Chapter 8
His men had strategically spread themselves out in front of the house's entrance, Enrie among them and the two girls protectively encircled by the seven armored men. "Men! Single shots, one hit one kill. Conserve ammo!", with the men clicking their assault weapons in semi-auto. "Gonzalez stick with the ladies! The rest of you hold formation Alpha! Boys I want no one left behind so let's do this ******** right!"
They all waited for what seemed to be forever, the blood-curdling hungry screams now getting closer, the sound of thundering footsteps of the flesh-craving mob growing louder by the second. The waiting is what made it worse for the little band of warriors, the men even almost seemingly relieved when finally an Infected was spotted from the distance.
It was a man, a rich dickhead as Enrie and his crew would probably have said, who ran through the intersection that was just less than 100 feet away from where the house was. The Infected man stopped in his tracks in the middle of where the streets crossed each other, took a few whiffs of the air and then whipped his head towards the direction of the waiting 23rd Division. It let out a hungry scream, its voice broken and damaged coming from a throat that has probably had it's share of human flesh throughout its whole Infected life. The monster could have passed off as just a normal guy with a bad case of the sore eyes but what gave him off was that when he turned towards the crew and started going after them. His tattered dress shirt fluttered as he ran just enough to show that he had a gaping hole for a stomach, his belly empty of the various organs that should be there. He should have been dead...but this thing very much alive as it ran as fast as it can blindingly into the sights of Enrie, who took the first shot.
BANG!
The report of his 'Buster' rifle was deafening, the sound very solid. The top of the Infected's head immediately vanished in a spray of blood and tufts of dark brown hair, its body crumpling to the ground with only the thing's lower jaw left attached to its neck. Enrie secretly smiled at what he just did, very satisfied at how good his aim was for such a large rifle.
I still got it....
"ALRIGHT BOYS HERE THEY COME!", Enrie shouted through the intercom, his rifle already trained at the other Infected who had heard the sound of gunfire pouring in from the direction the zombie of a businessman came from. Flashes of gunfire and the stench of gunpowder permeated the morning air as Enrie and his 23rd Division dropped bodies one after another with each shot, wittling down the large mob of flesh-eaters into minced meat. There was silence after the last of the Infected folded to the ground, there were a few crawlers here and there but as far as Enrie can tell (and his GPS is telling him) that the fight was over. Yet he knew all that ruckus their guns have started will definitely bring more of those things. They are dumb, but not dumb enough not to know the sounds of gunfire mean people are walking around their territory.
"Men move out! Morales, Liotta take point! I need an Eagle Eye behind me and a Berserker with our ladies! NOW MOVE!!", Enrie hollered, breaking the eerie silence that followed the fight. His men sprung into action as soon as they heard their boss' voice through their earpieces, two of the men quickly rushing forward a few yards away from the group while another two lagged behind. One of them, a very burly man with broad shoulders and thickly muscled arms protuding from a very used Kevlar armor was attached himself to Quinn and the distraught woman. Another, a quiet man with a very large and mean looking rifle walked a few steps behind the whole group, silently looking around with his mechanical goggles on, probably scouting for more hostiles. The group now tried to retrace their steps, briskly walking for most of the trip to compensate for the wasted time fighting the horde that attacked them. All were silent as they paced back to the City, with the walls already within their eye's view.
