and stared into his eyes. He was shivering and shocked.
"Fucking thing almost got me," He said, staring at the wall of a building.
Livia's fierce face turned into solemn as she helped him sit up and then smiled at him and he could smell her now that she was this close to him, it was a pleasant, soapy smell, not like the ones where the girls in his school would wear perfume; this was natural, "Let's get moving," She said quietly, "I don't want you freezing."
He nodded, "Sure, let's go. I'll carry you since your ankle."
"I can probably walk," She responded, "I just couldn't that first time because the pain was awful but I'm sure I can walk now."
He stood up first and then reached down at her. He pulled her up and then set her onto her feet where she wobbled for a second but then was still, "I'll probably be limping, how far is the police station?"
"Another four blocks."
"Okay not too bad," She limped back to where Martin threw his handgun, which was beside a garbage dump with flies zooming around the stench and leaned down, picked it up and then walked back to Martin. She placed it into his hand and watched, impressed, as he pulled a new magazine out of his pocket and set it between his index and middle fingers. He then ejected the empty one from the handgun and before the magazine hit the ground, he slapped the new one home. Two seconds later the spent magazine clattered onto the ground. He bent down and picked it up, slipped it into his right jeans pocket, separate from his loaded ones in the left pocket to make sure he didn't load an empty magazine.
"Let's go." He said and pressed the slide release button on the side of the handgun that made the slide jolt forward, putting a new round into the chamber. He smiled at her and her back to him as they continued their way towards the police station.