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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Action/Adventure · #1490681
Retired Soldiers from a secret organization have to relive past horrors
Chapter Three

“Well, well, well.” I said. “Who’s crazy now?”
“John, what the hell do we do?”
The room was empty except for a bed, a tray with a glass of water sitting there, and the doctors cowering in the corner. The banging at the door was irritating but not distracting.
“Remember, I’m a nut case.” I said smugly. “Zombies aren’t real.”
“Cut the bull john, we believe you now.” A doctor by the name of Robert said.
Alright first of all we needed weapons. Thanks to my escape attempts, I looked at the tray with the glass of water sitting there, those were limited.
“Anyone one have a knife?” I asked.
The doctors looked at each other.
“I got a scalpel?” A doctor said.
I sighed. “That will do.”
“Keep that with you.” I told the doctor as I picked up the glass of water and walked up to the door. The doctors watched me with puzzled looks.
“Shut the door when I say.” I ordered Robert.
He nodded and stood by the door. I put one hand on the door and held the glass in a striking position.
The zombies screamed and attacked as I opened the door. The doctors cowered further in the corner as I smashed the first one in the skull with the glass splashing water everywhere. I pulled it into the room.
“Shut the door!” I shouted.
Robert slammed the door. I threw the zombie to the ground. It looked angry but I didn’t care. It rushed at me, I strafed to the left and grabbed its throat and broke its neck.
The dead body lay on the floor. “Alright who’s not afraid of blood?”
All the doctors stepped backwards except the one with the scalpel. He looked behind him and cursed.
“Cut the arm off.” I told him.
“What?”
“You asked for a zombie expert now follow my orders.”
“Alright.” He said confused.
“Does anyone have a van or a truck big enough for nine people?” I asked.
“I got a pickup truck.” One of the doctors said.
The doctor had halfway cut through the skin of the zombies arm. “John, I can’t get through the bone.” He said.
I walked up to the zombie, kicked the arm and broke the bone. I took the knife from the doctor and quickly cut through the rest of the skin, and finally pulled off the arm.
One the doctors threw up after seeing this. “Aww man.” Some of the other doctors complained.
“I don’t blame ya” I said. “I was eight when I first did this.”
I pulled the skin off and began to sharpen the end of the bone. I saved the skin in a pile and began to cut off the other arm. The zombies outside were still doggedly throwing themselves against the door.
I removed the second arm and sharpened that one two. After I finished, I handed both of the sharpened bones to two of the doctors.
“Don’t throw up yet.” I told them. “The disgusting part hasn’t happened yet.
I opened the chest of the zombie with the scalpel and began pull out the organs. Then I pulled apart the bones off the rib cage. Blood smothered my hands and the room reeked with the smell of death. I finished taking out the rib cage and began to take the bones out of the legs and sharpened them. I broke the knee caps and handed the four sharpened bones to four more of the doctors.
I took one of the rib bones and sharpened it, then walked back up to the door.
“The door.” I said as Robert stepped to the door again.
Robert opened the door. The infected tried to get in but I quickly stabbed the closest one with the rib bone and pulled him in. Robert closed the door.
I repeated the process and sharpened the arm bones then handed them to the doctors who still didn’t have weapons. Cut out the leg bones. I broke the knee caps so that I had four bones then I used the scalpel to cut the skin into string. I strung the bones together with the skin string. After about twenty minutes, I had a crossbow.
The doctors noticed. “Why do you get the crossbow?” They complained.
“Because, it falls apart easily.” I explained. “I can handle myself without a weapon, you, I’m not sure.”
The knob on the door began to jingle.
The doctors all stared at the door as it opened. Robert rushed to slam it before they got in.
“Well that’s new.” I said. I looked at the doctors. “That’s never happened before.”
The doctors all gathered against the door to as the zombies tried to break in.
I continued to work, quickly sharpening the rib bones for arrows. After ten minutes. The crossbow and ten arrows were ready.
“Let’s go.” I said. “Where’s the truck?”
“In the parking lot?” The doctor said.
“Right.”
He opened the door and three of the zombies rushed in. One of the doctors stabbed one in the head as I broke the first ones neck throwing him back into the hallway then stabbed the other zombie with the rib bone.
I looked into the hallway; it was empty except for a ham sandwich with lasso around it. The stupid creatures had set a trap, not good but it was still a trap.
“You’re kidding right.” I heard a doctor mutter.
I ordered the doctors to move down the hallway. I kept my crossbow up scanning the room ahead. A door opened and a figure jumped out of the closet.
“I ain’t afraid of you! You damn zombies!”
It was the janitor. Holding a broom and a bottle of beer. I peered into the closet, ten dead zombies lay there. Damn, this guy was good. For a civilian.
“Nice work.” I said.
“Thanks can I come with you?” He asked.
A zombie came up behind him then moved in to bite. The janitor turned around kicked the zombie in the nuts and started hitting him with the broom.
“Think you can sneak up me!?!” The janitor shouted. “I whoop ya ass boy.”
He literally beat the zombie to death. “Okay.” He said. “Let’s go” he walked down the hall and into an office.
The doctors seemed amused by this guy. Me too.
We went into the office that was next to the entrance and hid by a desk.
“That’s my truck.” The doctor said. “Right across the street there.”
“Okay you guys get to the truck.” The janitor said. “I’ll distract them.”
Before I could tell him not to, he jumped up, ran out the building, shouted. “Over here you damn zombies!” And took off down the street. About a hundred of the infected chased after him.
“I hope that guy survives.” Said a doctor. “He’s hilarious.”
“Okay let’s go.”
We went outside and went through the parking lot. Growling came from our left. Three dogs charged at us.
“Oh shit!” Robert yelled. “Run!”
The dogs came up behind the first doctor and jumped him.
He screamed.
The rest of the doctors got to the truck. The doctor who owned the truck unlocked the doors and they got in.
“Where’s Steve and Bob?” Robert asked.
The two doctors ran up to the truck and got in.
“Thanks Bob.” Steve said.
After everyone was in the truck, I got in the back.
The doctor drove in the direction the janitor ran.
“Where are you going?” Steve asked.
“To help the janitor.” Said the doctor.
“Hurry then.”
We drove for five minutes and caught up with the horde that chased the janitor. We smashed through the hordes only to find the janitor stumbling toward us. Blood soaked and his eyes empty. He growled little but didn’t chase us. We looked on as we passed him.
“Let’s get out of here.” I told him.
We drove through the streets as we made our way to the highway. The zombies seemed smart enough to know they couldn’t catch the truck.
We drove for ten minutes when a doctor asked “where are we going?”
“Avondale.” I told him.
“Why?”
“To pick up people just like me” I said.
The road in front had four zombies, two on each side, standing there with knifes but the fourth one had a remote.
I looked closely at the fourth one then at a milk carton in the road.
“Oh, hell no!” I shouted. “Turn around! Turn around!”
Too late. The doctor was slow to react and the carton exploded, blowing away the truck sending it crashing into the side of the road. I was thrown out as the truck hit a ditch and rolled a few feet away.
Damn, they got smarter. I thought.
I got my crossbow and looked forward. I got ready to fight. The zombies ran away. I lowered my gun and went to check on the doctors. The truck was on fire and blood spattered the windows.
The truck had blown up, no one could survive that.
They were dead. I sighed and continued to walk toward Avondale. This would be a long walk.
© Copyright 2008 Emvalle (e.m.j.v at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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