She ran with all her might, desperate to escape. She held her child, a small baby boy of only eight months of age, close to her chest despite the baby's screams. Behind her, about thirteen of the monsters that rose from their graves six months ago were chasing her. Because they were one of the worse ones, having been decomposing for awhile before the apocalypse began, they were slower than the fresher ones, but still faster than the older ones.

Christ, she couldn't even call them what they were, even after living this hell for six months. But the fact was that the monsters were the undead. Zombies. Creatures that tried to eat the living or turn the living into one of them. On the 7th of July, everything changed. Somehow, with no warning or reason, the dead rose from their graves and anyone who ideas afterwards came back.

People fought back naturally, but despite some people having prepared themselves for something like this since the first zombie movie, the government failed to contain it. She didn't know if anyone else in the world was in the same situation, or if it only happened in America, but no one came to save her or her friends. And now, she was going to die. But she wasn't going to let those things kill her or her baby, a fact she assured herself of by the reeling of the gun in her hand. All she needed to do was find a place to do it. A place where she save her baby from becoming one of them. Because she had no hope for the future anymore. And if she couldn't have hope that things will get better, how can she raise her child in a world like this when the chances of dying are so high? So she had to end it now, save him from the fate of becoming one of those things.

Sadly however, her undoing came in the form of her putting her foot in the wrong place, which led to her tripping over a rock. She fell quickly, only barely managing to twist around to make sure her son didn't hit the rough floor. The pain she felt when she landed was nothing compared to the utter terror she felt when she saw the zombies marching towards her. Gripping the gun tight, she prayed to God for forgiveness, before lifting it up to her screaming baby's head.

BANG!

The gunshot rang out in the air and surprised her, because she hadn't fired the gun. Instead, someone had fired a bullet at one zombie's head, killing it instantly. This stopped the other undead creatures, and she spun around to see who her saviour was. If she was honest, she was expecting some action hero. Some secret service war hero that one my existed in over the top action film, and knew who to kill a guy in five different ways using only a fork. Some impossible hero who told you that he or she was placed on this planet for the sole purpose of killing these things just by showing up.

Instead, she found her saviours to be two overweight old men. One was carrying a pistol in one hand and in the other a machete, while having a backpack. If anything, he looked like he was embracing the idea of the practical survivor, the sort of guy who came up with a plan on how to kill zombies instead of going in guns blazing, while having on him everything he should need. The other guy however seemed to embrace the idea of the bloodthirsty zombie killer, being topless with two machine guns in hand and a rambo type headband around his head, which did little to hide his balding head. Neither seemed suited to be survivor, instead looking like they belonged as extras in a film.

What followed proved her wrong. What followed her was the most amazing thing ever. What followed would have made any zombie watching run away terrified. She saw the two March rush towards the zombies, and start slaughtering them all. It was like watching a trained dancer. They seemed to know what to do no matter what the seemingly unpredictable monsters seemed to do in their desire to kill her heroes. The more practical looking one cut heads off with his machete while occasionally shooting them, while the rambo wannabe laughed as he fired hundreds of bullets at the zombies, ripping the creatures apart. Soon there were none left.

"Are you okay miss?" the one who still had hair asked her, putting his gun away and offering her a hand. He helped her up, and after she checked that her baby was safe and starting to calm down after some soothing, she looked at him.

"Thank you." She said, barely able to believe what happened.

"You're welcome. Now, there's some survivors in the 99th precinct down that street down there. You will be safe there." the bald one told her. "Do you think you can make it? We need to go and search for things, like supplies or other survivors."

"Yes. Yes I can make it." she told them, tears of joy welling up in her eyes. But suddenly, as they nodded and started to leave, she realized something. "Wait!"

They turned and looked at her, confused. She hesitated for a bit, before making up her mind and taking a deep breath.

"Who are you guys?"

"I'm Scully. That's Hitchcock." the one with the machete told her.

"And we've got a job to do." the one with machine guns added, before her heroes walked away in search of more supplies and other people to save. And slowly, a smile on her face, she began running to safety with hope in her heart once more.

Tell me what you think. If anyone is wondering what Hitchcock and Scully are like when they are fighting zombies, picture Ash Williams from Evil Dead and multiply his skill in killing monsters by ten. I just figured that if they were in a zombie apocalypse, it would be ironic that they were the best at killing them, when they were incompetent at everything else.