Francis was off like a shot, moving at a dead sprint through the woods as I bent to retrieve my fallen AUG, nearly out of ammo just like Francis's precious shotgun. Starting off after him, I caught a glimpse of frenzied movement out of the corner of my eye and whirled, gun up and tracking from sheer instinct.
That instinct saved my life. The hunter came hurtling from the depths of the forest with a screech, bloodstained claws extended, feral eyes glimmering in the shadow of its hood. I ducked out of the way just in time, following up with a kick to the hunter's face as it landed and turned to follow me. It stumbled backwards, and I splattered its brains across the trunk of a tree.
Turning, I watched in horror as Louis came hurtling through the air, striking a tree with what must have been incredibly painful force. I could hear something crack from across the clearing - whether it was from the tree or Louis I couldn't tell, but I prayed it was the former. Then a tank followed him out of the woods, roaring and bellowing with wrath, its huge arms pulverizing any foliage unlucky enough to get in its way.
With a curse, I put on a burst of speed, sprinting over and sliding to a halt in the grass next to Louis's prone form. I rolled him over onto his back, my heart pounding in my chest, and let loose the breath I'd been holding as he tried to struggle to his feet. I helped him along the way, then turned to aid the rest of the group. Francis was jogging backwards with the tank in pursuit, slamming a new clip - with a jolt, I realized it was his last - into the AA12. Bill was running along behind and to the side, unloading with his rifle.
Then Francis cut loose, and I recoiled slightly as blood and shards of bone exploded from the tank's back. The buckshot barrage tore through the lumbering monstrosity, and it collapsed forward, its feral roars trailing off into a grumbling sigh.
With a distraught look, Francis extracted the round magazine from his formidable weapon, gazing into the empty drum and then down at his apparent lack of any spares. Heaving a sigh, he placed a tender kiss on the barrel of the AA12, then set it down gently next to its last kill. Straightening, Francis turned and walked towards Louis and me, smiling sadly.
"Gonna miss that thing," he said, then rolled his shoulders and stretched.
"It sure as hell came in handy," Bill admitted, slamming a new clip into the newer-model M16 he'd picked up back at the 'safe' zone. Working the bolt, he turned to spit out his cigarette - it had burned down to an apparently useless stub - and reached into his pocket for another. Fishing out the small cardboard box, the 'Nam vet swore at the rapidly dwindling number of cancer sticks in his possession, then extracted one and placed it between his lips.
As Bill lit the cigarette, Francis turned toward me and whispered "You okay, babe?" I nodded, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I'm fine," I said, and Francis turned away, satisfied.
Then all eyes turned toward Louis, who was doubled over, clutching at his chest and breathing through clenched teeth. Pocketing his lighter and walking over, Bill said "Here, son, let me have a look at you," and busied himself carefully inspecting Louis's injuries.
-O-
It had all been going so well, too… I reflected, as my face was slammed into the ground. I spat dirt and grass from my mouth, wriggling beneath the hunter's iron grip, but to no avail. Claws dug into my back, and I let out an involuntary gasp from the pain. The horde howled all around, and I could hear the chatter of gunfire over the screeches of the hunter atop me. My left arm was pinned beneath me at an awkward angle, but my right was free, and with it I started scrabbling for my handgun. As the hunter's claws tore at my back, I thanked my lucky stars for the heavy jacket I'd picked up to ward away the chill. The thick, sheepskin-lined garment afforded some protection from the rending talons.
Snatching up my pistol at last, I fired it blindly over my shoulder, emptying half the clip before I heard a yelp of pain interrupt the hunter's snarls and howls. Putting the rest of the clip into my would-be killer, I was forced back to the ground as the hunter's limp form slumped over on top of me. All the muscle required to propel it on its huge leaps made it heavier than one would assume.
Rolling over onto my back and shoving the hooded corpse off of me, I scrambled unsteadily to my feet, retrieving my second pistol from where it lay. We had found the river, and followed it until we came to an overpass. A car had crashed through the railing and landed in the water below, and when a stray bullet had nicked it we had discovered that somehow its alarm was still functional.
Then, while the rest of the group had been occupied with the zombies swarming from the woods, the hunter had pounced me. Snarling imprecations about the hooded zombie's parentage, I gave it a savage kick for good measure before turning and blasting away two-handed at the horde.
I turned to look as I heard Francis utter a strangled oath, just in time to see his boots disappear into the foliage. Cursing, I charged after him, swatting aside the branches and ferns that got in my way. I practically tripped over him, and let out a little gasp as I took in his condition.
A smoker had gotten him, as I'd suspected, and its long, slimy tongue was wrapped around his torso, pinning one arm to his chest. It had also, however, snaked up and around his throat, and he was tugging at it with his free hand, but it was clear that if this kept up he would surely suffocate. Fortunately, he had become stuck against the trunk of a tree, and the tongue could not pull him any farther away.
Taking aim, I put a bullet through the tongue, severing the rubbery appendage cleanly. Bending down, I helped Francis unwind the smoker's tongue from around himself, then took his hand in both of mine and hauled him to his feet. Grimacing, he gingerly rubbed at his side, then gave me what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile and retrieved the axe he'd recently scavenged. It was hardly a match for the AA12 he'd lost, but it was better than bare fists by a long shot.
Turning, he cleanly lopped the head from a charging zombie, then shooed me out of the woods, following after and keeping the zombies at bay with flashing steel. As I emerged from the bushes, I saw to my relief that the bulk of the horde lay dead, scattered through the river and along the banks. Splashing down into the water, I clenched my teeth against the bitter cold, suppressing a shiver. Now was hardly the time to be shy about a little cold water.
-O-
As the last zombie fell, and the staccato chatter of gunfire died away, Bill came up and said "We should be getting close by now… everyone keep your eyes peeled. Look for signs, road marks, anything." Francis, the pain he was in rendering his temper even shorter than usual, growled "We know, old man. We all know you always wanted to be a nanny, but find other people to babysit."
Bill shot Francis a venomous glare, but said nothing, merely growling low in his throat and turning away. I gave the big biker a reproving look, and he managed a small smile for my benefit. We had used the last of our first aid supplies on Louis, but I still had some pain pills, which I proffered to him. Taking the bottle gratefully, Francis popped the cap off, shook out a few pills and dry-swallowed them, then replaced the lid and handed it back. I pocketed the bottle, then turned to follow as Bill and Louis started off again.
But then I stopped as a noise caught my attention. "Uh… guys?" I said, looking around. "Does anyone else hear that?"
The rest of the group stopped, and all three men started looking around. My eyes, however, were fixed skyward, as the noise grew louder. "Holy shit," I breathed, and everyone else finally seemed to realize what the sound was as well. "Is that…?" Francis said, but he didn't have time to finish his sentence before a trio of military attack helicopters roared over the horizon.
"Shit!" Bill yelled, and dove for cover as the gatling guns mounted on the helicopter's sleek prows opened up. The chattering howl obliterated all other sounds in the valley, and Francis slammed into me in a full-body tackle, trying to get me out of the line of fire.
The river was just deep enough to completely submerge me, and I involuntarily gasped at the bone-numbing chill of it. Since my head was under, however, I only succeeded in getting a mouthful of icy, murky water in my lungs.
I broke the surface spluttering and coughing, and looked up once my lungs were sufficiently free of liquid. Then I narrowed my eyes in confusion. The helicopters weren't shooting at us - in fact, it was doubtful whether or not they even knew we were here. Their real target was a crowd of infected on the crest of the high riverbank opposite them.
"Nobody move!" Bill yelled, and I complied, sitting as still as my shivering would allow in the frigid water. At last, the roar of the helicopters' weapons died away, and they banked sharply, flying directly overhead before turning and disappearing over the horizon from which they had come.