Chapter Twenty-Two

Why is it so quiet out here? Exiting the karate dojo, we did not stumble upon a ghost town devoid of any movement, but the infected we're encountering are far sparser than before. It's eerie. All of us are feeling anxious; we were all ready for another relentless onslaught, and yet here we are barely breaking a sweat. I suppose I shouldn't complain, anything raising our chances of surviving another day is a good thing. Still, I can't help but comment on it. "This is rather… tame." I remark in between infected.

Jim shoots one from a distance, the sound of gunfire briefly echoing across the trees and buildings, small stores and houses surrounding them. "Don't let it lower your guard, though."

"I know, I know."

"Remember that big fucker that attacked us at the playground?" Says Ann. How could I not? It's hard to forget being thrown 30 something feet across a field. I glance at the cut on my arm from the fall. I hadn't thought to bandage it at the time, but it's healing just fine. "The normal infected cleared out just before he showed up. They also began to vanish around the times when we came across those witches."

I take aim, steady my hands, and shoot an infected that's taking its time climbing over a chain link fence. That's thirteen bullets left in this round, I tell myself before responding to the conversation at hand. "So, you think the normal infected tend to stay away from an area that a special kind is hanging around?"

"Something like that." Jim says. "No offense, but you don't seem to have the same effect." Another infected slain by his rifle. We decided it would be best if, while we can manage such a tactic, to have two people doing most of the firing while the other two conserved their amno, until the first two ran out, and then the two teams switch places. That way, if any sudden, unforeseen situation should arrive, there isn't a chance everyone will be caught with their pants down, out of bullets and out of luck.

"None taken." I respond. In fact, I think I'll take it as a compliment. "That special infected at the park, had you all seen one of them before?"

"No, we hadn't." replies Jim.

I pause to expend a number of bullets on a tiny group of infected spilling out of a tennis court, two women and a man. All three are in rather short shorts; one of them even has a little visor. If I wasn't so focused on killing them I might have a laugh about it. "So I guess you all didn't have a name for it then, huh?"

Jim gives Greg the signal to take his place as he fires the last of his round. "Does he need one? He is dead, after all."

I shrug my shoulders and squint off into the distance. I swear I just saw something move across the railroad tracks far ahead. "Well we might see another one, you never know. Whatever."

"'Charger' then." chimes Ann. "You know, like the San Diego Chargers?" The rest of us held no comment. "You know, the football team? He was pretty big, and… I'm the only one who watched NFL, huh?" I can't help but start to giggle. I try to hold it in though; this is no time for silly shenanigans. "Oh shut up! He charged at us, it makes sense! Don't laugh!" Well now that you said not to I don't have a choice. There wasn't even that much funny about it, but I burst into laughter regardless, and that makes Jim in turn start to chuckle. Before we know it the three of us are all in a mad laugh for no real reason at all. Even Greg cracks the tiniest of smiles, though he tries his best to hide it.

A shrill, high-pitched scream tears through the afternoon sky, stopping our laughter dead in its tracks. The four of us all instinctively hold our guns up in defense. I fumble with mine for a moment.

"What the hell was that?" shouts Greg. No one responds, but I can tell we're all wondering the same thing. The scream was terrible, like something you'd hear in an insane asylum or a horror movie. Hearing it felt like it was penetrating you straight to your very heart, chilling you with fright from the inside out. None of us can figure out from where the noise came from, the echoes all around us are masking its point of origin.

A blur appears in my peripheral. Across the train tracks something ran… or did it… fly? Was it on the ground? I couldn't quite tell. I glance towards my companions. Ann and Jim are peering off the opposite way. Wait, where's Greg? I turn back to where I saw the blur, and Greg is running off that direction, without a word to the rest of us. What the hell is he doing? I immediately give chase. "Greg! Hold up!" I shout. He doesn't look back at me. I don't care if he doesn't want to be around me right now, this is not the time to run off alone!

I hear him scoff. "I saw an infected leap into that storage facility!" he shouts back.

"So what? Leave it be if it's not bothering us!" I pause for a moment. "Wait, leap?" I say to myself. I don't think to look back to see if the other two are right behind us or not. Greg is out of my sight for just a moment, as he turns the corner into the facility, past the wreckage of a few vehicles stuck in the gate. I follow as fast as my legs will take me. Another terrible, high-pitched scream rings out, and makes my jump in my skin. Two gunshots immediately follow. Three. Four- no, five! I reach the facility. Greg is standing in the middle of a crossroads, looking bewildered. We spot each other at the same time, and he immediately turns his rifle to face me.

"Don't shoot, it's me!" I exclaim as quick as I get the words out. With a growl, he moves his gun away and starts scanning the skies again.

"It's leaping around the place! It's too fast, I can't get a shot at it!" Greg yells. I turn my gaze upwards. I wish he'd tell me what it looks like, a little more or something.

Another scream, this time clearly from behind. It startles me, but I turn around to see a figure, a shadow against the sun's rays. Greg sees it too. He's running after the thing. Is he trying to intercept it? Will that even work? I follow him. The infected is running across the rooftops. He's right, it is too fast, far too fast for me to get a clear shot at. That doesn't stop Greg from firing off a few shots. I can vaguely make out the infected's figure. He's clothed from head to toe, and he runs with a sort of athletic hunch. Why isn't he coming straight at us? What's he doing? Is this one smarter than the others?

"You don't think he's leading us somewhere do you?" I shout. "Like, a trap or something?" Just then, the infected lets loose his chilling scream once more, and leaps off of the rooftop to land on the path just before Greg. All I can hear before Greg's gun begins to fire away is an angry "Gotcha, you mother-!"

His bullets are in vain. The infected immediately leaps back into the air and onto the door to a storage area, then leaps off of that back onto the rooftops. The infected is so fast it's amazing Greg can follow his movements at all, even if he hasn't a chance at hitting the thing. It's almost as if the infected is toying with him, like a hunter with its prey, waiting for-

Click. Greg's rifle runs out of ammo. Oh shit… I get it now.

"Greg, watch out!" I scream. The infected leaps once more and lands only a few feet away from Greg, who is stammering, desperately trying to find another magazine.

Now… now! I tell myself, shoot it! The infected and Greg are a distance away, but I can still shoot, I can still hit it! I take aim, and fire. I miss. The infected takes notice. Did it not notice me before, or something? No way. It leaps again into the air. I try my best to judge where he's going to land and fire there. I still miss.

Damn it! The infected's going to do the same damn thing with me, isn't it? I fire again, but continue to miss. C'mon Greg, finish reloading already!

Click. I'm out now.

Another scream. This one chills me down to the bone. It's won, hasn't it?

The infected begins a mad dash directly towards Greg. My fears are realized; Greg still hasn't reloaded his damn gun! Shit, what do I do? There's no way I can reload mine in time; it takes me forever! Greg looks even more freaked out than I am.

The infected makes a mighty jump into the air, and pounces directly on Greg.

This time, the scream is not of a maddened infected, but of my ally. What do I do! I repeat in my head. My mind is so alight with thoughts, worries, fears, that in just a split second…

What do I do? I repeat in my head. I have to do something! He's going to die if I don't! I need to run, not away… I need to run at it! I need to attack it!

The split-second of rapid thought ends and I begin my charge. Like an ancient warrior I let loose a furious yell, full of both anger and fright. The infected is on top of Greg, pinning him to the ground, slashing at him with sharp clawed hands, Greg is trying his best to break free, but to no avail. This is it! Strike it! Kill it! Approaching the infected man, I lift my rifle high, and with all the strength I can muster, bring the butt end crashing down upon the back of its head.

The infected is knocked off of my companion, but it is not dead. It rolls along the ground for a bit, staggers, but quickly assumes an animalistic crouching position on all fours, and snarls angrily at me. For a couple seconds, the two of us stare each other down, analyzing the situation, until the infected releases another scream, and leaps off into the distance.

Please leave. For the love of… just get out of here and never come-

POW.

From the storage facility's entrance a loud gunshot booms across the air. In mid-jump, the infected man falls to the ground like a bird just shot of the sky.

"Heeeey." Comes the voice of an annoyed Jim. "Where are you two?"

A smile comes to my face. Thank goodness you showed up when you did. "Over here. Hurry! Greg's injured!"

"I'm fine." I hear Greg's voice grumble from below. "I'm not- hnnngh!" He groans in pain.

I could deliver the expected line and continue the cliché conversation with him, but I decide I really don't want to argue with this kid right now.