Resident Evil
Shadows on the Wall - Part 3
"God dammit, there's just too many of them!" Mendoza shouted over the racket of machine gun fire and low moaning of the flesh hungry undead.
"We have to get to the extraction point!" Orlando yelled as he mowed down a column of zombies. "The city is done for." Mendoza cursed under his breath as the seemingly endless wave of walking dead shuffled and staggered towards the remains of his squad. Orlando, Hurtado and himself were surrounded, the only sign of escape was behind them, through a dark alley echoing of death.
"There's no way we're gonna get through all of them," Hurtado said as he calmly reloaded his weapon. "We have to go through the alley."
"It'll take too long," Mendoza replied. "By the time we get there, our transport will have left."
"It's either chance the alley, or wait here until we run out of ammo," Orlando shouted over his shoulder. Mendoza stared at the rotting, maggot filled faces in front of them, and then the stretching black behind them. If they went through the alley, there was no telling what they might run into. They might even run into more of those skinless monsters with claws. He could still smell the powerful stench of decay seeping out of its mouth. He could still hear the steady clicking noise it made as it slowly made its way across the wall. He could still see its whip like tongue, shooting out of its mouth, tearing through flesh.
"Mendoza!" Orlando barked. Mendoza gritted his teeth.
"Through the alley!" he ordered. Hurtado dashed towards the alley, taking a few pock shots before he got into it. Orlando ran in next. He gave Mendoza a look of relief as he passed by him. Mendoza took one last look at the living sea of dead flesh and realized they were damned if they did, and damned if they didn't. The alley was small. It was pitch black and the air was eerily still and warm. Mendoza flipped the switch to turn on his flashlight, forgetting that he had fallen on it and had broken the bulb earlier that evening. He tossed the junk behind him, the clank it made as it hit the cement floor ringing throughout the passage. All that could be heard was the heavy stomp of boots, breathing, and the desperate moans of the undead.
"Wall," Hurtado reported. "Turn right." Mendoza threw out his arm, hit the wall, turned right. Somewhere up ahead, he heard glass breaking and shouting coming from Hurtado. Seconds later came a short explosion of machine gun fire. Mendoza heard him curse loudly.
"You all right up there?" Mendoza called out into the dark.
"I'm fine," Hurtado replied. "Just a little scratch." They continued their run through the alley, taking more turns running into a couple zombies. Mendoza was amazed that an alley this complicated even existed. After what seemed like hours, Hurtado reported that he could see light up ahead. They broke out of the tiny alley into the cold night air.
"Where are we?" Orlando murmurred.
"I don't know," Mendoza replied, as he scanned the area. "That looks like a residential area up ahead."
"Maybe we should go check it out," Hurtado said as he examined his wound. "Damn zombie chomped me good."
"You'll be all right. Come on, let's go!" The three men dashed up the hill and into the middle of an empty street. Unlike the city below, fire did not dance dangerously atop the buildings, and the dead did not shamble about in a parade of decay. Many of the houses were painted a pale white, and a lot of windows were either boarded up or broken. Zombies had no doubt been through here, but where were they now? They walked down the street, suspiciously glancing at every front door, expecting a horde of monsters to burst out of every home and meet them in the middle of the street.
"You think we should check out some of these houses?" Orlando asked.
"I don't know," Mendoza replied.
"There might be survivors here," Hurtado added. The sound of gun fire suddenly filled the night sky. The three men ducked behind a parked car and raised their weapons and began scanning the area for the shooter.
"Where did that come from?" Orlando whispered. Hurtado pointed to something about ten houses away.
"Look!" he whispered loudly. A man wearing a flannel jacket was running into the front yard of a house, carrying what looked like a handgun. "What do you think he's doing?"
"I don't know," Mendoza replied. "Let's follow him." They made their way to the house and crouched down behind the fence. Mendoza motioned for them to storm the yard, and they rushed in, weapons drawn. The man lay dead at the doorstep, his face torn apart. His weapon and what looked like a small knife lay in a pool of his blood. The words Scrutum Securtiy Service was printed on his jacket.
"Damn," Hurtado muttered. "Something got this guy good."
"Those things are here," Mendoza said.
"What things?" Orlando asked.
"Those things we saw in the sewer. Look at those claw marks on the side of the house." Mendoza stepped up to the front door and shoved his foot into it. It budged a little, but not much more as he continued his assault. He cursed, aimed his sights on the door knob, and pulled the trigger. His machine gun spat out a torrent of bullets that practically tore through the door knob and knocked it off door. All it took to break through was a final shove of the shoulder. The three men searched through the house rapidly, systematically scanning every room. They swarmed into one room, only to be knocked back by a forceful blow from a whip. No, not a whip. A tongue. The thing hissed furious murder as it clung from its perch on the ceiling. Mendoza and Orlando jumped head first into the room and recovered with a roll. Hurtado walked into the room, firing madly at the ceiling. The monster screeched and dropped to the floor. Before Mendoza and Orlando could even aim their weapons, the creature swiftly whipped its tongue in a fierce circular attack, striking them both in the face. Hurtado fired at the creature, getting a few hits in before the creature hopped into the air and slashed its razor sharp claws through his torso. Hurtado screamed out in pain and dropped his weapon. The monster shot its tongue out, peircing Hurtado's neck, reducing his scream to a bloody gurgle. Orlando shouted and fired at the creature, only to end up hitting Hurtado in the legs and stomach as the creature leapt out into the hallway. Hurtado slumped over at the entrace of the room, the creature screaming murder throughout the house.
"Shit!" Orlando shouted as went to check Hurtado. "I didn't mean to shoot him!"
"He was bitten by that zombie," Mendoza reminded him. "Maybe this is for the better."
"What are you talking about!"
"Listen, at least it won't have to be us to have to put him down!"
"You don't have to ---" Mendoza quickly put his hand over Orlando's mouth.
"Be quiet," Mendoza told him. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"I thought I heard a noise come from that locker." Mendoza walked quietly to the locker and put his hand on the handle. He rested it there for a while, not sure if he wanted to open it or not. He pushed down on the handle slowly. The latch unlocked itself with a loud clang. A shuffling noise came from inside. Mendoza looked at Orlando. He nodded and brought his weapon up. Mendoza aimed his weapon at the locker as well, and cautiously opened the door. Laying curled up in the corner of the locker was a little girl. Fearful tears were seeping out of her tightly shut eyes.
Shadows on the Wall - Part 3
"God dammit, there's just too many of them!" Mendoza shouted over the racket of machine gun fire and low moaning of the flesh hungry undead.
"We have to get to the extraction point!" Orlando yelled as he mowed down a column of zombies. "The city is done for." Mendoza cursed under his breath as the seemingly endless wave of walking dead shuffled and staggered towards the remains of his squad. Orlando, Hurtado and himself were surrounded, the only sign of escape was behind them, through a dark alley echoing of death.
"There's no way we're gonna get through all of them," Hurtado said as he calmly reloaded his weapon. "We have to go through the alley."
"It'll take too long," Mendoza replied. "By the time we get there, our transport will have left."
"It's either chance the alley, or wait here until we run out of ammo," Orlando shouted over his shoulder. Mendoza stared at the rotting, maggot filled faces in front of them, and then the stretching black behind them. If they went through the alley, there was no telling what they might run into. They might even run into more of those skinless monsters with claws. He could still smell the powerful stench of decay seeping out of its mouth. He could still hear the steady clicking noise it made as it slowly made its way across the wall. He could still see its whip like tongue, shooting out of its mouth, tearing through flesh.
"Mendoza!" Orlando barked. Mendoza gritted his teeth.
"Through the alley!" he ordered. Hurtado dashed towards the alley, taking a few pock shots before he got into it. Orlando ran in next. He gave Mendoza a look of relief as he passed by him. Mendoza took one last look at the living sea of dead flesh and realized they were damned if they did, and damned if they didn't. The alley was small. It was pitch black and the air was eerily still and warm. Mendoza flipped the switch to turn on his flashlight, forgetting that he had fallen on it and had broken the bulb earlier that evening. He tossed the junk behind him, the clank it made as it hit the cement floor ringing throughout the passage. All that could be heard was the heavy stomp of boots, breathing, and the desperate moans of the undead.
"Wall," Hurtado reported. "Turn right." Mendoza threw out his arm, hit the wall, turned right. Somewhere up ahead, he heard glass breaking and shouting coming from Hurtado. Seconds later came a short explosion of machine gun fire. Mendoza heard him curse loudly.
"You all right up there?" Mendoza called out into the dark.
"I'm fine," Hurtado replied. "Just a little scratch." They continued their run through the alley, taking more turns running into a couple zombies. Mendoza was amazed that an alley this complicated even existed. After what seemed like hours, Hurtado reported that he could see light up ahead. They broke out of the tiny alley into the cold night air.
"Where are we?" Orlando murmurred.
"I don't know," Mendoza replied, as he scanned the area. "That looks like a residential area up ahead."
"Maybe we should go check it out," Hurtado said as he examined his wound. "Damn zombie chomped me good."
"You'll be all right. Come on, let's go!" The three men dashed up the hill and into the middle of an empty street. Unlike the city below, fire did not dance dangerously atop the buildings, and the dead did not shamble about in a parade of decay. Many of the houses were painted a pale white, and a lot of windows were either boarded up or broken. Zombies had no doubt been through here, but where were they now? They walked down the street, suspiciously glancing at every front door, expecting a horde of monsters to burst out of every home and meet them in the middle of the street.
"You think we should check out some of these houses?" Orlando asked.
"I don't know," Mendoza replied.
"There might be survivors here," Hurtado added. The sound of gun fire suddenly filled the night sky. The three men ducked behind a parked car and raised their weapons and began scanning the area for the shooter.
"Where did that come from?" Orlando whispered. Hurtado pointed to something about ten houses away.
"Look!" he whispered loudly. A man wearing a flannel jacket was running into the front yard of a house, carrying what looked like a handgun. "What do you think he's doing?"
"I don't know," Mendoza replied. "Let's follow him." They made their way to the house and crouched down behind the fence. Mendoza motioned for them to storm the yard, and they rushed in, weapons drawn. The man lay dead at the doorstep, his face torn apart. His weapon and what looked like a small knife lay in a pool of his blood. The words Scrutum Securtiy Service was printed on his jacket.
"Damn," Hurtado muttered. "Something got this guy good."
"Those things are here," Mendoza said.
"What things?" Orlando asked.
"Those things we saw in the sewer. Look at those claw marks on the side of the house." Mendoza stepped up to the front door and shoved his foot into it. It budged a little, but not much more as he continued his assault. He cursed, aimed his sights on the door knob, and pulled the trigger. His machine gun spat out a torrent of bullets that practically tore through the door knob and knocked it off door. All it took to break through was a final shove of the shoulder. The three men searched through the house rapidly, systematically scanning every room. They swarmed into one room, only to be knocked back by a forceful blow from a whip. No, not a whip. A tongue. The thing hissed furious murder as it clung from its perch on the ceiling. Mendoza and Orlando jumped head first into the room and recovered with a roll. Hurtado walked into the room, firing madly at the ceiling. The monster screeched and dropped to the floor. Before Mendoza and Orlando could even aim their weapons, the creature swiftly whipped its tongue in a fierce circular attack, striking them both in the face. Hurtado fired at the creature, getting a few hits in before the creature hopped into the air and slashed its razor sharp claws through his torso. Hurtado screamed out in pain and dropped his weapon. The monster shot its tongue out, peircing Hurtado's neck, reducing his scream to a bloody gurgle. Orlando shouted and fired at the creature, only to end up hitting Hurtado in the legs and stomach as the creature leapt out into the hallway. Hurtado slumped over at the entrace of the room, the creature screaming murder throughout the house.
"Shit!" Orlando shouted as went to check Hurtado. "I didn't mean to shoot him!"
"He was bitten by that zombie," Mendoza reminded him. "Maybe this is for the better."
"What are you talking about!"
"Listen, at least it won't have to be us to have to put him down!"
"You don't have to ---" Mendoza quickly put his hand over Orlando's mouth.
"Be quiet," Mendoza told him. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
"I thought I heard a noise come from that locker." Mendoza walked quietly to the locker and put his hand on the handle. He rested it there for a while, not sure if he wanted to open it or not. He pushed down on the handle slowly. The latch unlocked itself with a loud clang. A shuffling noise came from inside. Mendoza looked at Orlando. He nodded and brought his weapon up. Mendoza aimed his weapon at the locker as well, and cautiously opened the door. Laying curled up in the corner of the locker was a little girl. Fearful tears were seeping out of her tightly shut eyes.