The gun was fired. But John felt nothing. He looked down and saw no blood. He looked up to see smoke coming from the barrel of the gun the man was holding. He heard just a ringing noise. But the gun was no longer pointed at John. John looked up to see Striker, free from his leash, clawing and biting at the man in the hazmat suits. The other two men were attempting to get Striker under control, but looked afraid of him. John could see the men were screaming, but he couldn’t hear the screams. He just heard the ringing in his ears. The men eventually seized control of Striker. He was squirming and growling, but couldn’t get out of their grip. Striker must have messed up the aim of the man, so the bullet didn’t hit John. Another man in a hazmat suit crumpled to the ground just then. John realized the bullet must have hit him. Not John. Without Striker, John would be dead right now. John now just stood there, shocked. What could he do now? Then, William, John’s dad, finally struggled free from the man’s grasp on him, and started running towards the men who had Striker. He tackled the man holding the poor dog, and got in a fistfight with the other two. This was not like John’s dad. John looked behind him and saw that everyone in the quarantine camp was coming over to see what was happening. Ann and Josie looked terrified and unsure what to do. Suddenly, one of the men grabbed John from behind and threw him to the ground. Luckily, John had grabbed his pocketknife when the whole thing was happening. So, with the pocketknife, John swung around and drove it into the man’s chest. The man screamed in pain. Then, he fell to the ground and stopped moving. ‘Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no! I didn’t mean to kill him. Is he dead? Oh my god!’ John thought. There was then a low moaning sound. John spun around to see the man that had been hit with the bullet slowly rise. ‘H…..He wasn’t bit…..how is that possible? John thought. Before he knew it, John was staring at an all out riot.
“Enough!” said a fierce voice. John spun around to see a tall man in a black suit with a gas mask over his face gaping at the riot. His voice was muffled underneath the mask. He kicked his shoe into Striker’s side. As he did so, the poor puppy yelped and was slammed into the ground from the force.
“Hey!” John yelled, sprinting towards the man. “Get away from my dog!” he yelled as he threw his side into the man, knocking him over. The man quickly got up and shoved a thick, black rectangle into John’s side. John screamed in pain and fell to the ground. It was a tazer. As John started to close his eyes, everything happening around him seemed to be in slow motion. The man in the black suit was going around, tazing John’s family as he went. More and more people were turning. Turning from the living into the undead. ‘Man. How many times have I been knocked out since this morning?’ John thought as his eyes finally closed.
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Hey guys! Sorry for the slow update. I know this chapter wasn't the best. I didn't really like it either. But just wait. This story will get better soon! Thanks for your patience.