Killing Corpses (zombie novel)

Chapter Fourteen

Hi guys!
Extra long chapter whoooooo
This one is really exciting because you get to see the next main character yayyyy
Plus in the next chapter, I'm going to be posting a picture of what they all look like so whoop whoop
I hope you apprectiate this by the way guys, this took me about 2weeks to write😂
Let me know what you think in the comments, and enjoy!
H x
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I had gathered enough food to last me and the guys a good week, maybe two. I was pleased with my work as well, no disturbances. It felt good to do it for myself.
Then, I saw him.
He was standing, staring at me from a tall building right in front of me.
It took me a minute to see him, but he was there. The glint of his sunglesses gave it away, catching in my poreferal vision.
My first thought was 'Holy shit, another person!'
Then, it was 'Why would he dare impair his vision when there's reapers. crawling all around the place?!'
Lastly, my attention was drawn to the black coat he had wrapped around him, simply drenched in zombie guts, at least from what I could see. Not nice.
He had his hair tied back and a grimy face, but it was hard to make out any real details from such a distance.

I stood with my bag slung over my shoulder and my hand resting on my rifle again, wary. We stared each other down for a while, and his gaze didn't stray from mine, not once. It was terrifyingly intriguing how he loomed down over me, like a vulture waiting for scraps. It was extremely unnerving.

I almost shouted up to him, then reminded myself of the world I was now living in. Sure as hell, I wasn't going to shout.
Before I could move, he jumped to attention, his face falling, and raised a pointed finger to the buildings behind me, obviously signalling one thing, and one thing only.
I turned around slowly, to see one small Reaper, a little boy, trekking along the streets. He hadn't seen me yet.

He was so close to me, and I could smell him easily. He couldn't have been older than six, but he was almost unrecognisable as a child.
Half his face had rotted off, due to a massive bite mark that had obviously been infected. It was green and yellow, pus and stale blood oozing out of the wound. The injury took over the left side of his face, his left eye socket empty.
His clothes were tattered, his knees were bloody, and his arms were as thin and spindly as needles. One of his legs seemed to have snapped at the knee, and half - trailed on the ground behind him when he tried to walk. His neck was disembowelled somehow, hanging as if it were attached to a hinge. His tongue lolled out of his black mouth, absentmindedly, as the small boy wandered the street, desperate for the taste of flesh. For the taste of something like me.
Now, I've mentioned before, I don't know how to hold a gun, never mind shoot one. So as soon as the little fucker saw me, I panicked.
He caught a glimpse of me, and his eyes locked on to his target. He rasped and groaned, moaning at me to stop moving. As if that was going to happen.
My heart began to race, as I started walking backwards, trying to load the goddamn gun. I remembered how I'd seen my dad do it once. I popped a bullet in and heard a satisfying click emit from somewhere. Blood pulsed in my ears as the boy got closer, and I was vaguely aware of someone shouting "No! No!". But I blocked it out. I convinced myself it was my subconscious trying to tell me not to shoot a gun.
I lifted the rifle to my shoulder, eyes wide in panic, as I aimed as best I could for the child's head. My hands shook as I rested my finger on the trigger, the air around me clouded in the rasps and groans of Reapers.
Before I could register what I was actually doing, I pressed my finger down onto the trigger, and let the shot fire.

I wasn't aware of the knock-back a rifle was capable of.

I got the Reaper, but I also got my shoulder. The gun had fired itself back into my body with the force of the shot, and almost definitely dislocated it.
The pain was indescribable, shooting through my left shoulder and up my neck. I screamed in pain and fell to the floor, dropping my gun and grasping at my shoulder.
The boy lay dead in front of me, black blood oozing out from his head.

But there were more where he came from.

I was slightly blinded my the agony I was in, and could vaguely make out blurry shapes of disembowelled people.
More Reapers.
My adrenaline kicked in, and I shot to my feet, grabbing my gun. I raised it again, but slung it back over my shoulder. I wasn't about to use it again anytime soon.

The figures got closer, and I half heartedly waved the gun around, trying to give me some distance. It wasn't working.
I thought I was going to die there. In a pathetic heap on the floor, a dislocated shoulder and a pool of tears. They were closing in around me, at least ten of them...
Then, he jumped in for the kill.
A black cloak billowed by me, and the glint of a steel pistol gun told me this guy meant business. He strode through the horde, shooting the monsters in the head, killing them instantly. The way he did it made him look like an expert, like he'd done it for years. He was at ease as he did it, shooting a steel bullet into their skull and pulling the gun away again, all in a swift second. He sped up through the process, getting more furious and quick all the time. It was terrifying me. Bang, collapse. Bang, collapse. Bang, collapse.
He was killing those corpses faster than you could swat a fly.
I was still on the ground, still clutching my arm, as I watched him finish the last one off. Then he turned to me.
He was even dirtier up close.
He was tall, lean and obviously sure of himself. He seemed agile, fast, and fearing nothing so far. It was mesmerising how alert he was.
Dirty blonde hair, tied haphazardly back with a greasy, blue bandana. He was tanned, and wore his sunglasses, his face smothered in Reaper guts. His clothes were too, and it was revolting.
In any other case, he might have been good looking, but I couldn't tell since he had a gun pointed in my face.
I actually thought he was going to end my life, there and then. His gun was pointed at my face, in crazy accuracy, and his finger was wavering on the trigger. I was sweating like mad, my heart beating out of my chest, but he drew his gun back. I panted.
He glanced over his shoulder, taking a look at a new horde emerging from a building, hungry. His jaw flexed, and his muscles tensed.
He look down to me. Then, he spoke.
"Come with me if you want to live." He said firmly, lowering his gun, extending a hand to help me up. I heard the rasping and groaning come closer and closer with every breath I took. But I couldn't find it in myself to follow him. He had tried to shoot me five seconds ago, and now he wanted to save me. I wasn't buying it. Although my heart was racing, shoulder throbbing, I shook my head. "Bite me!" I spat at him.
He looked taken aback, he wasn't expecting that.
He looked anxiously back over his shoulder to the growing hoard. "Looks like that can be arranged."