--
Jim was in the fourth tangent of his conspiracy theory, somehow on the topic of the Sega Master System and the NES, when George noticed the slightly cracked door towards the end of the hallway. George signaled for Jim to be quiet, but Jim ignored him as usual, ranting about the decline of top loaders at the hands of side loaders somehow heralding the fall of civilization.
"It's like they want 'em to break, you know, testing to see how far we go. And then what do we do, we oblige 'em! Those corporate fatcats get rich because we won't take a stand when we know we're right...we know, and they know we know...but still nothing happens!"
He was beginning to draw the similarities to Umbrella when the zombie stumbled from the closet to fall upon him. Dressed in a tank top, gym shorts, and oversized hightops, it was previously a gym member of some sort, large and muscular. Jim struggled vainly against it, squealing his high pitched screech, slapping at it in an almost playful manner, the light of his flashlight flipping across the ceiling and walls as he tried to free his gun hand for a clean shot.
George wound up the table leg in his hands, pulling it back over his shoulder before swinging it hard towards the creature's head. The hard edge of the corner caught the monster's temple, caving in its soft flesh so violently that its right eyeball popped out, dangling freely at the end of a long purple blue vein that oozed a pasty fluid down the peeling skin of its pallid face. The stunned zombie recoiled, giving the frightened Jim a chance to break free from its hungry embrace. Ducking under its flailing arms, Jim jammed his handgun at the inner part of the zombies' knee, firing one round into it, then the other, destroying the support joints of the top heavy creature. It fell forward on its jelly knees, and Jim leapt up, grabbing the short pony tail of the guido zombie. Pulling it's twisting head backwards, he rammed the barrel of his 9 mm into its open mouth and fired a shot that sent brown brain matter spraying across the walls and floor. Standing over the fallen zombie, Jim took the opportunity to crush its now fully disconnected eyeball, grinding it deliberately under his sneaker.
"Jim...? Are you ok," George asked, suddenly worried by Jim's actions, which could only fall into the realm of blind, berserker rage.
"That fuck--fucking bully rejected my gym membership...said I wasn't good enough for his here meat market," he said, storming off without giving it another glance.
George went to follow, casting one last worried look at the creature, when they both froze at the sound of a woman's shrill scream from downstairs.
"Alyssa!" cried George, hurrying after Jim as they sprinted for the stairs.
--
Cindy heard what she thought was a scream from the muffled confines of the basement. She turned, unsure exactly where it had come from, or who's cry it even was. It was high pitched, feminine, frightened...in other words, it could just as easily have been Jim as Yoko or Alyssa.
She decided no one in the group could have gotten ahead of her, so she turned back, hoping she wasn't leaving someone else she didn't know about to a dreadful fate. Her flashlight stuttered, the light dimming, and she smacked it with the butt of her handgun to get the last bit from the batteries. Great; in addition to being down to two bullets, her flashlight was nearly dead. The thought of darkness all around her without a weapon was too frighening for her to even consider. Maybe she'd save one bullet for herself...but she pushed that thought aside as she moved to the stairs.
Another scream shook her from her reverie, and she sprinted up the metal stairs of the basement, the clanking of her shoes disturbing her thoughts. At least she was sure now; that was definitely from the locker rooms. Alyssa or Yoko needed her. She stood at the hallway intersection, two directions to go. But which way?
Her thoughts raced. She hadn't heard a gunshot, so it couldn't be Yoko, who'd had her shotgun. But then, what if she'd been taken unawares? Picking at a lock, her rifle tucked away...then again, there wouldn't have been a second scream if the small girl had been surprised. Alyssa wasn't the type to scream for help, though, either. Much less twice.
What felt like an eternity passed, frozen between choices with the life of someone hanging in the balance. Biting her lip, Cindy finally turned to her left and ran as fast as she could.
--
Author's note: I know this chapter is a bit short and the segment really doesn't go anywhere new, but I've had this sitting for awhile on my desktop. I hope putting it out there will prompt me to write out the rest of it; I've got some good ideas I'm trying to flesh out at the moment. It's funny, I'm currently writing another fanfic in installments too, and it's really made me realize some of the consistent pitfalls of my writing. I realize the Outbreak story has stalled a bit from its original promise, but it's one of the stories where I had the ending already written (almost a year ago, actually)...it's just a matter of getting to that point. I might fast forward to the conclusion, and use the survivor(s) to go in a completely different direction, but we'll see. As always, thanks for reading and keep an eye out for new work.