Chapter nine: Escape from Blakesfield
"You're coming with us?" Carol sounded almost happy at the news. Patrice nodded.
"As much fun as sitting here by myself, trapped in a burger joint has been, I guess I'll settle for freedom." I nodded at Patrice as I felt the weight of the assault rifle I'd chosen.
"Military will be handy to have, keep us organized out there." Patrice looked at me like I was a germ.
"When was the last time you saw a fucking 6'10, 320 pound tactician? Do I look like some wormy little dickhead who hides in a building and strategizes?"
"Alright, fuck I'm sorry." I knew Patrice wasn't specifically attacking me, he was testing us, seeing how easy we'd crack; I wouldn't give him the pleasure. In addition to the firearms, Patrice had rigged up some pipe bombs with chirping timers and some Molotov cocktails. We were loaded for war; Josh and myself toting assault rifles, Patrice with an automatic shotgun and Carol carrying a scoped rifle; in addition to us all having some form of explosive and two pistols on us, we couldn't have felt any more secure.

"Closest safe house I know of is in Spears, it's a little out of the way on the road to Mission, but it's either that or run through the woods." Patrice's offered knowledge sounded more like an order.
"For what it's worth, I'll take a detour over a blind death march any day." I offered, making my agreement known. No one argued otherwise. Patrice got our bearings, then directed us northwest.

We traveled not even ten yards when the chilling scream echoed through the streets.
"Hunter." I breathed. We scanned the rooftops and alleys frantically, but saw nothing. Again we heard the scream, it was toying with us. I heard Josh's gun fire and I looked in the direction he was firing in time to see a boomer down the street burst into a cloud of blood and bile. Immediately afterwards came the slurping sound of a smoker, its tongue snaring Patrice. Infected came pouring out of buildings and alleys en masse.
"I think not." Patrice snarled at the smoker, grabbing the tongue that half wrapped his torso. With a fierce pull from Patrice, the smoker stumbled out of the alley he was hiding in and staggered towards Patrice. Josh and I were focusing our fire on the stampeding zombies, and while I should have been looking for the hunter, I couldn't help but notice Patrice pull the smoker towards him, raise his shotgun with his other arm and blow the smoker's head apart with one point blank blast.

It was the most badass thing I'd ever seen.

The three of us blew our way through the infected, but we didn't know what the hell Carol was waiting for. The hunter finally showed itself, leaping from a third story window, aimed for Josh. The three of us opened up on it, hitting it enough so that it fell next to Josh in a pulpy pile of flesh and bullets. Then we heard the resounding boom of Carol's rifle. We looked at her, then quickly in the direction she'd fired in, just in time to see a second hunter's body falling from a roof to the street below. We all looked at one another; no injuries and a bunch of dead zombies.
"Shall we continue?" Josh said between heavy breaths.
"Let's." Carol agreed.

We now had means of running finally, though we packed more firepower, we weren't so burdened that we could only jog at most. Josh, being more slender than myself and significantly leaner than Patrice, kept getting ahead of us, proving to us that he was easily the fastest of us. Patrice and Carol both would take turns falling behind us; Patrice due mostly to his mass, and Carol, poor girl just wasn't used to so much strain on her body. Regardless of the setbacks, we'd been making good time, encounters had been small handfuls of zombies at the worst, and we could count on our hands how many special infected came at us. Within the hour we were at the city limits for Spears. The now familiar safe house icon had been spray painted on the city sign, with an arrow pointing down the main street.

We had no idea that we'd also be greeted with such a mob.

Without warning a car came bouncing at us.
"Tank!" Patrice screamed. We knew it was back there somewhere, but all we saw was a sea of common infected charging us. "Shit! No no no!" Patrice screamed again, I turned to see a boomer puking on him, making him the target of the wave coming at us.
"Circle around Patrice! They want him, not us!" I shouted, which we were doing successfully until Carol screamed. A smoker had pulled her from us and was clubbing on her back with his fists.
"Help her!" Patrice ordered us, firing his shotgun blindly at the horde. Josh took one step towards her when a hunter pounced on him.
"Get it off me!" his desperate screams made me freeze, at least I felt like I froze, my body somehow kept moving but it wasn't of my doing. I clubbed the hunter with the butt end of my gun, and it staggered off Josh.
"Pipe bomb out!" Patrice shouted over the madness, the blinking red light and beeping tone of the bomb traveling away from us; the horde followed it.
"Motherfucker!" Josh screamed at the hunter that had been on him seconds ago and unloaded a clip into it. I was too focused on running to Carol to see the second hunter that pounced on me. I squeezed my arms against my body and protected my face and neck with my hands as I felt it trying to slash me open. What felt like large knives tore into my arms, I felt the burning pain and tasted my blood spatter onto my face. A loud crunch signaled that the hunter was off me as I saw Patrice take a second swing at the hunter with his shotgun, caving in its skull. I didn't even remember my own injuries; adrenalin reminded me of Carol and her situation. I got up and tackled the smoker that held her. I gripped the slimy tongue with my right hand and pulled as hard as I could, it immediately went slack and hung in my hand, a stream of black blood flowed from the smoker's empty mouth. Pistol in my other hand, I mounted the downed smoker and fired three shots directly into its face.

Then all was silent.

Next I knew I was flying sideways through the air. Everything hurt for only a moment before going numb. I wondered if I was dead, but then I felt the concrete welcome me as I bounced a few times, and I realized I hadn't been granted the mercy. Carol screamed my name, at least I think it was Carol, the voice was high so I assume it was. I felt the ground rumbling beneath me, which spurred me to look up at what had just punched me fifteen feet down the street. The tank charged at me, fist raised and ready to come down on me.
"Not today asshole." I somehow screamed, rolling away from the smashing fist. The impact, though it missed me, still pushed me a few more feet. I somehow got to my feet and pulled my Molotov from my belt. I heard gunfire, but whether or not it was directed at the tank I wasn't sure, nor did I have time to find out. Instincts, adrenaline, I don't know what but something took over because there's no way I could have dodged that fist again on my own accord. The tank punched at me but caught nothing but air as I dove away. I lit the Molotov with Steve's lighter and threw it at the tank's back. The bottle shattered into a ball of flames that poured down the tank's back. It screamed, whether it was a scream of pain, anger, I didn't know.
"Towards us!" I heard Josh's voice, but all I saw was tank and flame as it wound up to hit me again. I didn't even have time to move, again I felt the sensation of flight and the agonizing crunch of the ground welcoming me. The rumble seemed further away, but was getting closer. Carol screamed, then Josh. Patrice shouted obscenities I'd never even heard before over the sound of his shotgun firing again and again. The world was out of focus but again somehow I got to my feet.

Ever notice how when death is inevitable, mankind is still too stupid to just accept it peacefully?

Through the blurs, I saw a glowing, fiery form charging at another large figure, muzzle fire exploding from it every second. I raised my rifle and squeezed the trigger, pointing at the flames. I soon felt no kickback and heard only clicks. The logical thing to do would be to reload, but adrenaline and logic have never been known to be good friends. I dropped my rifle and brought up both pistols. All I heard was Patrice screaming at me, asking me what the fuck I was doing. Another figure was now up and firing at the tank, but another lay on the street.

That was Carol, she wasn't moving. The son of a bitch killed Carol.

I jumped on the tank's back, its focus no longer on the other figures with muzzle fires but on whatever was stupid enough to mount it. I felt the heat of fire, but that didn't matter, right now I had to worry about arms bigger than me reaching back to grab me. I put both pistols against the back of its head and pulled the triggers madly. Flashbacks of the bank tried to get into my mind, but now was not the time. I felt the body go limp and crumble beneath me and I fell from its back. Next thing I knew I was kneeling on the street, a smoldering mound of tank lay dead next to me.

A hand touched my shoulder and snapped me out of whatever trance I was in. The pain politely returned to my arms immediately. My eyes focused to see Carol looking at me, she was alive.
"You okay?" I asked her, just now being helped up by Patrice. She nodded, she was understandably shaken, but she got to her feet regardless.
"We need to patch you up." Josh said to me, his hand still on my shoulder. I got to my feet on my own power and assured them I was fine.
"I don't know about you guys," I managed to croak between gasps, "but I'm getting all funned out. Where's that safe house?"

And there we were, at the city limits of Blakesfield and Spears, knee deep in dead zombies but still somehow pushing on.