How about some stories to set the mood? I feel like writing the whole evening about the cruddiness of the sleeting that’s happening out there. Anyway, here’s a shot.
They came from below
“KEEP FIRING, THEY GO DOWN IF THEY’RE BATTERED ENOUGH!”, yelled a panicked male voice.
“NO, IT’S THE HEAD. STOP WASTING YOUR AMMUNITION!”, yelled another panicked male voice, slightly younger than the previous.
Two men were cornered in an office, with walking corpses shambling towards them. Determined to get their prize, they moved through the hail of fire the two defenders shot at them, slowly whittling down as the bullets found their mark.
“Where do these #%”#% zombies come from anyway? It’s like the end of the world’s here!", asked the older man, while inserting shell after another into his Benelli.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Rambo. You should save your ammo for more of those things.”, said the younger man, loading up the last of his handgun bullets into a clip, inserting into his Beretta 92FS.
“How’d you know you have to shoot them in the head?”
“Oh, I watch a lot of movies.”
“… Got a name?”
The younger man put the safety on the gun on and holstered the gun between his jeans and his belt. “John Woodgrouse.”, he offered his right hand.
The older man shouldered the shotgun and shaked hands. “John, eh? I’m Nicholas Lindstrom. Nice to know you.”
Nicholas grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket, flipped it over, looked at the empty pack with slight distaste and flung it over his shoulder. “What a day to quit smoking.”, commented the man with a very low tone.
“Speak for yourself, “Nick”, I’m having one of the biggest “#%”#% hangovers ever. You shoulda heard the noise when I wake up next to one of those “#”%”#% chewing out the broad I picked yesterday- And figures my brain didn’t work properly when I thought my own workplace might could be a place of safety, since the cops had the place fenced up.", John complained, while rummaging the desks in the work room for aspirin.
“Feh, a few donut-guzzling officers couldn’t keep those things occupied for long. And what’s with parties in the middle of the we? Up there, we actually have to do some work instead of drinking out braincells out. That plan of yours might’ve worked, if people didn’t bring their half-dead families with them.”, Nick replied.
John discovers pillbox full of aspirin. “Ha, I knew these guys had this stuff stashed away now that the big project makes 'em work all-nighters with no sleep!” He then proceeds to pass a pack of cigarettes from the same desk towards Nicholas. “Here. Should work for the worst shakes?”
“Nah, I quit.” Nick then smiles and passes the pack to a trash can.
“Oh really?”, asks John with a very interested-sounding tone.
“Nothing like life or death when a smoker’s cough strikes with those things around.”, Nick announces with a hint of worry. “We should check the building around for others, and maybe fortify the place up a bit. We might be spending some time in here after all.”
“Hmm, you have a pretty good arm with that shotgun, even if you didn’t shoot 'em in the noggin. Ex-force?”, John asked.
“Nah, pa was one of those gun-crazy lunatics who’d take me out to the woods to down a buck, duck or both while he was hitting the sauce himself.”
“Gotcha. I was in the military for a year. MP training pretty much made me sleep with my handgun.”, John smiled wryly while spinning the gun around his finger. “I did get out of there three months ago, so I still know how to fire one accurately.”
“Good for us.”, Nick replied. “Only as long as my clip holds out. I have 15. You?” “8. With 4 of them loaded.”
John surveyed the room and finally, proceeded to flip a table over and started to kick the legs. Nick stared as the man swore out. “What are you…?” Two of the legs gave out and broke off the rest of the table. “Baseball?”, John offered the other leg. “Remember, use this as a last resort. You’ve seen what happened to those cops trying to whack them with their batons.”, John warned and exited the office to a hallway.
The hallway was littered with bodies produced by the gunfire of the wtwo men, and half-eaten office staff. Nick felt something move in his stomach. “You know, when I wished something bad would happen to some of these jerks in my workplace, I really didn’t mean it like THIS…”, Nick commented while staring at a male body with its eyes still open. Nick started to lower his hands to close the man’s eye lids, but John slapped his wrist. “tsk no trusting anyone who has one of those,” pointing at the bite marks all over the man’s torso.
As they proceeded down the hallway, they heard moaning from two intersections. “Oh #¤#¤&”, swore John and dragged Nick with him towards the fire escape stairs, only to turn back as two reanimated firemen shambled from upstairs, and downstairs. Nicholas grabbed an aluminum tube, presumably a previous broomshaft and blocked the door. “No way out! We have to get back to the office!”, John shouted. Nicholas raised his shotgun and emptied a round on the corridor to their left, dropping three of the walking corpses down, only to have four step on the three. “HEAD, I KNOW.”, Nick said before John could even comment.
John looked around, and noticed a mail cart just sitting there. Grabbing the front of the mail cart, he failed to notice the pair of hands still attached to them, dragging whatever was still holding them in his adrenaline rush. The person got up from his prone position and started to shamble towards the man trying to push back the restless dead with the cart. “JOHN!”, Nick turned, and fired his shotgun at the offending stiff, hitting the mailperson square in the head. “Whew!”, John commended and proceeded to ram the cart into the corridor, toppling several creeps over, and getting some potshots in, dropping five of them. The rest started to get up once again.
“John, office, now!”, Nick said while pulling John’s shoulder. Both fell back with their backs on the walls, firing several accurate shots while making sure no ambushes would occur.
Both retreated back to the office they had first been introduced in, and shut the door, with John pushing a couch in front of it to block entry.
“Damn. Out of ammo, John. You?”, Nick asked while tossing his shotgun on the couch.
John checked his clip. “Two. That’s one for you and one for me.”
Nick laughed: “Not today.” and checked the office out. “Two tanks of Evian. And a snack machine. Guess have some to kill some time in here. Speaking of which…”, Nick started surveying the floor, and spotted his prize.
“Not today indeed,” Nick laughed and picked up the pack of cigarettes he had tossed beside a desk. Grabbing the pack, he felt something grab HIS hand and a sharp stinging sensation was felt. His hand what was left of the meaty part, had big red bite mark on it.
John fired his gun at the responsible party lying prone behind the desk, dropping it cold. “Not today, huh?”, John commented in a very cold tone, pushed the gun on Nicholas’ temple and fired the gun before the man had a chance to say anything.
Wiping the blood and brains off his gun, Nick then took the box of pills from his pocket, flipped the cap open and downed one of them. “Guess it really does kill.”, John thought to himself while the blistering pain on his temples refused to give up. This would be a long, hard hangover to sit out.