Chapter 2

Alexiev Sakorsky

I really was not in the mood to deal with creatures like this. It was one of the reasons I had come to America. To escape from danger, to get away from those who would want to kill me. Now, I had these bastards not one hundred feet away, who wanted to eat me. Some country.

"Neekole, get down! I am shooting!"

Nikole was a girl I had found on my way through the city. Unfortunately though, I had found a lot more than just her. Now, we had been chased by our little 'discoveries' and cornered here. Fortunately, however, we had been cornered in one of those 'weekend soldiers' National Guard armories. It was scary, what America kept in civilian areas. Scary indeed.

I hammered the trigger on the gun I held, the barrel spewing fire and bullets into the air. Chunks of rotten flesh flew across the pavement in front of the fenced off building, zombies falling to the ground and heads splattering whenever I had the time to aim. They seemed invincible, these things. They only seemed to stop when they had lost their heads. It was hard, aiming for the head with a gun like this. I sprayed the front line of the oncoming corpses before pulling back, loading another box of 7.62 NATO rounds into the chamber. I worked quickly, as those things would be able to make it inside the armory without suppression. My fingers flew over the gun, opening it up and removing the empty belt of ammunition. I dragged another over towards me, opening it up and grabbing the end of a belt. I tried to keep myself steady as I loaded it, closing the top of the breech back down, keeping the first cartridge firmly inside the chamber. Finally, I had finished loading my new toy. It was American of course, a large M60. It was a big gun, but the Americans seemed to have fancy for such big guns. I looked behind me for a quick second, checking on Nikole.

She was American, which was not saying much about her. Short, black hair ran down her head, accompanied by black eyes, encased in a pale face. She wore a black shirt that ended before her belly button. A thin, short black vest accented on her shirt, ending just before it hit her black pants. On her neck she wore a black collar-like necklace with a purple pendant in the center. I had heard stories from friends about people in America, who were called "Gothic" people. Her clothes reminded me of those people.

The M60 spit fire and bullets again as I turned back. I slowly moved it back and forth, trying to cut what was left of the zombies down. I was beginning to enjoy doing this. Every time I fired a shot, the gun jumped back against me. It gave me a thrill, cutting down these, these things... Up ahead of me, an engine roared. I looked up. Speeding towards the armory was a little car, light blue and covered in scrapes and dents. It was headed for the fence around the armory. As if it were going to go through it. As if. I readjusted the gun in my arms, firing at it. Bullets pounded through the windshield, causing the driver to loose the wheel and fly up onto the sidewalk, hitting a bricked fence. No way in hell was some mindless idiot going to pave down what I was trying to keep up. I brought my gun back down to the small remaining group. I took my time with the ones I had left, conserving my ammunition. I scanned the scenery in front of me before getting up, putting my gun over my shoulder. Nikole scoffed under her breath as I turned to face her. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, tapping a foot against the roof. She opened her mouth...

"Are you done? Or am I going to have to take that thing away from you?"

I shook my head. I don't think she liked me very much.

"I am quite done, sank you. If you vould not mind, I vould like to investigate zat car."

She nodded. When she did talk, it usually didn't seem to be very nice. Maybe it was just the way American girls were. Maybe, she was just mean. I did not know. Women had always given me trouble. No matter though...with things the way they were, the opposite sex vas not a high priority right now.

I opened the roof hatch for her. She didn't even look at me as she walked downwards. I followed, leaving the hatch open. We made our way passed all of the lockers, with still open crates and boxes of ammunition lying about. Apparently, the soldiers that had been here had not been very good soldiers at all. I unshouldered my M60 and aimed at the set of large double-doors. Moving closer, I kicked it, ramming it open. Aside from the door banging against the steel that surrounded the building, all was quiet. I crouched, trying to sneak outside while lugging the gun. Nikole followed, strolling confidently like nothing was happening. We reached the car, nearing it on the driver's side. I jumped up, putting the barrel through part of the now-shattered windshield. A pale man sat inside, looking suprisedly up the barrel. I kept it on him for a moment before speaking.

"Vhat ees your name?"

His brown eyes flashed up at me, a small trickle of blood oozing from his dark hair. He bit his bottom lip before replying.

"I'm Salone. Now um...mind getting that thing out of my face."

Americans, cocky even when they're staring death. But he was the first human I had seen, aside from Nikole. I edged the gun back, giving him space to open the door and get out. He was tall, his skin the same pale tone as Nikole. He stretched as he closed the door, leaning against the car.

"So the who the hell are you two?"

"Zese ees Nikole. My name is Alexiev Sakorsky. But, if you vant, you can do vhat she does."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

I rolled my eyes. For some reason, People from the West had a fascination with shortening names.

"Call me Alex."