H.R.R. Book 1: The Beginning - Chapter 7

As we stepped outside into the grass and broken glass (my bad), we both tightly held our guns and looked around frantically. Joe was muttering something under his breath, but it was too quiet to hear. We approached the road, near the dead body I mushed, and almost spun three-sixties in place, looking for any sign of life. Or, death. Whatever. Suddenly, and without warning, another howl came. Joe’s hair practically stood up on end, and he quickly turned to the source and raised his gun to fire. I quickly lowered his gun with my free hand, and shook my head. He understood, as if we were communicating telepathically. We couldn’t waste the little ammo we had, and firing blindly into fog wouldn’t help conserve it. We waited, but saw nothing for a few minutes. “Maybe it didn’t see us?” I pondered to myself. Hehe…WRONG!
Another few minutes passed, and quite suddenly, a mob of zombies came flooding through the fog. Joe and I, quickly went back to back, and started firing. Surprisingly, for freaking out only a few minutes ago, Joe was almost calmer now than I was. Each shot we made hit a target, and we were quickly mowing down their advance, our shots almost in unison.
Suddenly, we were both out, and about four remained, but they were a bit backed off, aware we had the power to take them out. I think the one to the most left noticed first that we weren’t firing, and approached. I turned to it, but it just stared down the barrels of my gun, seemingly knowing of my lack of ammunition. So, instead of giving it time to alert the others in whatever way they communicated, I whacked it over the head with the other end of my gun. CRACK! Its skull shattered under my blow. The others reacted, two running at Joe, one at me. I went to hit this one too, but I then noticed I broke the gun over the others head.
“Piece of ****,” I muttered. I decided to drop the gun, seeing as it served no more purpose. It wasn’t my brightest idea, but I decided to fight the zombie, hand to hand. I wasn’t a fast runner, so what other choice did I have? I wildly flung my leg into its head, similar to an amateur round house kick. It didn’t work as effectively as I wished, but it definitely felt that blow. Giving it no time to counter strike, I proceeded to another spin like kick to it’s ankle, which sufficiently toppled it over. You see, back then, I couldn’t throw a punch to save my life, so I constantly found myself kicking and using my legs in fights. I was also usually bigger than the foe, so I kind of grappled them, but I wasn’t getting close to this thing. While it lay on the ground stunned, I walked over and, once again, stomped its head in. However, instead of freaking out like last time, I simply stomped it once, killing it and ran to Joe’s aid.
Joe was in a bit of a pickle. Seeing as it was a two on one, I was surprised Joe was okay. He was wildly swinging his gun, as he saw me do, and was only keeping the two at bay. I quickly ran up, and tackled one from behind, leaving him only one foe. As I quickly leapt up, realizing how close I got to touching its face, I noticed something. This zombie looked familiar. Yes, definitely, I remembered the face. It was my old fried, Jordan Webb, only in zombie form. As Jordan got up, it snarled a bit, and looked me up and down. Than, it straightened up a bit from its attack pose, and backed off. I only stared, knowing I should finish it off, but I didn’t. Jordan was always a good buddy, and I wasn’t go to kill this shadow of him if it wasn’t going to even attack me. Maybe he was recently turned, and retained some memories? Whatever the case, it was gone, and Joe had killed his challenge. A relatively tall zombie, seemingly familiar too. Upon further inspection, I noticed it was my neighbor, Jack Stones, Kevin’s father.
“You alright Joe?” I asked.
“Yeah…he was only a little challenging,” Joe grimaced. “In life though, he was a monster,” Joe commented, and laughed a little. “Yeah, so thanks for saving me and all, but why’d you let that one go?” Joe asked, motioning towards the fog where Jordan retreated.
“It was Jordan,” I answered.
“Webb? Damn…good guy,” Joe commented. Joe was apparently taking it better than I had. He didn’t see how it looked at me and left. He couldn’t understand. “Why’d you let it go?” He asked again.
“He ran, and I decided to help you instead of chase him down,” I half lied.
“Oh,” Joe mumbled.
“Yeah…let’s get going,” I said, and started towards my house.