Chapter 2: A Tight Spot
James's POV
"What are you waiting for, James? Get your sorry behind over here and get into formation!" Heather commanded from the corner of the room, and I scrambled off the stairs.
"They're going to surround us here. You know that, right?" I said once I kneeled beside her, checking the amount of ammunition I had left.
"I shoot, and then you shoot while I reload, and we repeat the process. It's not like they can go around us either. We're in a corner. Has it ever failed?" She replied.
"No, but I actually had a fair amount of ammo all those other times. I've got three rounds left." I answered, and her eyes narrowed into the familiar glare that seemed to say, "Oh, you idiot!" Heck, I didn't exactly blame her.
"Well, it's too late now." She muttered, and a hellhound came charging right at us.
Heather took the first two, using only one clip of her M1 Grand rounds, and I shot the next two while she reloaded. It went on for a while, until we were sure that no more dogs were on their way.
"Alright," said my partner, standing up from her crouched position, "those dogs don't travel in larger packs than that. I think we're good." However, the haze wasn't going away.
"Heather…" I called in a shaky voice, still in formation.
"What?" She questioned, not bothering to turn my way. She was reloading her weapon with the last couple of rounds she had left. When I didn't answer, she turned around, and in front of us were at least ten more of those wretched dogs. Their eyes were filled with a hungry and ready-to-kill expression.
"Oh, no…" Heather muttered, and we began to run for the door under the stairs. We knew that we couldn't hold them off with our poor supply of ammunition. I quickly went to open the door and my partner threw two grenades behind us. We were ready to book it out of there. There was only one little problem: That stupid door just wouldn't budge!
"Holy crap, what are we going to do?" I shrieked, frantically looking around the room for spare weapons as Heather, aware of our situation, began to shoot those hellhounds down with even more precision than before in order to save her last magazine.
Finally, she was down to two dogs, but to what effect? She had run out of ammunition, and so had I. The two remaining hellhounds charged, and we were forced to dodge them.
One of the dogs growled at Heather and lunged, slashing at her feet. The attack set her off balance and she tripped. The hellhound landed on top of her, and its ferocious teeth clashed with her knife. The collision made a scraping sound as her arms quivered under the hellhound's strength.
Seeing the situation, I raced over, my own knife at the ready, but I had completely disregarded my own enemy, and he downed me quickly. The situation seemed hopeless, and I couldn't help but believe that this was all my fault. If I was only a little more careful with my ammunition, those hellhounds wouldn't have stood a chance, but I always had to ruin everything. Now, as we were about to die, I fully realized that. I wished I wouldn't have been so stupid. I wished that I could be the one she could depend on, instead of being yet another burden. The only times I ever did anything right was sheer luck, and that was something we couldn't always count on. In other words, she was always the one to pick up the slack, but she was down now…
As I squirmed hopelessly under the dog's weight, I heard my partner cry out in pain. One swift glance at her explained it all. The creature had slashed at her arm, and she was quickly bleeding out.
My eyes widened behind my shades as the horror of losing her tore at both my heart and mind. She had been a sister to me ever since that wretched day in my hometown, when everything we used to know was crushed into a million worthless pieces.
"No!" I exclaimed, and mustered up as much strength as I could to get that hideous dog off of me. I then lunged at the hellhound on top of Heather, and began my gore fest. I wouldn't stop stabbing until its bloody guts lay scattered on the floor, and its heart was shoved down its throat.
Once again, however, I forgot about my own enemy, who was set on doing to me what I had just done to his fellow hellhound. By the time I was through with him, there was nothing left except what I couldn't put my knife through, and I helped Heather up. As I wiped the rotten blood and guts from my coat, my partner's eyes grew wide, and she sprung towards me, dropping me to the floor.
"What the hell, Heather!" I shouted. Her hands were gripping my arms a little too tight. But she couldn't have converted this fast, could she?
At the same time, I saw the last hellhound leap over us. It had obviously been targeting me. I sighed with relief, finally comprehending my partner's actions.
Heather hastily wrapped a bandage on her injury, and I scrambled to my feet and began circling the beast with my knife set in front of me like a shield. Heather followed, and the hellhound turned from one to the other, trying to decide which one of us would become its next meal.
Suddenly, the sound of bullets rang through the air, and the hellhound collapsed. The haze began to clear, and in front of us were two strangers holding AK74U's. The door under the staircase was ajar.
"You know how to say owned in Russian? Owned!" The one who had shot bellowed. He had "Nikolai's Vodka" written all over his bag, so we guessed that was his name. He sounded vaguely familiar…
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The other questioned. "What is a pretty little girl and a feisty little boy doing down here?" We didn't answer.
"What? Not a single fucking thank you? Nothing? We just saved your sorry asses." The Russian growled.
"Finally! Humans!" I yelled with relief, though it came out more like a grunt because of my still fluttering heart and the need for breath. Throughout those four painful months, we hadn't met a single human being.
"I told you they were zombies…" Nikolai muttered to his partner, lifting his weapon again slowly.
"No, not like that!" Heather cried. "Please, we need help! We're just a couple of survivors from zombie attacks. We have no family or home to go back to. Please help us!"
"And why the hell should we?" The Russian said, taking a swig of liquor from a flask.
"Put that down, Nikolai. You're going to get drunk and useless like last time!" The other said.
"Fuck you, American! I'll drink my vodka when I want to!" retorted Nikolai. His partner rolled his eyes.
"Look kids, if you need help, well help yourselves because we're in a bit of a tight spot and we don't have time for you." He said. "And speaking of tight spots…" The American turned around and began shooting at an oncoming hoard of creepers and zombies, but to no avail. They just kept on coming.
"Shit! A little help here Nikolai?" He shouted, and Nikolai turned unsteadily towards the zombies.
"Right with you, Tank!" He responded, and clumsily raised his AK74U. However, his aiming was completely reckless and inaccurate. The Vodka had finally taken its toll.
"Ah! Tank, this is what you get for letting him drink those last four bottles of Vodka!" Tank yelled, continuing to shoot at the zombies, who were dangerously close by now.
"Oh, give me that!" Heather exclaimed, and shoved Nikolai aside, taking his weapon and his grenades. She tossed the AK74U to me and began to cook the grenades. I immediately began to fire.
"Ah, the little bitch! That was my Vodka! Mine only!" He complained, and lunged for Heather. My partner, however, was able to dodge him while throwing three cooked grenades at the zombie hoard. They exploded a split second after, leaving them no time to react.
"Shut the hell up, Nikolai! The lady is working here!" Tank ordered angrily, turning his head to look at his partner. However, that was a mistake.
Noticing this opening, a zombie pushed forward through the remaining crowd and took a hold of Tank's neck. I immediately tossed my weapon to Heather because I thought that shooting him would put the American in risk of a bullet, and I lunged at the struggling pair. I was able to break the zombie's grip on Tank, and I aimed a kick to its torso. I missed, but it definitely ended well. My sneakers came in contact with his chin, and his head came right off, thanks to the decaying flesh.
By the time I looked up, all the zombies that had been in front of us were on the floor, a bullet in each of their skulls, and Heather was kneeling next to Tank, checking for wounds. "Whatever… Even a blind squirrel is right twice a day." He said, and we helped him up.
In the background, the drunken man was laughing like there was no tomorrow. "Did you see that?" He said. "That was fucking badass kid!" As much as I hate to admit it, I'm pretty sure I blushed in embarrassment.
"Kid has a name, you know." said Tank, and he turned to us. "Who are you guys? Cause' I know sure as hell you're no rookies." He looked at us with suspicion written all over him.
"Like I said," spoke Heather, "We're just people who need a place to go, and a way to get out of here."
"And your names are…" He pressed on, and I answered.
"This is Heather, and I'm James."
"Well, Heather… James… You're coming with us now. You've proven to be of use, unlike some people." Tank glared in Nikolai's direction.
"Got that right! If it weren't for sexy bitch and pretty boy, your ass would be on the house!" He commented, ignoring his offense.
"Shut your mouth, Nikolai, before I tear your brains out and feed them to the dogs!" Tank replied, and I turned to Heather, grinning.
"Something tells me you're going to get along just fine with him." I whispered, and she shook her head, laughing as she heard her favorite line being spoken by someone else.
A/N: Thanks to all those who have reviewed! I really appreciate it!