Cigarettes & Cynicism

Chapter Two – Nostalgic Feel of a Gun in Hand

'Soon as the introductions and niceties were over, it was time to fabricate a plan of action. We needed to find the quickest route out the city, preferably some time before those wretched bloodthirsty bastards showed up. That'd be just dandy.

"Move it or lose it, people!" called Francis in a loud, irritated tone. "We gotta cut through the whole damn Stillwater District before dark if--" Zoey interrupted. "I think you're forgetting we need to make a stop for supplies, genius." she protested as she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. Quite the lil' number, ain't she? Francis continued, ignoring her completely: "…'Cause come nightfall, they're gonna swarm there like a fly on shit, which I'm pretty sure you won't wanna be there to see" he added as he cleared his throat and spat, throwin' in a thumbs down. "C'mon, stop killin' daylight." I added, annoyed. "Gah, this thick fog is killin' my eyes…" Louis grimaced as he dug his palms into his eyes.

They're definitely not the most efficient crew, but we're holdin' our own just fine, I s'pose. I could honestly do without Louis' constant damn complainin', though… as well as Zoey's. The two've got some trouble understandin' beggars can't be choosers. Granted, a bite to eat and a change of clothin' couldn't hurt, right now. That's why we're on our merry way to a nearby survivor camp. I just hope the neighbors haven't gotten there first.

"SCREEEEEE!" a bloodcurdling shriek sounded in the distance. The sound of multiple footsteps grew louder and louder as I started to make out a band of silhouettes coming at us full-speed from our rear. "Ahh, Christ…" I groaned as I cocked my gun. "6 o'clock!" I roared as Louis pivoted and landed quite a beauty of a headshot. "Get a clue, Francis!" Zoey barked as she fired her pistols at the cluster of attackers. "Oh…" Francis turned around with a lackluster look of dumbfoundedness. "Therethey are..." he mumbled to himself. He downed 3 instantly with a quick spray of his M16 assault rifle. "Reinforcements!" Louis cried as another oncoming horde turned in from an alleyway. "I got it…" I called as I pulled out a lil' surprise I had prepared earlier on. "Watch it - Molotov!" I called as I tossed it into the lot of 'em. It engulfed them in the fiery kind of hell they deserved yet curiously escaped the first time they kicked the bucket. "Pity…" I muttered as they burned to the ground. I shook my head. "Waste of good booze."

Louis cheered and wrapped his arm around Francis who gave a hearty victory howl. Zoey, on the other hand was occupied by something else. "G-guys..." she stuttered as she began to back away. The ground began to rumble.

"...'The hell…?" Francis bellowed. "Bah… What's this, now!?" I cried pessimistically.

Zoey had a look of sheer terror in her eye. Shakily, she raised her hand to point at something in the horizon.

"HYEEEEEEEEEUGH!!!" an ear-splitting roar echoed across the street.

"Fuck… Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" Louis bawled.

"Tank."

Ya know, I gotta say that up until now it hadn't been too different from my days in the service: aim, scream, fire, and end those sons of bitches. Real walk in the park - 'cept now… Well, you look me in the eye and tell me you've seen an 8-foot tall Viet with biceps the size of beach balls. Checkmate.