Reviews:

LexiconHuka: I don't exploit glitches unless it's absolutely nessesary.

Dragon'z Huka: And if you require amputation, you wouldn't bleed out because the wound would become instantly cauterized.

Gunsandgames: Thanks!

Analpoptarts: It'll all make sense... eventually :P

Productive faffer: Dunno.

I don't know why I didn't yell, I just backed up against the trunk. Sadly, when I hit it, the trunk popped open, so I took a tumble out. Luck was somewhat on my side, as my foot got caught in a strap of my M60, sending it out with me. I hit the ground with a yelp that must've went unheard by the others, as the Humvee didn't stop.

"Shit..." I groaned, getting to my feet and really wishing that I had Duffy's goggles right now. Looking around, I couldn't see dick for more than five meters at best, and picked up the LMG, switching it into an MP40.

"Welp, I ain't going to get back to Ponyville or find the others standing around..." I muttered, before hearing something running and being slammed into a few seconds later.

'Fuck you, Murphy's Law...' I thought, shoving my assailant off of me and getting to my feet, only to discover that it was a teenager, looked to be in his late teens, and the first thing I noticed was that he was wearing Sonic's soap shoes from SA2. Fuck bro for being a Sonic fan, forcing that stuff onto me whether I liked it nor not. As I looked at him, he scrambled to his feet and looked around, before setting his eyes on me.

"'Ello there." I said in a British tone, grinning like an idiot.

"T-There's z-zombies following me." He stuttered out, causing me to roll my eyes.

"Bloody bastards put up a trap for our vehicle, and I sorta fell out of the back." I replied, looking around. "You wouldn't happen to have night vision goggles, would you?" I asked.

"All I have is the clothes on my back and my iPod." He replied.

"Bloody figures... Alright, which way did you come from?" I asked.

"Behind me." He replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Right then. I vote that we go the other way." I said, grabbing the hood of his jacket and started running in the opposite direction, keeping on the trail.

"How do you know where you're going?!" He asked after I let go, keeping up with me.

"Came this way when we appeared in here. What do you remember before coming to?" I asked, keeping an eye out for any weird looking lights or something.

"I got shot by a few gang members. Is this hell?" He replied, probably not even fazed at this point.

"May seem that way, but no." I answered, letting off a few rounds between two glowing red eyes. "Just a world that happens to have a forest where everything wants to kill you, including the dead. So, you see any other humans besides me out here?"

"Two of them. One was carrying a weapon like that and speaking some weird language, while the other gave me some first aid for a few scratches." He replied, pulling his jacket up and showing me a chest covered in bandages, which was sorta red.

"Was one of them speaking like this?" I asked in German.

"Just like that!" He said, nodding.

"Welp, I guess I found the German..." I muttered, stopping and looking around.

"What is it?" He asked, stopping next to me.

"It's way too bloody quiet... I can't even hear the insects..." I muttered, raising my MP40 and becoming cautious as fuck.

"H..o..?" A distant voice called out, making me whirl around to face the source.

"Identify yourself!" I shouted as loud as I could, causing the kid to wince.

"P... Schmidt... Wehrmacht..." The person shouted back, getting clearer as he came closer.

"What's your name, kid?" I quietly asked, looking around to see if the shouting attracted anything.

"Sergio Sarceno." He replied, holding out a hand. I shook it with a small grin.

"General Mark Durnkinscoff of the USMC and EM." I replied. The sound of something running through the undergrowth made me let go of his hand and raise my MP40, ready to shoot anything that isn't human or is hostile.

"Don't shoot!" The German said, coming out with his hands behind his head. I took a moment to check out his gear. He wore a uniform that was commonly worn on the Eastern Front, telling me that he died fighting the Soviet Union. He had an MP40 dangling next to his waist and from what I could tell he also had a Kar98k strapped to his back, along with four 'potato masher' grenades in loops alongside his belt, two on either side.

"What's your name, soldier?" I asked, lowering my weapon slightly.

"Private Helmut Schmidt. May I ask the same of you?" He replied, lowering his arms.

"General Mark Durnkinscoff, sadly not of the Nazi Wehrmacht. I'm a part of the United States Marine Corps, and more recently of the Equestrian Military." I answered, before narrowing my eyes a little. "Care to tell me exactly why you joined up?"

"It's not like I had a choice, sir. It was either join up or be killed for being Jewish." He replied, causing me to nod in respect.

"How well do you speak English?" I asked, finally relaxing a little.

"Not very well, I'm afraid. The other US soldiers found that out rather quickly. One of them threatened me as soon as he saw me." He replied, frowning a little.

"Helps that he was in the same war as you, which we won, by the way. Hitler killed himself in 1945, and we forced the Japanese to surrender several months later." I explained, shrugging.

"Good riddance." He said, and we suddenly heard some shuffling coming down the trail.

"Sergio, do you know how to fire a rifle?" I asked, tensing up once again.

"Yea, why?" He asked, looking at me.

"Schmidt, give the kid your rifle, and several clips of ammo." I commanded, glaring forward. He quickly complied, pulling a few clips of ammunition for his rifle out of several pockets and handing them over along with his Kar98k.

"When you see a pair of glowing red orbs, aim for the middle. Ask Schmidt to show you how to reload, and be thankful that it isn't an M1 Garand, as you could lose your thumb." I quickly said, getting down on one knee. Sergio nodded and looked down the sights, aiming to the left of me, while Schmidt took my back and right, completing a triangle of death.

"Incoming, my left!" Schmidt shouted, firing off a couple rounds, while I switched my MP40 out for a BAR.

"Sergio, three on your left!" I called out after glancing over at him. Sergio fired as quickly as one could with a bolt-action rifle, only missing once. As I prepared to rip a zombie to shreds, somebody beat me to the punch, the report of another BAR firing and a few pairs of eyes faded.

"Friendlies coming in!" Someone shouted, and I held my fire. Out of the darkness came two people; one of them was carrying the BAR that I heard, had a ammunition bandoleer strapped to his chest, and was from WWII. The other was dressed up in black, had a gasmask attached to his face, and was carrying a shotgun. A bit of a closer inspection indicated that it was a 12-gauge.

"Names?" I asked as they crouched next to me and Sergio, panting a little.

"Private Luke Gallan of the United States Army, Infantry." WWII dude replied, giving me a quick salute.

"Private Connor o'Drake." Gasmask said with a slightly muffled New Zealand accent.

"Pleasure to meet the both of you. Either of you get bitten?" I asked, scanning for any hostiles.

"Nope." They both replied.

"Sergio here got all cut up, but I fixed him up good. Can't say anything about that Nazi, though." Gallan said, glaring a hole into Schmidt's back.

"Easy there, Gallan. He's Jewish, and was forced to fight. Probably wasn't even on the same continent you were when he died." I replied, getting a stare from Connor. Gallan shrugged, and suddenly we were bathed in headlights, causing Schmidt and Sergio to cry out in both pain and surprise.

"You boys need a lift?" Doc called out, sticking his upper body out of the window.

"Ride's here!" I said with a little relief lacing my voice. I repeated it in German for Schmidt, who nodded.

"What kind of vehicle is that?" Gallan asked when he stopped blinking from being half blinded.

"It's called a Humvee. The United States, in my time period, is currently using them as a lightly armored vehicle. Think of a jeep, but with more armor." I explained, sliding in and getting on the turret again. "What's the sitrep, Doc?" I asked as the others got in after me.

"Found the Staff Sargeant lying in the forest, unconscious. He doesn't have any bites on him, so that's a good sign." Doc said, and I just noticed the form of a SS about a foot from my feet. I also noticed that the filly from before was nowhere in sight.

"Alrighty then. Is everyone in?" I asked, looking down. When they agreed, I slapped the roof and Duran stomped on the gas.

'Let's get the fuck out of this forest already.' I thought, glaring at the lights that just watched us leave.

Author's Note: The story will be paused in a few more chapters, so I've started bracing myself for the shitstorm that will ensue.