Dan jumped backwards, and felt the wind generated by the beast's claw brush
against his neck.
"Shit!" That was the only thing the S.T.A.R.S. leader could think to say, as he pulled his Desert Eagle from his holster. The creature let out a low, gurgling growl in its throat as it prepared to jump forward again. Before it could however, Josh had found his mark with his Glock. Seven rounds drilled their way into the monster's back. As each hit however, they sank in no more than a few centimeters, causing the beast no small amount of pain, but certainly not doing much to stop it either. With its attention piqued, the creature turned slowly towards Josh.
"Dan. help!" The junior S.T.A.R.S. member stumbled backwards slowly, as the beast leapt up once more, its long, clawed arm held out in preparation for the kill. The monster, however, had forgotten about Dan. A loud, booming crack filled the air, and the right leg of the airborne animal was engulfed in a spray of red. Distracted by the sudden pain, and screeching a high-pitched cry of rage, the animal fell down onto Josh, knocking him to the ground. Both participants in the struggle were completely surprised by the fall, but the creature reacted first. Bringing a clawed hand up to the sky, it prepared to swing it down into Josh's face. The S.T.A.R.S. member wasn't going out that easily however. With his free hand, he grabbed beast's fast-descending wrist, halting it a few inches above his face. Monster and Human glared eye to eye for a moment. The creature growled. Josh merely offered a cocky smirk. Just then, his Glock shot forward, and the barrel slammed itself directly into the monster's eye. The inhuman creature howled in pain, before it was silenced by a bullet driving straight through that eye, and into whatever brain it had.
The creature, Josh realized as it fell down onto him, was incredibly heavy for doing all that jumping. Dan quickly helped to shove the thing off. "What the fuck was that thing?" Dan asked, nudging it with one boot.
"They look a little like something Chris described. A. Hunter. That's the name he used. He hated the things." Josh brushed some of the blood from his vest with one of his hands, which, he thought to himself, was thankfully gloved. Christ, what a mess.
"Well. Now that we're done with that pleasant little distraction, I think we should get back to the overpass. You ready?"
"Not quite. Just one little thing." Josh took a few steps back before, with a running start, he kicked the Hunter's ribs hard, feeling at least one give way. "Bastard! There. Now I'm done. Let's go!"
It was about an hour later when all four S.T.A.R.S. made their way back to the compound. It was another twenty before Dan was the one to finally figure out what it was. As things turned out, it was a prison. Nobody seemed altogether too happy with the knowledge, but, as there was absolutely no other shelter, nobody offered a complaint to going in. After a little combat knife-related persuasion, a section of the fence finally fell. The S.T.A.R.S. team made their way cautiously inside, each man covering the others. Nobody wanted to take any chances, especially after Dan and Josh's account of their encounter with the Hunter. Josh was appointed as the point man, largely, he thought, due to his junior status, as they neared a door to the main building. From the looks of things outside, they could tell that the prison had been out of service for quite some time, so nobody really expected to see anybody living. However, that was hardly a comforting thought.
Josh expertly kicked open the door, not much in the mood to bother with a lock, and stepped into a dark hallway, filled with cells on either side. However, they were far from alone. A loud, hungry moan echoed out from the left of the door, out of view of the other S.T.A.R.S. members. Josh, however, saw all to well, and all too late. Without more warning, a zombie lurched forward, and planted its rotting, stinking arms on Josh's shoulders, drawing its face forward, attempting to bite into the S.T.A.R.S. marksman. Before any of the others could even react, however, a girl stepped out from the shadows as well. The butt of a shotgun was swung upwards, and hit the zombie's chin, forcing the undead creature back. In a flash, the shotgun was pressed back against her shoulder, and firing. The ghoul's head erupted into seemingly a million pieces, which splattered against one of the cell doors. In a quick movement, the girl turned, and the shotgun was pointed towards the S.T.A.R.S. group.
"Damn zombie," the girl said, and shoved a loose strand of hair out of her face with her free hand. She kept the shotgun aimed towards them. "So from an asshole, I go to four dingleberries. Who the hell are you?" Her light brown, shoulder-length curly hair was clipped at the back of her head with a battered claw, and her brown eyes glared suspiciously from behind a pair of glasses. She wore a faded jean jacket with the sleeves rolled past her elbows over a gray T-shirt, which was spattered with dirt and God-knows- what-else. Her pants were fatigues, and they were stained with blood. Judging by the way she moved and stood, however, the blood was not hers. Combat boots completed her apparel, and of course, the shotgun leveled directly at the group.
None of the S.T.A.R.S. thought to say a word. They were all simply too shocked, both at finding a survivor in a prison, of all places, and at the fact that she was so well armed. David, being somewhat of a gun buff, placed the shotgun as some sort of Remington, though of what sort he couldn't tell with all the darkness. Finally, Dan spoke up.
"Missouri Special Tactics And Rescue Squad, S.T.A.R.S. We're cops. Who the fuck are YOU?" The team leader, though of course glad to find a living person, was altogether too suspicious at the same time. It's not just everybody after all who has what looked like a Hunter claw holding their hair back.
"Hm. Isn't that the flashy title?" The girl responded, nearly rolling her eyes, if not for wanting to keep the S.T.A.R.S. members in sight. "Me? I just live around here. Some suburbs not too far away. I ran off when all hell broke loose, and found myself here. Which reminds me. What the hell are FOUR cops doing here? Shouldn't you have backup for this sort of thing?"
David was the first to speak up. "Well, you see ma'am, we've sort of been caught off gua-"
David's sentence was broken off by Nick, who held a hand up to silence him. "What my good friend David here means is, our backup's been cut off, but we'll have some soon." David pulled Nick aside, and whispered to him.
"What the hell are you doing, man?" The demolitions expert rolled his eyes, as though the answer should be blindingly obvious.
"Simple, David. We want her to think we've got it all under control right? I mean, comforting and all. So, we let her think that backup's on the way, and she doesn't get depressed."
David blinked, unsure if Nick really believed what he said. "Um. She's got a ten-gauge shotgun there, sparky. She's looking mighty upbeat to me."
"Hey. Dorkasses. I can hear you talking." The girl tapped her foot impatiently.
"Er," Nick blinked, "I knew that." The girl motioned with her gun for the two to rejoin the group of S.T.A.R.S. officers.
"Now. One of you explain what's really going on?" There was a definite harsh edge to the girl's voice. As Josh reflected, it probably came from living through for god-knows-how-long in this place. Hell. There were probably family members, friends, who'd turned into zombies. Taking this into account, he decided then and there to regard her as an equal. Experience, after all, is better than training. And the S.T.A.R.S. weren't even trained for THIS. As such, he decided he'd tell her what they knew.
"Well. if I'm going to tell you," He said, holding his hands up as a gesture of goodwill, "I'd like to have a name."
"Fine," the girl threw in an eye-roll for good measure, "Kelsey. You need more than that, ask me later, once we get out of here. Yours?"
"Josh," The S.T.A.R.S. marksman gave a small grin, despite the condition, "And hey. That's OFFICER dingleberry."
"Keep it in your pants, Pig."
"What? No, I didn't mean-"
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Dan said, wisely deciding to step in, "Alright. Since we've got this shelter, we should use this time to figure out a plan. Any ideas?"
"Shit!" That was the only thing the S.T.A.R.S. leader could think to say, as he pulled his Desert Eagle from his holster. The creature let out a low, gurgling growl in its throat as it prepared to jump forward again. Before it could however, Josh had found his mark with his Glock. Seven rounds drilled their way into the monster's back. As each hit however, they sank in no more than a few centimeters, causing the beast no small amount of pain, but certainly not doing much to stop it either. With its attention piqued, the creature turned slowly towards Josh.
"Dan. help!" The junior S.T.A.R.S. member stumbled backwards slowly, as the beast leapt up once more, its long, clawed arm held out in preparation for the kill. The monster, however, had forgotten about Dan. A loud, booming crack filled the air, and the right leg of the airborne animal was engulfed in a spray of red. Distracted by the sudden pain, and screeching a high-pitched cry of rage, the animal fell down onto Josh, knocking him to the ground. Both participants in the struggle were completely surprised by the fall, but the creature reacted first. Bringing a clawed hand up to the sky, it prepared to swing it down into Josh's face. The S.T.A.R.S. member wasn't going out that easily however. With his free hand, he grabbed beast's fast-descending wrist, halting it a few inches above his face. Monster and Human glared eye to eye for a moment. The creature growled. Josh merely offered a cocky smirk. Just then, his Glock shot forward, and the barrel slammed itself directly into the monster's eye. The inhuman creature howled in pain, before it was silenced by a bullet driving straight through that eye, and into whatever brain it had.
The creature, Josh realized as it fell down onto him, was incredibly heavy for doing all that jumping. Dan quickly helped to shove the thing off. "What the fuck was that thing?" Dan asked, nudging it with one boot.
"They look a little like something Chris described. A. Hunter. That's the name he used. He hated the things." Josh brushed some of the blood from his vest with one of his hands, which, he thought to himself, was thankfully gloved. Christ, what a mess.
"Well. Now that we're done with that pleasant little distraction, I think we should get back to the overpass. You ready?"
"Not quite. Just one little thing." Josh took a few steps back before, with a running start, he kicked the Hunter's ribs hard, feeling at least one give way. "Bastard! There. Now I'm done. Let's go!"
It was about an hour later when all four S.T.A.R.S. made their way back to the compound. It was another twenty before Dan was the one to finally figure out what it was. As things turned out, it was a prison. Nobody seemed altogether too happy with the knowledge, but, as there was absolutely no other shelter, nobody offered a complaint to going in. After a little combat knife-related persuasion, a section of the fence finally fell. The S.T.A.R.S. team made their way cautiously inside, each man covering the others. Nobody wanted to take any chances, especially after Dan and Josh's account of their encounter with the Hunter. Josh was appointed as the point man, largely, he thought, due to his junior status, as they neared a door to the main building. From the looks of things outside, they could tell that the prison had been out of service for quite some time, so nobody really expected to see anybody living. However, that was hardly a comforting thought.
Josh expertly kicked open the door, not much in the mood to bother with a lock, and stepped into a dark hallway, filled with cells on either side. However, they were far from alone. A loud, hungry moan echoed out from the left of the door, out of view of the other S.T.A.R.S. members. Josh, however, saw all to well, and all too late. Without more warning, a zombie lurched forward, and planted its rotting, stinking arms on Josh's shoulders, drawing its face forward, attempting to bite into the S.T.A.R.S. marksman. Before any of the others could even react, however, a girl stepped out from the shadows as well. The butt of a shotgun was swung upwards, and hit the zombie's chin, forcing the undead creature back. In a flash, the shotgun was pressed back against her shoulder, and firing. The ghoul's head erupted into seemingly a million pieces, which splattered against one of the cell doors. In a quick movement, the girl turned, and the shotgun was pointed towards the S.T.A.R.S. group.
"Damn zombie," the girl said, and shoved a loose strand of hair out of her face with her free hand. She kept the shotgun aimed towards them. "So from an asshole, I go to four dingleberries. Who the hell are you?" Her light brown, shoulder-length curly hair was clipped at the back of her head with a battered claw, and her brown eyes glared suspiciously from behind a pair of glasses. She wore a faded jean jacket with the sleeves rolled past her elbows over a gray T-shirt, which was spattered with dirt and God-knows- what-else. Her pants were fatigues, and they were stained with blood. Judging by the way she moved and stood, however, the blood was not hers. Combat boots completed her apparel, and of course, the shotgun leveled directly at the group.
None of the S.T.A.R.S. thought to say a word. They were all simply too shocked, both at finding a survivor in a prison, of all places, and at the fact that she was so well armed. David, being somewhat of a gun buff, placed the shotgun as some sort of Remington, though of what sort he couldn't tell with all the darkness. Finally, Dan spoke up.
"Missouri Special Tactics And Rescue Squad, S.T.A.R.S. We're cops. Who the fuck are YOU?" The team leader, though of course glad to find a living person, was altogether too suspicious at the same time. It's not just everybody after all who has what looked like a Hunter claw holding their hair back.
"Hm. Isn't that the flashy title?" The girl responded, nearly rolling her eyes, if not for wanting to keep the S.T.A.R.S. members in sight. "Me? I just live around here. Some suburbs not too far away. I ran off when all hell broke loose, and found myself here. Which reminds me. What the hell are FOUR cops doing here? Shouldn't you have backup for this sort of thing?"
David was the first to speak up. "Well, you see ma'am, we've sort of been caught off gua-"
David's sentence was broken off by Nick, who held a hand up to silence him. "What my good friend David here means is, our backup's been cut off, but we'll have some soon." David pulled Nick aside, and whispered to him.
"What the hell are you doing, man?" The demolitions expert rolled his eyes, as though the answer should be blindingly obvious.
"Simple, David. We want her to think we've got it all under control right? I mean, comforting and all. So, we let her think that backup's on the way, and she doesn't get depressed."
David blinked, unsure if Nick really believed what he said. "Um. She's got a ten-gauge shotgun there, sparky. She's looking mighty upbeat to me."
"Hey. Dorkasses. I can hear you talking." The girl tapped her foot impatiently.
"Er," Nick blinked, "I knew that." The girl motioned with her gun for the two to rejoin the group of S.T.A.R.S. officers.
"Now. One of you explain what's really going on?" There was a definite harsh edge to the girl's voice. As Josh reflected, it probably came from living through for god-knows-how-long in this place. Hell. There were probably family members, friends, who'd turned into zombies. Taking this into account, he decided then and there to regard her as an equal. Experience, after all, is better than training. And the S.T.A.R.S. weren't even trained for THIS. As such, he decided he'd tell her what they knew.
"Well. if I'm going to tell you," He said, holding his hands up as a gesture of goodwill, "I'd like to have a name."
"Fine," the girl threw in an eye-roll for good measure, "Kelsey. You need more than that, ask me later, once we get out of here. Yours?"
"Josh," The S.T.A.R.S. marksman gave a small grin, despite the condition, "And hey. That's OFFICER dingleberry."
"Keep it in your pants, Pig."
"What? No, I didn't mean-"
"Okay, okay, that's enough," Dan said, wisely deciding to step in, "Alright. Since we've got this shelter, we should use this time to figure out a plan. Any ideas?"