I don’t really want to waste additional ammo as this may be all that I have…for like ever…but I really don’t see much of a choice. The area is absolutely still except for the moaning coming from the shuffling figures as I line up my first shot. I’m ready to run for the woods if any runners appear from the group. A puff of smoke from my barrel and my shot is on the way. One of the creatures disappears in a thick, dark mist, dropping out of my line of sight. Lining quickly up on another, I send out another speeding projectile. It impacts with the side of its head just before it lurches behind a pickup truck. It too drops out of sight. The groaning from the group is loud, echoing off the trees and metal skins of the vehicles. Dropping a third, a fourth comes into clear view. I line up my next shot when I hear the distinct sound of metal crunching behind me. And I mean right behind me.
Turning quickly, I see a figure vaulting directly at me in the air. Time slows, freezing this particular moment. The runner is leaping with outstretched arms and mouth open in a silent scream. The ash gray skin of its face has several bloodless cuts across both cheeks and its milky, cloudy eyes are locked onto me. Its tattered and torn red plaid shirt, hanging loosely over darkly stained jeans, billows with its leap. My heart explodes into action with the sight, sending a surge of fear-filled adrenaline through my body.
Reaction takes over. I sweep my M-4 around and step to the side. Using the momentum of my turn, I catch the diving figure under the arms with my carbine in mid leap. Continuing my turn, I slam it heavily into an adjacent car with a solid thump. The creature begins to slump to the ground while trying to get up at the same time. Reversing my weapon, I fire a single shot into its head, splattering the front wheel and fender with dark liquid and dead tissue. My mind’s eye reminds me of what I saw during the brief glimpse to my rear. Other runners are close by.
I also notice the remaining shamblers have become aware of me and are slowly making their way in my direction. Another crunch of metal lets me know my next visitor is right behind me. I duck and turn not knowing what to expect, but when I heard that same sound a moment ago, a runner was already in the air behind me. I’m not disappointed as yet another one is leaping off a hood toward me. My quick bend down causes its aim to be too high, sending it almost over me. I rise quickly as it passes overhead, catching it in its legs. It somersaults over and lands heavily on the hood of the car on its back. It’s then that the screams of the runners begin to punctuate the air.
Looking around, other runners are making their way around the vehicles, and another is about to vault onto the hood, following its compadre. I’m in a death trap between these cars. There aren’t many of them, but I’m at a distinct disadvantage in my current location. I need room to act instead of react. I hear the one that just slammed onto the hood just behind me scrambling to rise. It’s time to move.
The stench of the dead is almost overpowering and comes close to making me hesitate. I move toward the trunk of the car that has absorbed two runner bodies so far, aiming to get onto the roof to gain a little leverage. If my red cape was a little brighter and not so tattered, I’d just leap onto it but, alas, the days of performing major feats like that are long gone. A runner rounds the bumper of the car next to my intended destination, cutting me off. I raise my M-4.
An old master sergeant taught me a little trick of using my middle finger as the trigger finger and aligning my pointer finger with the barrel. The pointer finger will track with the eyes better and, if aligned with the barrel, will provide a better aim when firing in a reactionary manner — where your eyes are focused, your barrel will be pointing. It’s also easier to eject the mag. You just have to be careful that your finger isn’t resting on the slide or over the ejection port– self-explanatory.
I pump two quick rounds into it. The first hits its throat, spraying the viscous matter outward. The second hits on the upper front teeth and continues unimpeded into the upper palate, smashing into the lower skull. The force of the impact causes the back of its head to explode outward, sending chunks of dead flesh onto the vehicles, pavement, and the scattered debris. It falls forward onto its face almost at my feet. I leap over the fallen figure, hearing the runners closing in from the side and behind.
Climbing onto the trunk, my feet slip on an oily residue covering it. Barely keeping my balance, I see the runner that slammed onto the hood has gained its feet and is coming across the roof, eager to get me in its grasp. Rather than attempt to recover from my slip, I go with the momentum and sink to my knees. It’s the quicker solution and time isn’t something I have a lot of at the moment.
I raise my carbine. I feel the shock of my old knees as they hit the hard metal. It’s not the most graceful maneuver, but it’s the only thing I have. Flipping the selector switch to auto, I fire a burst into its head. It spins from the multiple forceful blows and falls from the roof to the pavement below. There’s no time to admire its ballerina precision, which is much more graceful than mine. I gain my feet, not having time to make for the roof as another runner is climbing onto the hood ahead. Two others are in the gap where I just was and closing quickly — only feet away. This will have to do…like I have a choice.
I put a quick burst into the top of the nearest one’s head. It drops to its knees before falling forward onto its previous companion — both of them now dead for the second time. Time slows again. The two remaining are equal distances apart. I won’t be able to take both out before one or the other is upon me. The one on the ground is the easier shot, but the one now coming over the roof is the biggest threat.
I decide to fire a burst at the one at my feet, putting it down for good. In my peripheral, I see the one on the roof leap. I don’t have time to turn or perform any other neat tricks. Without thinking, I dive into the air sideways toward what I hope is the hood of a car right behind. Turning slightly while in the air, I see the vaulting runner almost upon me. We are both sailing slowly through the air. It has its arms stretched out and lips peeled back, revealing darkly stained teeth. Its open mouth is emitting a shrill, piercing scream. That, and its close proximity, rocks my brain. I blind fire and am rewarded with the sight of bullets striking its face, which vanishes momentarily behind a splash of viscous liquid. That good news is over quickly as I meet the terminus of my dive. I slam into a car’s hood on my back, my head thudding hard into the windshield.
The collision stuns me immediately, sending a blinding white flash through my head. I feel another heavy object land on me and barely have the presence of mind to push it off to the side. My brain is screaming to become more alert as I know deep down that I’m still in trouble, but I’m have a hard time responding. I don’t really know who I am, let alone why the red alert is going off in my head. Slowly, and it seems like an eternity, consciousness returns. The ability to think in simple terms returns. My mind is screaming that danger is close and the signal finally reaches my shattered consciousness.
I raise my head off the starred windshield to see the remaining zombie-like creatures closing in. The pain from rising isn’t the most pleasant, but the sight of the stinking creatures takes priority. I roll to my side, away from the runner lying next to me. Forcing myself up through a now throbbing headache, I steady my carbine on the nearest zombie, thankful that there aren’t any more runners about. Steady is a very relative world as my barrel is creating arcs through the air. My full consciousness returns but that doesn’t help my aim one whit. I squeeze the trigger and am surprised by the multiple recoils spraying bullets everywhere.