Chapter 4
I opened the door, expecting to get rushed by as soon as it opened, but I was wrong. There wasn't a single zombie in sight. Marky must've heard something, though, as he was looking around for something or someone. I peered around the corner, no zombies, then walked out, turning on the flashlight mount on my pistol. Marky climbed a gutter running down the wall, and took it up to the roof. Fitting for a Smoker to be up there, I guess.
We began moving forward, encountering some zombies behind the store, by the loading bays, where there were still some trucks parked. Then I heard what Marky must've been looking around for: a Hunter. He didn't sound near, though, so I continued around to the front of the store, thinking nothing of it. There were six or seven zombies, easily picked off with the pistol I had. The Hunter's growling still remained far away, so I figured he was across the street.
I was not expecting it when he pounced me from a ledge on a five-story building across the street. The Hunter, however, must have not been expecting Marky to attack him. Marky did, shooting his tongue at the Hunter and pulling him into an angle of attack that sent him crashing face first into the ground. I chuckled softly, then pressed on, until I heard the Hunter again, sounding more pissed than before. He pounced at Marky, knocking him to the ground. They both struggled for a bit, clawing at each other and making it very difficult for me to get a good shot at the Hunter. I decided I'd just take whatever looked good, and shot thrice. One in the head, one in the neck, and one in the chest.
Turns out one went through, though. It went straight through the meat of the Hunter, and luckily straight through the meat of Marky. Neither of us knew how to extract a bullet proper, but I was pretty good at bandaging. I fixed him up with the little roll of gauze and medical tape I had, and we continued on.
The zombies were still thin when we reached the front of the store, with only ten or twelve in our way. A door was held open by a crowbar, though it looked as if the power was already off to the store, so I picked up the crowbar. You never know when it'll come in handy. The lights were out inside, so I turned the flashlight mount on my pistol on. The light was somewhat dimmer than I remembered, I had a feeling the batteries would die soon.
Marky and I had a job, though, so we did it. We headed straight for the nonperishables section. He hoarded ramen of all flavors while I kept watch for zombies. They were coming in slightly thicker now, with six or eight instead of five or six in a group. Once he grabbed all the ramen he felt like getting, we walked to the soda section, where they also kept bottled water. It's not exactly the best, but it's better than the murky water that pours from the taps, if you find one. Once we filled our pockets with bottles, we headed for the camping supplies.
Then my flashlight died. I was left in the dark, like the night before. Marky however, spotted for me. The Infected could easily see in the dark, with their glowing eyes. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than randomly swinging with a crowbar in the dark. He filled the remainder of space in my pockets with iodine, to purify tap water. The zombies started really coming in, and we decided to hightail it. No such luck.
We made it as far as the doors when a car crashed through them. There was a Tank in the parking lot. He charged after us, and as if on cue, a mob of zombies swarmed in. There was glass from the windows on the floor, but I didn't care. I ran across, determined to get out and away, half-pulling Marky with me. The Tank was just too fast, though. He threw a chunk of asphalt at us before we could make it around the corner. It narrowly missed Marky, but it clipped me hard in the legs. I probably sprained my ankle or something, but I kept running. Marky, however, stayed behind.
"Go Opal! Get your things from the warehouse and run!" I heard him yell.
I refused. I stopped right there, drew my pistol, and shot at the Tank, aiming for the head with each blast. They didn't always hit, but it must've been enough. He started to shake his head, and slow slightly. It was false, as he quickly got over it and charged at me. I could see Marky's face, a horrified expression on it. There was no way I could get out of the way. As what I thought would be a last action, I took the crowbar, and threw it as hard as I could at the Tank's head.
I must've hit right, because the force I felt crash into me was nowhere near what it should've been, and when I looked at the crowbar after prying it free, I could see a little streak of gray in with the crimson blood. I looked to see Marky running at me, the horrified look still there. I turned to take a step, then cried out as an intense wave of pain seared up my leg. I figured the Tank crashing in to me had broken my leg. I collapsed into Marky's arms, and he picked me up, carrying me bridal-style.
He ran with me in arms to the warehouse, quickly opening the door and closing it before the meat of the mob could catch us. The cold gray drab of the place, combined with the fact that I was in Marky's arms, sent signals to my brain that I was safe, and quickly fell into deep sleep. My last conscious thoughts of the night were about how comfortable Marky holding me was.