Zombie Hour (sequel to zombie game)

Chapter 2

2.

The arrow streaked across the sky and buried itself in the lead zombie's eye. The arrow went through it's head, and exited out the back, blood splattering from the back of its head, mixed with brains. He fired another arrow and took a zombie in the chest. It fell back, but other than that it was unscathed by the blow. Joe whipped around and ran, running back to camp, the zombies on his tail. He pulled out his .45 and once he turned around and saw a zombie in view, running, moaning, grunting, hungry, he pulled the trigger, and the zombies head was blown off, blood and brains and pieces of skull flying. He saw more zombies, almost enough to clog the forest. Joe pulled the trigger and killed even more zombies. Five walker bodies were trampled by more of the advancing zombies. Joe pivoted around and continued pounding down the forest, running as fast as he could, looking for camp, hoping that he would find the camp because he couldn't take down all these zombies at once.

He emptied his clip int a zombie, but he didn't have enough time to fish around and put a clip in. He threw the pistol to the side and unslung his rifle. He checked the bullets quickly. There were four. He pulled back the hammer, turned around, made careful aim, and fired, the bullet streaking across the sky, slamming into two zombies. They disappeared in sprays of pink.

He had to have run a couple miles now. He was tired; sweat trickled down his face and soaked his clothing and cold chills ran through him. He pulled the trigger. The crack was loud; loud enough that anyone could hear it from miles and miles away. A zombie's head exploded. Joe turned around and saw the tents. Yes! He thought. He continued to run, raising his legs very high and very fast. Behind him, the sounds of moans were ever present in the thick tangles of trees, zombies that were hungry, that were advancing, and that would kill if given the chance. He approached the tent and pulled the flap and saw Tom sitting there. His shirt was ripped and torn, his leg wrapped in a bloodstained bandage, his face smeared with tears.

“You need to get the fuck out here now!!” screamed Joe. “I was followed by zombies.” And to answer that, the sounds of moans slowly made their way up to the tent on a thin current of wind.

“Shit!” shouted Tom. He grabbed his AK-47, inserted a clip, pulled the hammer back, and aimed through the tent hole. Once he saw several zombies come into the clearing, he pulled the trigger, the staccato burst of gunfire loud. The bullets mowed down the zombies, blood splashing the ground around them.

“Where is Linda?” asked Joe.

“I don't know,” replied Tom.

“What do you mean you don't...” Joe heard a sudden screaming and he pulled himself up from the floor of the tent and hurriedly pulled back the flap, aiming his rifle, thinking something had happened with Linda. But she had whipped out her knives. She kicked her foot out, kicking a zombie in the face, watching it fall, and she jumped up, grabbed the zombie by both sides of its head, and wrung its neck around. It's neck broke in a wet snap and it stopped moving. She stabbed her knives forward, stabbing a zombie in the side of the head, taking one in the throat by her foot, crushing it's windpipe, and stabbing one in the chest in one fluid and swift motion. Blood was everywhere. And the zombies just kept coming,

Joe fired his rifle, bullets slamming into the zombies. Tom pulled his trigger, more zombies being mowed down by automatic weapons fire. Linda slit three zombie throat and stabbed all three of them in the head, killing them. Joe fired again and again but the zombies just kept replenishing themselves. He heard more moans. He pulled his trigger on the rifle and the bullet slammed into a zombie's head, popping it. He raced toward the clearing where the zombies were and he slammed the butt of his rifle into the head of a zombie, driving it back, and hit a zombie in the chest so hard with the butt of the rifle, the blow sent the zombie reeling backward, having crushed it's chest completely.

“What the hell are we gonna do?” asked Linda.

“We need to fight until he kill all these bastards,” said Joe. He hit several more zombies and pulled the trigger some more, blood painting the trees like paint being brushed against a canvas. He checked his bullets. One left. He hit another zombie and heard a wet snap as it's neck snapped. It had fallen against a tree.

Linda jumped and drove herself into a zombie, grabbing it's neck, and wringing it all the way around, snapping the bones in the neck. It fell limp in her hands. She kicked her feet out and sent the zombie toppling to the ground, whereupon she stabbed the knife down, digging deep into the flesh of the zombie. Linda cut a zombies head off and kicked another zombie in the chest. It's chest caved it and it was killed.

Joe hit a zombie in the chest, causing half it's face to explode, blood splattering Joe's face. He used his rifle as a club. He stuck the barrel of the rifle against a zombie's head and pulled the trigger, the final bullet sending the head exploding. He jumped back as another mass of zombies lumbered forward, these ones a lot slower, tripping over themselves, moaning, brainless things with no control over themselves. Joe swung the rifle like a club, taking one of the moaning things in the chest, crushing it, driving it back and sending it falling. He swiped it again and another zombie fell to the ground.

But these zombies that had been hit just got right back up, arms outstretched, continuing to moan. Joe grabbed an arrow from the quiver and stabbed a zombie in the throat, causing it to gurgle blood before falling down dead. More zombies were blocking the clearing. There was a sudden staccato burst of gunfire coming from the tent. Three of the zombies fell in sprays of blood.

Linda was covered in blood. She stabbed a zombie in the side of the head, and kicked another one in the chest, crushing it's ribcage. She twirled around as if she were dancing and slashed the throat of a zombie, blood spilling from it. She charged forward into the mass of zombies and slashed the knife to the right, lopping the heads off five zombies that were coming forward. She heard more gunfire coming from the tent and she whipped around and saw Tom crouching on the floor of the tent, the AK-47 on the ground, firing madly at the advancing zombies. More bullets tore through the zombies. Blood splashed from the zombies as they fell. But more came. More seemed to be coming from the hill, an endless barrage of the moaning, brainless, undead.