Tumol Town Terror

Nilly kicked open the door behind her as she pumped out two more rounds wildly into the mob.

Nilly grabbed the keys from her back pocket and jumped inside the car.

She started up the engine as zombies stumbled towards her, heads lolling, moaning horribly.

She hit the auto-lock button on the door as the engine struggled to turn over. It finally roared into life. Nilly threw it into gear and laid on the gas. Tires screeched as she took off, taking a hard right turn around the diner towards the highway.

A few of the zombies made feeble grabs towards the car, though it was well out of their reach.

Nilly drove toward the city for help, crying with big flooding tears.

"Grandpa... grandpa..."

* * *

Help was coming, though not only for Nilly.

Mark sat suited up in the black fighter helicopter. He was on a bench built into the cargo part of the chopper with the other Special Forces members. Fifteen minutes ago, the alarm at HQ had gone off, signaling that the semi with the H chemical experiments had crashed. That could possibly mean that the "zombies" had gotten loose. If they had, every living person had to be evacuated and the area had to be bombed. They could leave no evidence that anyone had ever been there, or that any incident happened.

Mark checked to make sure everything was where it should be. His SPAS-12 shotgun that could hold eight rounds was laid across his lap.

Two STI Eagle 9mm were holstered in shoulder holsters under each arm with ten fifteen-bullet clips in two breast pockets of his bulletproof vest. A long machete-like combat knife was strapped to his right thigh. Hanging from a shoulder strap at his side was an M4A1 Assault Rifle. Eight thirty-bullet magazines were kept in zippered pockets just under the breast pockets.

"Look lively, everybody, we're almost there!"

Mark prayed that there wouldn't be any freed experiments and, if there were, he would live.

The chopper stopped, hovering over a street crawling with zombies.

"Let's go!"

He followed the man in front of him, sliding down the rope into the horde of zombies. Screams and curses and gunshots filled the air. A large bomb was dropped into the center of town, undetonated, untouched by zombies. Every person on the SF team had a detonator. The last one out was supposed to blow the bomb.

As soon as Mark hit the ground, he started pumping off shots in every direction, carelessly firing into the crowd of decaying bodies. Soon, the eight rounds that had previously filled the body of the gun were reduced to seven. Mark pumped the last bullet into the chamber and took a loose aim. Luckily, when he pulled the trigger, a zombie rushed him. Its head was blown clear off it neck, and it dropped into a heap. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one of his team members. The teammate was moving backward away from a continuous stream of zombies.

Mark switched the shotgun in his hands and held it by the barrel like he would a sword. He slowly made his way over to the teammate in distress, violently clubbing the undead as he went.

He met back-to-back with Zack and took one last swing with the shotgun. After pulling the automatic into a hand, Mark let the shotgun hang from its strap across his back. He raised the barrel of the assault rifle and squeezed the trigger. He swung the gun in a wide arc at chest level and the way for faster movement. Zack, the man at Marks back and also one of Mark's best friends, pushed him forward.

"There's an alley coming up on your left!" Mark roared over the spurted gunfire from his automatic. "Once we reach it, move in!"

In a matter of steps, Mark and Zack reached the turning point.

"Run!" Mark yelled, finishing off his magazine into the mob. They turned and bolted down the empty alleyway. Letting the rifle fall to his side, Mark pulled both STI Eagles from their holsters and backpedaled. He fired at the nearest zombies, but soon the rest dropped back to the fallen members of the SF team to feed.