"OK soldiers, it has come to my attention that I haven't been straight with you guys. I said that we were here to exterminate the remaining Nazis. What I was a little reluctant to say is that these," Peter held up the body of the creature that attacked me. "These things are the Nazis we were sent to kill." Blackthorn got up off the church pew he was sitting on and walked over to the mutated Nazi.
"What the hell happened to them? Why are they so..." He gestured at the Nazi. "Ya' know, screwed up?What did they do to themselves? I always knew Nazis-" Peter suddenly cut him off.
"These things aren't Nazis anymore. When I first met these things, my general dubbed them zombies, based on the fact they ate the rest of our squad and could only die with a shot to the head." Peter looked around the room. We had all been pretty paranoid since Peter killed the zombie. The sound of the attack had apparently drawn out more zombies. For the past half hour there had been constant moaning from outside. "As for what they did to themselves, that is still unknown. All we know is that the last band of zombie killers were killed while clearing a German factory. Now if we could someho-" There was a loud snapping noise that we all went rigged at.
"GUYS! THERE ARE A LOT OF THEM OUT HERE!" Hoffman yelled. He was standing guard at the door that led to the room we were talking in. When we heard his Thompson firing and Hoffman calling the zombies all kind of odd names in English and Japanese, we knew it was bad. "DIE WORM FOOD!" He screamed and we heard a zombie give a dieing scream. We all ran out to see the zombies.
"Oh shit..." a wide eyed Peter said. "I haven't seen this many since the asylum... Well, what do you say we help Hoffman out?" He said as he cocked his M1A1 Carbine.
"Gladly!" I growled as I pumped my Trench Gun.
"Lets kill these brain dead bastards!" Blackthorn exclaimed as he put a new clip in his BAR.
We all gave a battle cry and ran into the fight. There were so many zombies, I lost sight of my allies. It was me, the zombies and the limbs I sent flying. With every shot, at least three zombies would fall. I could hear the guns of my fellows, and by their yelling I could tell Hoffman and Blackthorn were having a good time. I was personally having a good time myself!
I heard a yell above me and looked up to see Peter swing over me on a chandelier. He let out a maniacal laugh as he open fired with his riffle. Within five seconds, all the zombies around me were laying headless at my feet. Wait... That one was still running! I pulled out my knife, stuck the zombie in the back, pulled it to the barrel of my shotgun and BOOM! When the zombie fell to the ground I saw a gaping hole in its chest. This was the kind of stuff I could get used to! As I was thinking triumphant thoughts, a zombie struck me between the shoulder blades. I fell forward onto my knees. "Damn these things are tough!" I wheezed. Working on my built up adrenaline I got on my hands, and kicked out with my back feet like a donkey. My kick landed the zombie square in the chest. I swiftly pulled out my Colt, which I never was without, and landed a shot square in the monsters forehead. "I LOVE BEING A MARINE!" I yelled as blood spattered in my face. Suddenly a zombie head flew at me.
"Hey Parker! Catch!" Blackthorn called. I caught the head and laughed as I smacked another zombie in the face with it.
After about an hour of non-stop zombie killing fun, the final zombie fell headless at my feet. Panting, I whipped blood and sweat from my face. I looked around at my comrades. Peter looked at us, and raised his arms and bellowed this: "Now THAT, was a hell of a Friday night!"