Resurrection

Chapter 3: Armed and Ready

"Keep it. I never use the knife. I like guns better! And you need weapon anyways!" Boris smiled, showing his yellow teeth.

I unsheathed the knife. It is a bowie knife that can cut through flesh and bone. Perfect weapon to defend myself with in an emergency. "Thanks Boris." I smiled.

He took the vodka bottle from his belt and held it toward me. "Drink?"

I violently wave my hands at that bottle and said, "No. I think I had enough for one day."

"BA HEH HEH!" And he drank the vodka like water.

.

          As we walked through the darkness, we walked down the streets of Los Angeles with our weapons raised. The moon was high in the sky, and Boris gave me his flashlight so I can shine the way as he covers my flanks. Soon I spotted a building. A police station. But it was my police station! I worked there before all this death happened. It was a grand architecture with roman pillars at the front entrance. Now it's just a dirty crumbling building. I turned to Boris.

"Boris. I found a place where we can restock our ammunition."

"Where?"

And I pointed to the police station. "I am a police S.W.A.T. there. There's a weapons room in that building."

"Let's go then! Go comrade! Go!!!" And he pushed me forward.

"Hey! Stop pushing me!"

"I want ammo! If I don't find ammo, I'll have to kill zombies with my breath!!!"

I thought about it. Bullets verses Boris's alcoholic breath. I'd choose bullets.

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          I lead Boris to the entrance of a locked room. There was a 6-digit code built into the room. I punched in the numbers and the door unlocked. It's amazing that it still works after all these years. We walked into the weapons room. It was filled with law enforcement standard issued rifles, pistols, shotguns, submachine guns, and lightmachine guns. GLOCK41 pistols, M4A1 assault rifles, Remington 700 sniper rifles, Remington 870 and Benelli M1014 shotguns, L85 and MK48 lightmachine guns, UMP / MP5 / MP7 submachine guns. Also it held numbers of suspect weapons from gang-related to terrorists weapons.

"So... why are you so paranoid of every wound you see?" I said, remembering him pointing his shotgun at me. "Why were you ready to kill me?"

He went to the counter to observe the gun rack. "People who are wounded by zombies in anyway will become infected. Zombie's whole body is covered by virus. If it get inside your body in anyway, you die slow death." He climbed over the counter and grunted. He found a box of 12 Gauge shotgun shells on a shelf and grabbed it. "Ammo!!! Just what I ordered, hey? Heh heh!"

"The virus? What is the symptoms?"

"Well... high fever, nose bleeds, skin rotting, blood mutation, and many other things. We call it, the Nezhit'. Russian for 'Undead'. Ehh... you get the idea." He looked around and picked up some 9x18mm handgun ammo.

I thought about the consequences of the virus. It sounded really horrible.

           He then went through the weapons in the locker filled with criminal weapons. He went through them like toys in a box. A pistol went flying over my head as I watched him throwing the large pile of guns one by one. I walked away and looked around for weapons of my own.

"What?"

"Is that the gun your looking for?" I pointed to the AK-47.

He smiled. "Oh yes! I have been trying to find this baby everywhere! And to the surprise that America buys our Soviet weapons, I never found an AK-47 anywhere! Thank you comrade! I owe you vodka!"

I shook my head and smiled. "No thanks Boris. I think I'm good with the vodka already." I chuckled.

          He went about to load his new gun and find more ammo for it. "Now where is the 7.5 bullets? Come out where ever you are!" He said. "Boris, are you capitalist or communist?" I asked. He looked at me with an annoyed face. "No... I'm a communist..... Yes I'm a capitalist! But still... I rather prefer communist better. Better economy, and better money." Then he continued his rain on the gunshop. I did too. I tried to find a good gun to use, but nothing. Just the pistol.

"Hey Ridley!"

I looked to Boris and he threw me a sniper rifle. I looked at it. A Remington 700 with power scope sniper rifle. I do not like sniping, especially when I can't get a fair fight with close quarters combat. "Boris... It's a sniper rifle. What am I supposed to do with this, besides shooting it from afar?"

"Hey, snipers may wear diapers... but we get all the ladies HEY?!?! Haha!" He laughed. "Heh heh heh... But still, it's true though. And don't be so picky in a time like this. You need all the weapons you need!"

"Nah... I'll pass on the snipers." I put it to the side.

"Okay, sheesh... fine. Glupyye Amerikantsy ... Takim obrazom na pridirchivyy." He turned away and looked for more.

          Then, I caught my eye on a gun. The P90 submachine. I took it and went around to find some .32mm ammo. I took a bunch of those very thin magazines used for the P90 itself and loaded the rounds into each of them. I had one magazine loaded into the P90 and I carried eight magazines split into two even groups as four on each side of my legs were strapped on. And each of them were carrying a stunning amount of 50 rounds each magazine! I found a strap for a rifle and equipped it to the P90 so I can easily carry it on my back. I took a couple of frag grenades from the storage and placed them in my pocket. But I was missing something... I looked at Boris's knife strapped to his leg. "Hey, Boris."

I strapped on the bowie knife to my left leg. Then, I was ready. "You done Boris?"

"I'm ready to kill more of Satan's Minnions, my friend!" He cocked his new AK-47.

I cocked my P90 also and we went forward so we both can get something to eat.

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          We both ate in the abandoned Subway sandwich restaurant and made the sandwiches ourselves. As the sun set behind the towers of Los Angeles, we laughed as we told each other our funny things in life as we ate sandwich after sandwich. Tomatoes, cheese, beef, pork, chicken, avocados, BBQ sauce, etc. etc. I never ate so much before, but amazingly, Boris ate just one more sandwich than me. I had five while he had six. I felt satisfied and took a SoBe drink from the public fridge and drank it all. Then I took a MUG rootbeer and placed the cold drink in my butt pocket. "AAHHH!!!.... that was satisfying!" Boris sighed. "Where to now Boris?" I asked. "Well, I've been told by a couple of other survivors that they are heading to Cambridge's Outpost. That is where I am heading to rest for few days. You should come too friend!"

"Haha, sure. I'll go."

"Great! We go right now!"

"But where is it?"

"It's somewhere in Bakersfield city. That might take a two day walk there."

Then I looked to the nearest car. "Or... we can drive there!"

"What? Drive?"

.

          "How did you learn this?" Boris asked. As I was rearranging the wires of the car, I said, "Criminals who tried to steal my car." And I smiled and went back to work. As I sparked the wire, the car ignited and purred. "Ok, but why the Toyota? I want Ferrari." Boris said as he looked to the Ferrari of brilliant red behind us. "Because we need gas to get there. And the Toyota Prius is a gas saver." "Da da... ok." So I got on the driver's seat and Boris got on the passenger's. We then started the drive to Bakersfield city ready to be in the welcome arms of the Outpost and to be safe once more.