Chapter two in the Struggle Of Survival. Now with more infected! All rights belong to Valve.


Not a single, shit stirring DNA- experimented bastard was going to get him. Ever.
Walter P. Greenfield never used to be a man of violence.
But when this pandemic emerged, he didn't seem to have a choice.
So when he read about people eating people in other parts of the world than Africa, he went down to the local gun store and bought the biggest rifle they had.
And now, the politician who used to be a soft and understanding person, was sitting on the second floor in a school, blowing heads of the infected outside.
He reloaded the sniper rifle and took a glare through the scope. It was a quiet day outside this day. He searched with the scope, looking for something to hunt down.
He stopped at the sight of a young girl, who had most of her face dug into a trashcan. It could have been a normal human, if it weren't for the skin color. It was grey.
Damnation, he wouldn't mind having her up here. If she weren't infected that is.
He sighed. "Oh well, better get this over with."
He aimed at the back of her head and pulled the trigger. The head exploded in a mass of blood and the girl fell down the trashcan.
"I consider that a job well done" Walter lowered his sniper with a confident smile, but raised it again when he saw a shadow of a man, at the end of the street.
Strange, this guy had a normal skin color..

Terrance stood next to Hardy, when she opened the door to the diner.
He took a glance at her while she was busy with the diner door.
He liked what he saw. She was in her late twenties and had long black hair, which covered the most of her back. She was wearing a green t-shirt and standard jeans.
Hardy pushed the door open.
"Wauw" she muttered and stood still in the door.
"What is it?" He walked up beside her and looked into the diner.
He slowly opened his mouth.
It looked like something from a fairytale. The dark castle of the dragon.
A small stream of light came through one of the windows, with dust particles flying around inside the beam.
There was six round tables standing in the middle of the diner, all covered with web. The front desk had a thin layer of dust, so had the bottles standing in the cabinet behind the desk. Even though they had only survived in this apocalypse for two weeks, they had seen a lot of things. People murdering each other for a can of peas. Bloody aisles in supermarkets. Wrecked and raided from everything, pharmacies.
But this. You should think that it hadn't been touched by humans, for a thousand years.
The whole diner had a calming brown color, except for the floor, which was covered with shiny, white tiles.
Behind the counter stood, was Terrance had been looking for: food!
Two great, white coolers containing everything from biscuits to sausage, vegetables to ice cream.
"Jesus Christ!"
Terrance took five long steps, before he stood in front of the coolers. He grabbed the handle of the left cooler and pulled the door open.
A sweet and firm aroma of, what Terrance would consider as heaven, filled the room.
"This is amazing!" Terrance yelled with joy.
"Yeah, there's enough food for about two months here" Hardy replied.
Terrance took a box of Sneakers, pried it open and ate everything within. Never had he thought, that he was going to taste the lovely flavor of chocolate, ever again.
They both raided a shelf in one of the coolers and dragged the food over to a nearby table to eat.
After a delicious meal, consisting of ham and donuts, they started filling Hardy's bag with everything from both coolers.
Finally our luck is beginning to turn, Terrance thought, while filling the bag. It could almost hold everything, except for a paper bag of tomatoes, which Hardy ate.
She put the bag on and went over to the door, but stopped because Terrance hadn't followed.
"What are you doing?" she asked, clearly irritated.
Terrance had opened the liquor cabinet and searched through the bottles.
"I'm just getting something to celebrate with" he shouted in her direction.
Terrance had always loved Billy Beer and hoped they still had a couple here.
Damn, why is all the bottles stacked like this? Terrance thought to himself.
Hardy whistled impatiently over by the door.
Perhaps this was the thing that coursed Terrance, not to pay attention for a moment. His left shoulder hit the cabinet, which wasn't attached to the floor, with such power, that the whole cabinet came crashing down.
All the bottles broke on the floor with a terrible noise and the whole cabinet fell onto the counter and smashed into pieces.
Suddenly it was all like, that the order in this little paradise had been disturbed and now the outside world was returning.
Terrance was paralyzed. Both him and Hardy knew what high noises meant. The Horde was coming.
"Shit, let's get out of here, Terrance!" Hardy ran over to him and grabbed his arm.
"Come on, let's move."
Terrance started at the damage he had coursed.
It was always him, who were the professional in this apocalypse, he finally felt like he was good at something. And now he had screwed up. Big time.
A loud gunshot, brought him out of his daydream.
Hardy had blown the brain out of an infected, which had just entered the front door. And many more were wrestling to get in, in this very moment.
Terrance raised his shotgun and fired into the mass.
Four zombies took direct hits from the shot and three of them fell. Some also got knocked over, but quickly got on their feet again.
Terrance knew that they would never survive by defending this diner. They had to get out.
"Find a way out!" Terrance yelled over the moaning sound from the infected, while reloading his shotgun. "I'll keep them busy."
Terrance fired once again into the mob of infected, trying to push through into the diner.
There was a mean sound of exploding flesh and the once so beautiful diner, was now covered with blood, around the corner where the door was.
But it seemed like for every zombie Terrance killed, three more would appear.
He fired again. A zombie which was about two feet away from him, got its whole upper body blown off and fell into the mass.
Sweat came running down Terrance's back.
This isn't going to last for more than minute! He was starting to wonder what it would be like to be dead, when suddenly Hardy yelled from behind him:
"I found a bag door!"
Terrance shot one more time, then turned 180 degrees and ran towards Hardy, who held a wooden door open.
I'm going to make it, Terrance thought triumphal. Just a few steps more, then he would be out.
He looked at Hardy's face while running.
Strange how she was starring at something behind him.
He then felt something around his one leg. It felt like a chain, dragging him backwards, towards the horde.
He looked down and saw something that looked like a red power cable, however he knew it was a tongue.
The Smoker suddenly pulled him back with such great force, that he fell forwards.
The last thing he saw before he hit the floor, was a can of Billy Beer laying beside the fallen cabinet.

Walter took a cigarette from the carton and passed it in the direction of the man, sitting in front of him.
"You want one?" Walter studying the man while asking the question.
He didn't seem infected. But there was a difference of looking infected and being infected.
The man just looked at him. Then slowly shook his head.
Walter putted the carton back in his jacket pocket and took his lighter out.
The man hadn't said much since Walter got him in here.
He must be in some kind of shock , thought Walter. Or else he was just acting like a statue. Maybe both.
Walter leaned a little forward on the bench, he was sitting on.
"So, what's your story?" he asked. "Why did you just wander around out there?"
The man had a small bag with him, but Walter didn't suspect it to be carrying any weapons. Probably just food or pictures of a long gone family.
The man just raised his head as a response to the question.
Walter kept looking at the bag. He was running low on food himself.
Maybe he should ask the man to join him? No, that would be too big a risk, Walter knew that.
The man was alone and as far as Walter had seen, unarmed.
Right, best take the chance and kill him, Walter decided.
He stood up and pretended like there was something outside. "Hey, did you hear that?"
Walter walked over to the window. His rifle stood against the wall next to the window. Walter could just reach out and take it, from where he was now.
He looked over his shoulder. The man was still sitting where Walter had left him. Good.
This was almost too easy.
Quickly Walter reached out and grabbed his sniper rifle. He turned with the gun up to his shoulder and took aim.
The gunshot echoed through the entire building and a few birds on the roof, left their sitting spot with complaining cries.
Smoke came from the barrel of the gun.
A small P228. A handgun designed for medium ranged combat.
Of course, Walter thought. He had it under his jacket all the time. Stupid of him not to think that.
Walter dropped his rifle and fell to his knees. Blood streamed from the big hole in his gut and he coughed up blood also.
The man slowly raised from his seat and walked over to Walter.
"Want to know my story?" he whispered in a hoarse voice.
"My name is Desmond Kingston. I'm an ex-military with more than thirty lives on my conscience. Let's make that thirty one now."
He took his bag and the sniper rifle, then walked away, while Walter bled to death.


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