_ One Man Down

Bullets fly in the air, pinging off the van's rusted metal and burying themselves in the crumbling walls around us. My back slams against the van as I reload, ears ringing from the gunfire.

"Fucking scavengers!" Benji yells over the disarray, ducking behind an overturned dumpster. "Where the hell did they even come from?!"

"Same place we did," I grunt, popping up just long enough to fire off a few shots. 

A figure in ragged clothing jerks back as my bullet finds its target, dropping lifelessly onto the pavement. 

"They're starving, just like us."

"Great!" Kyle snaps from behind the cover. "Maybe we can all starve together in peace!"

"Doesn't seem like they're in a sharing mood!" Hector bellows, ripping off the car door he'd been using as a shield and flinging it toward the nearest shooter. It slams into the man's torso with a crunch, sending him sprawling.

More gunfire flares from the alley ahead. The bastards are spread out, moving between wrecked cars and ruined buildings, trying to box us in.

"Flank left!" I bark at Vic and Dom. "Cut them off before they pin us down!"

The brothers grunt in acknowledgment and slip into the shades, moving fast for guys built like concrete blocks.

 "These guys have no training," Benji mutters between shots. "Just a bunch of starving idiots with guns." 

"Starving idiots with guns still kill," I remind him. 

A scavenger makes a break for better cover, sprinting across open pavement. I raise my pistol and fire. The shot lands in his thigh, dropping him to the ground with a shriek. He claws at the pavement, trying to drag himself behind a wrecked sedan, but Kyle steps forward and finishes him with a clean shot to the head. 

Two down. 

Hector is already on the offensive. He vaults over the van's hood with a burst of speed, grabbing one of the scrawny bastards by the throat. 

The guy doesn't even have time to scream before Hector crushes his windpipe with a sickening pop and tosses his body aside like garbage. 

I don't have time to dwell on it. 

Trish kneels beside me, eyes sharp. "We got a problem." She jerks her chin toward the end of the street.

I follow her gaze—and my mouth drops

The first zombie staggers into view, its hollow eyes on the movement and sound of our little war. Behind it, more figures stagger into the open, their decayed bodies moving with jerky motions.

From the alleyways, from the shattered storefronts, from the abandoned buildings; they come, moving with that eerie, strange shuffle, drawn by the scent of blood, the sound of violence. Dead eyes fixed on us. 

We're about to be caught between two nightmares. 

"Oh, hell," Kyle groans.

"They heard the shots," Trish says seriously.

Of course, they did. Nothing rings the dinner bell for the dead quite like a goddamn firefight.

"Fall back to the van!" I shout. "We finish these guys fast, or we're all screwed!" 

One of the scavengers panics. A woman; tall, ragged, face hollowed by hunger and turns to run. Big mistake. 

The moment she swings around, one of the zombies grabs her from behind. Its rotting fingers sink into her shoulder, yanking her back with a sickening crack as her collarbone snaps. 

She screams, but it's cut short as the thing sinks its teeth into her throat, tearing away her flesh. Blood spurts, painting the pavement in an arc. 

The rest of her crew watches in horror for a second… then utmost chaos unleashes. 

One of them, who is a wiry guy with a homemade machete, bolts. He sprints past us, dodging between wrecked cars, and disappearing down an alleyway. 

"Let him go," I grunt. "He won't last the night." 

"Still code red!" Trish reminded, fingers frantically on her trigger.

 "Benji, grenade!" I call.

Benji grins like a lunatic and lobs a makeshift explosive toward the thickest part of the ambushers' cover.

BOOM.

The explosion shakes the street, sending shrapnel and body parts flying. Two men are instantly torn apart, their blood painting the cracked pavement. 

The shockwave sends a third staggering into the open. Hector puts a bullet between his eyes before he can react.

The remaining scavengers start to panic. Their formation crumbles, their fire turning erratic as they realize they're screwed from both ends; us on one side, the dead on the other.

I take full advantage of their hesitation.

Moving fast, I vault over the hood of a rusted car, close the distance, and drive my knife into the throat of the nearest enemy. He gurgles, blood spraying my face, but I'm already moving, pulling my weapon free and pivoting just in time to block a wild swing from another scavenger.

He's young—too young for this kind of world. His sunken eyes are wide with hunger and fear as he swings a rusty pipe at my head.

I dodge, step in close, and shove my blade up under his ribs. His body goes rigid as a gasp escapes his lips, and I lower him to the ground before he can make a sound.

No time to think about it.

This is the fucking apocalypse!

Gunfire blares behind me. I turn just in time to see a scavenger drop with Kyle standing over him, panting.

Then a gunshot rings out.

Kyle staggers.

I see it before I hear it; the bloom of red spreading across his chest. His breath hitches, his knees wobble… 

"Kyle!" I dash his way, catching him before he hits the ground.

He stares at me, eyes unfocused and lips parted as if he wants to say something. Blood bubbles in his throat instead, splattering all over his chest. 

Vic roars in rage when he sees him, raising his rifle. The scavenger who shot Kyle barely has time to breathe before Vic turns his skull into mist.

But it doesn't change a damn thing.

Kyle's gasping now, his fingers weakly gripping my sleeve. "Shit," he mutters. "This is… this is bad, huh?"

"Shut up," I snap. "You're fine."

He tries to laugh. Coughs blood instead. "Liar."

One thing running through my mind as Kyle knocks on death's door is that; he didn't want to come.

He fucking didn't.