Zombie Hour (sequel to zombie game)

chapter 29

29

Joe turned around for moment, looking at where the gunfire was coming from, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Zombies were lumbering forward, moaning, having come from the cages that they had been taken to. Tom fired his pistol, killing three of the zombies. Joe turned his attention back toward George and slammed into him with all his might, sending him flying into the metal railing. He slammed his fist into George's stomach, causing him to scream.

More gunshots filled the air, as well as the sounds of popping as zombies heads popped like popcorn kernels. Joe took out his knife and placed it upon George's throat, but George kicked it out of his hands. Joe was flung backward, sliding against the floor. He stopped right next to his knife. He grabbed it with both his hands and stabbed forward, taking George in the kneecap with the blade, blood pouring onto his hands. George screamed and Joe jumped up from where he was lying, advancing toward the limp and bleeding figure. But before Joe could get close enough to kill George, he kicked out his good foot, swiping it under Joe, sending him falling, and George got right back up, smiling a bit, blood pumping from his leg, and he limped forward, brandishing a sword he had stolen from a bullet riddled corpse.

George swung the blade downward, nearly hitting Joe, but Joe raised his knife, deflecting the sword blow, watching as the blades bounced off each other in flurry's of sparks. Joe kicked out both his feet, taking George in his good leg, sending him toppling to the ground. Joe jumped up from where he had been lying and jabbed the knife forward, cutting George in the arm. He watched as the blood began to flow. Joe leaped back as George lashed out his foot.

Joe winced as he was hit in the shin with a foot.

He swung the knife forward, trying to stab George, to kill him, but the man who had been with George jumped at Joe, tackling him, sending him flying through the air, slamming into the opposite wall, the blade having bounced off the wall with a volley of sparks and slid across the metal floor. Joe recovered quickly from that blow, and looked around for the knife.

“Looking for this,” sneered the man. Joe whipped around and saw the man, the bloody blade of Joe's knife in his hand. He swung it forward, expecting to make contact. He was good with a knife. He almost never missed. But Joe was quicker than he seemed. He twisted around the opposite way, the knife going to the side of him, narrowly missing him, and he jumped up, flipping around in the air, kicking the man in the face. His nose exploded. Blood poured down the hole in his face. The man fell back and Joe rushed him, just about ready to end his miserable life, when George came up from behind Joe, grabbing him, crushing his chest, and throwing him across the room, causing him to slam—again—into a metal wall. He winced as he heard a crack, hoping it wasn't his back.

Tom was holding his own. He was blowing the shit out of zombies, blood washing over everything like a river, bodies piling up like a battlefield. He raced into a group of confused zombies and plowed into them, swiping his blade across them, cutting them down without any sort of hesitation...hesitating was weak. He had learned before joining the resistance. He had had a father who was in the army, and he had specifically told Tom that hesitation was weak, that if you hesitated you would die. But Tom hadn't believed he would use that bit of advice.

Until now.

He put his pistol into the mouth of a zombie and pulled the trigger, the zombie's head exploding in a mixture of blood and brain. He slit a zombie's throat, and stabbed another in the chest. He jumped up, grabbing another by both sides of its head, and turned it to the right at a 90 degree angle, snapping it's neck with a wet crack. He dove into three more zombies, throwing them backward, causing more and more blood to fly. He pulled his pistol. Tom jumped around, dancing through the zombies, hacking them up, but it seemed that they wouldn't stop coming.

Joe kicked his foot out, kicking them in the chest, causing him to fly backward, hitting the wall...George tackled Joe, causing him to slide across the metal floor. Joe swung his foot around, taking George in the face, causing blood to spill upon the floor. Joe scrambled up and took out his blade, swinging it in a wide arc, trying to kill George, but George grabbed the blade and screamed as his hand ran across it, the warm blood trickling down his hand. He swung his foot forward, swiping Joe's feet out from under him, sending him sprawling to the floor. Joe hit his head on the floor and slowly stood up—or tried to—but his head felt heavy. He was beginning to grow dizzy. His eyes were fluttering open and closed and his skin was beginning to pale.

He fell back to the floor. He was moving around, slowly convulsing on the ground. Small drops of blood started dripping out of his mouth. That wasn't good.

George stood there, panting, blood running down his face. And then he began to laugh evilly, looking down at the limp and helpless figure. George kicked Joe in the face. He whimpered as he lie there, seemingly alone, helpless. No one would help him. He would soon die. He knew it. Joe's vision was beginning to grow black. Blood dripped in his eyes, masking his vision.

George took out his pistol and placed it to Joe's head. The end was near the end was coming it—Tom whipped around fired his gun. George was unprepared. He screamed as he was hit in the arm.

Blood poured from the wound.

He pressed his hand against the bloody arm, trying to compress the blood. The man pivoted around and fired his pistol. Tom dived to cover. The bullets meant for Tom hit two of the zombies, sending them flying through the air. Tom whirled around and fired his pistol, shooting the man right through the stomach, the skin disintegrating into a mix of blood and guts and gore. The man flew back, a gaping, bloody hole deep into his chest.

Joe was on the ground.

The zombies were beginning to get closer. Closer.

Everything seemed like it was in slow motion—

Until something happened in a huge blur.

A sudden explosion. The renewed sounds of gunfire and screams. The fighting continued as Joe lie there, uncertain.