Chapter 7
Nikole Hammond
I watched the guys stare off into the city. Alex had said something to Salone, but I hadn't heard what. I was too busy fixing up the damn backpacks. I'd assumed that since Alex had to be some kind of butch guy and carry all the bullets around, that there would only be need for two other backpacks. Each one had the same stuff, except for the one I planned to carry, which harbored Salone's Foreman grill. Other than that, it was the same: Some MRE's we'd found, a pot, some pans, flashlights and pocket knives found here and there. Oh, and crowbars...I couldn't forget those.
The two nitwits still hadn't moved. Standing up straight, I layed my hands on my rifle and walked over, looking outwards. I peered out across the city..and figured out what had them gaping.
"Who the...hell...?"
It was a...guy. A really big one too. He was built like some person named Rambo I had once seen in a movie. Only black. He carried his gun in one hand, leaving the other free. He wore some type of dark blue uniform...covered in what looked like...oh my god...flesh? He was covered in zombie bits! It was a wonder he was still walking...
But as he neared, on closer inspection, I didn't see a single scratch on his body. Not a single mark. Whatever this guy had gone through...he'd done it good. Very good. I hoped he was on our side. He walked slowly. He seemed to have some type of air about him, like...like an aura. Brimming with confidence and nerve. As he walked, his shoulder moved, revealing the letters 'SWAT' briefly. So that's what he was...He stopped at what was left of the armory gates.
"Captain Josh King, SWAT. What is your situation?"
This guy was authority. He was bristling with it. Like he wanted control...for once, I was glad that Salone was going to be an ass.
"Well, gee Mr. King, my name's Salone. The guy beside me is named Alex, and the chick back there's named Nikole. Our present situation as I have code-named it, is called 'Maximum-Fucked'. It means, we're fucked. Our destination is probably hell, but if you count the zombies, it will probably be changing to the nearest living person's throat. Byebye now, we don't need you!"
On second thought...maybe I wasn't. Josh looked slightly pissed.
"Is there someone else around here that doesn't have their head so far up their ass that they don't have trouble speaking?"
Alex stepped forward. He raised the M60 high off his shoulder, nestling it in his hands. He didn't seem to like the newcomer either.
"My apologies, sir. I believe that we have optimal variants for the aspects of our current situation. Our destination is simply out of town to go elsevhere."
The SWAT guy bought it. His eyes ran over us a couple of times. He looked old, like...thirty maybe. Late twenties, tops. When I thought about it, our little group was a bit on the young side. Salone was immature enough to be a seventeen year-old, Alex's face gave him away to be somewhere around twenty one, and I myself coming in at nineteen. This guy expected to just show up and become our leader. Pathetic.
"If you're going out of town, then you're going to need an extra gun. I take it you will not mind if I go with you."
Bastard thought he could just sneak in! That was the thing about the older guys...everything always their way...I turned, looking expectantly up at Alex. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Salone doing the same. We'd put him on the point, briefly had him become leader from some sort of nonverbal agreement. He didn't seem to mind...after a bit, he replied.
"Fine, you can come with us..."
Alex turned, walking back into the armory. mumbling one last remark.
"Bring your own damn food."