my first zombie story i wrote-dated sometime in winter-2008 prt. 2

OUR LAST STAND
CHAPTER SIX
Sam, Joe, and Lisa looked down at the weapons Murdoc had left them. Gone. Mike Murdoc, Badass of the year, was gone. Joe solemnly looked down at his feet, and picked up his Kar98. Shit, Murdoc had even left the holsters for the weapons that were his departing gifts. Lisa and Sam sat in a corner, the stench of the rotting zombies seemingly not affecting them. Joe was the first one to speak.
"We should move on. before the zombies come back."
"No. We are waiting for Mike." interjected Sam, who was looking at the broken window with distaste. "We should wait." he murmured.
"Mike is dead." muttered Joe, who was trying not to show any emotion. he himself had seen his best friends get their heads blown off in Iraq. "We should go and look for Meh and Jill. they can't be far. yesterday, i found a trail of blood and some dead zombies."
"Ok. lets go." said Sam. Lisa looked up, and stood.
"Joe. go get the Dogs. I need to talk to Sam..." Joe obeyed, and sauntered away. when he came back, Sam was ghostly white. Lisa was sitting back in the corner. Joe ignored this, and kicked open the door. The small group made their way down the street. As Joe passed a body, he glimpsed a pair of Aviator sunglasses lying on the ground. he bent over, and picked them up.
"Farewell, soldier." he murmured, and put the glasses on his face.
Joe looked over the fence, cautiously creeping behind the garage. He had his Savage 77E out, and was in the front of the group. Lisa grabbed on to Sam, who was holding the Five-seveN like it was a lifeline. Joe looked around a corner, and found a red dot. It looked like a…laser? All of a sudden, more lasers surrounded them. Joe looked up, and around him, in all of the buildings, were a bunch of army guys. The army guys looked tired. They had dark circles under their eyes, and their faces looked grim.
“Uh…hi…” said Joe, putting his gun on the ground. Before he could talk, a familiar voice rang out. Standing in front of him, was Mike Murdoc and a guy in an army uniform. The guy was holding a Remington 870 shotgun, and had a colt 1911 slung across his back. The man looked at the three survivors, and then gave the charge to Murdoc.
“It’s your call. You are Commander of the survivors.” The man said. Murdoc laughed, and shook hands with Joe, who was laughing, and celebrating.
“We can keep them here.” He said. “This guy here,” he said, pointing to Joe, “Is my second in command.” With that, Murdoc handed Joe a British SMLE rifle with a bayonet and scope. He then took the Kar98 and slung it across his back. Also, Murdoc now had his Nazi helmet outfitted with pilot’s goggles. “And give me those sunglasses.” He said, ripping them off Joes face.
“I thought you died.” Said Sam, bewildered. “I suppose you want your guns back…”
“No, they were gifts. Keep them.” He said. All of a sudden, Lisa dropped down, and lay still. Before anybody could help her, she got back up, but her sleeve had already slipped. On her arm, there was a gaping, bleeding hole. It was a zombie bite.
“NO, WAIT!” yelled Sam, drawing his Five-seveN. Murdoc drew his two snake revolvers, and pointed one at Sam, one at Lisa. Lisa was too weak to draw her pistols. Joe had also drawn his Desert Eagles. “This isn’t exactly fair.” Muttered Sam.
“Oh, right.” Replied Mike, handing over his .357 Python. Lisa took it, and barely held it up. “Now,” said Mike, holstering the anaconda and drawing the colt Navy’s. “She will be just another zombie in a few seconds.”
“NO! We can still find a cure, a way to stop the spread. We can fix this!”
“Stand aside!” bellowed Joe, pointing one gun at Sam, one at Lisa. “Move or I swear to god, I’ll blow your fucking head off!” Sam remained still.
“Move, dammit!” roared Murdoc, cocking his pistols.
“No.” whispered Sam. Lisa collapsed again, but this time she started to moan and convulse. Sam held his gun right at Joe. As Sam was about to pull the trigger, Mike shot his two pistols, one at Sam’s arm, the other at Lisa’s head. One missed. The gun fell from Sam’s grip, and he held his arm close. Mike had hit his target. Lisa got up, but this time she had red eyes. Her face was contorted in an evil leer.
“Sam. You should do it.” With that, Murdoc handed Sam one of the .38s, and stood back, ready to if Sam could not. All the army guys were focusing in on the target as well. With tears streaming from his eyes, he professed his love for her, and fired. He then cocked it again, put the barrel to his temple, and pulled the trigger. A click rang out, but nothing more. He let out a cry of anguish, and fell to his knees. He reached for the .357, but Joe tackled him and restrained him as he beat at his own chest.
“WHY?” he howled.
“I removed all but one bullet, for I knew that you would try to take yourself too.” Joe let go, and picked up the pistols, handing them to Murdoc, who replaced them in his belt. He gave the Five-seveN and the .357 to Joe, who put them in his belt. Murdoc put his .38s in their holsters, and went over to a soldier. “Give me that anaconda I gave you earlier. I need it now.” The soldier obeyed, and Murdoc handed him a wad of cash. “Sam. When you are ready to bear arms, I shall let you keep Lisa’s Taurus’. My condolences.” He looked down, ashamed, and sauntered off into the base…
A survivor walked up to Sam. He had a Pancor Jackhammer automatic shotgun. He was average height, thin, and had blond hair.
“You know, it’s not only you. I had to shoot my wife, my parents, my brother, and my kids.” Sam looked up, but didn’t respond. “My name is Mike Pokorny. Call me Corndog.” He said. Sam still said nothing. Mike looked at him, opened a cooler, and took out two beers. Corndog handed one to Sam, and they sat there in silence and drank. Mike Murdoc finally exited the building, and sat down next to Corndog.
“Private Corndog. Get your ass up and make the dinner.” Corndog did as told, and Mike motioned for Sam to follow. The back of the grocery store, which was where that day’s drama had taken place, was a fenced in courtyard. The front was a series of sandbagged alcoves in which a mounted minigun was posted. In between each turret, there was a trench with barbed wire coiled in front. Across the large parking lot, there were a series of floodlights, landmines, and bear traps. In every trench, there was a crate full of grenades.
On the roof top of the grocery store, there were chairs and tables for snipers, who hid behind the signs. In the trenches, there were rows of M16 rifles, as well as crates full of extra clips. Bayonets were lined up on a neat rack adjacent to the gun rack. In the area behind the trench, there were jeeps with mounted gun turrets, and hummers with grenade launchers. On the patio of the store, in between each pillar, were sandbags to form a steady wall. Murdoc himself had designed the defenses.
“See what we are doing, Sam?” he asked, indicating the defenses. “We are surviving. Corndog’s story is one of many. Most of the men and women here are only alive because they did what was right. They put their family out of misery.” Sam surveyed the land with his own eyes, but was repulsed by what he saw.
“Violence…That is all I see. That is probably why god decided to punish us in the first place! That is what got us into this mess! You can’t fix this by doing the same method!” Sam burst into a fit of mania, ranting and raving. Mike grabbed him, and punched him in the face, breaking the nose.
“Sort your damn life out, man!” bellowed Murdoc, kicking dirt in Sams face. Sam got up, but instead, turned into the opposite direction, and entered the store. Murdoc glanced into the far parking lot, and saw what he would never forget. Along the horizon, a line of thousands of zombies staggered over a hill. The soldiers all gazed too. Murdoc waited no longer. He burst into action, reaching for his M1 Garand, and looked through the scope.
Jesus! There had to be at least one hundred thousand. They looked weak, but they also looked hungry enough to put up a hell of a fight. Murdoc sniped a few, the other snipers taking them out as well. It was night, and the floodlights were turned on. 3-2-1 BOOM! The first landmine went off. That was the in range signal. More explosions were set off, and the soldiers opened fire, mowing down zombies everywhere. Murdoc leaped into the front trench, and shot a few with his rifle. As they got closer, he switched to his shotgun. Since the incident, he had put Jackal pistols in the pit holsters, and had the anaconda in the front of his belt. As the hordes marched their way through the mess, a hand clamped down upon his shoulder. There was Jill, ready to battle the damn zombies…
Night had passed, and the horde had been destroyed. The Army had lost almost a third of their original force. Most of the casualties had been Murdoc’s men. He had taught them to die with honor, and that great rewards awaited you in heaven if you died for your comrades. Jill looked over the trench, and pulled Mike into an embrace, he hugged back.
“I’m glad you’re alright, but what about Meh?” Mike asked, looking around for Meh. Jill kissed him, then pointed at a guy who was still trying to shoot an empty machine gun in the air. Meh looked at the empty gun, and threw it onto the ground. He limped over to Murdoc, and thwacked him on the back.
“SUP HOMEBOYZ!” he said, acting a little crazy.
“Meh…where did you put your guns?” asked Mike, picking up his M1 Garand. When Meh didn’t answer him, Murdoc handed him the rifle. “Uh, seeing as you are unfit for close combat, we are appointing you a sniper. Murdoc watched as Meh took the gun, and he limped off into the grocery store. Jill watched as Meh left, and then kissed Murdoc once more. Mike motioned for her to follow, and he went to a truck full of weapons. He also had a few clothes in there. “So, uh, this is all mine.” Was all he said.
“Wow.” Jill muttered more to herself than anybody in particular. Mike rummaged around, and finally produced a set of silver Berretta Inox’s and strapped them to Jill. He then pulled out an ammo belt, and put it on her as well. He picked up some Velcro bandoliers with shotgun shells, and gave them to her. “Mike…what is all this for?”
“We have to hurry. We need to get on going.” With that, he handed her a Winchester 1300 defender, the Kar98, and a pouch of bullets. He himself took a Short-barreled Remington 870 with pistol grip and a Remington M24 sniper rifle with a bipod and a sling. In the pit holsters, he had a pair of automag .44amp pistols. He wore a pair of Velcro bandoliers with shotgun shells, a leather bandolier for the rifle rounds, and a cartridge belt at his waist with rounds for the Colt Navy .38s. He also wore a clip carrier on the back of the cartridge belt at his waist for the automags. In a thigh holster, he had the colt anaconda. On the other thigh, he had a pouch full of anaconda rounds.
“Mike!” screamed Joe, running over to the truck. He still had all the weapons, and all the ammo he could carry. The truck was an old delivery truck, but had been painted camouflage since Murdoc had stolen it. Mike lastly took a gas station shirt, and put it on, not bothering to put on the suspenders that dangled from his pants. He motioned for Joe to go get Meh, Sam, and Corndog. Jill, Sam, and Mike sat in the cab, while Meh, Joe and Corndog were in back, with the supplies, cots, and the closable slots for guns. At ever slot, a mounted Colt 1911 dangled from a hinge. I was connected to a belt of ammo trailing to the stack of crates in the back of the truck.
“Murdoc, what the hell is going on?” asked Jill, whom Mike ignored. Mike just started the truck. “Mike! Answer me!” she demanded, gently pulling his face to look into her eyes. “What is gong on?”
“The army is calling a full retreat. They are bombing the country. We have to be out of here in a week, or we’ll all be dead.” He stopped, hanging his head in shame. “We gotta get a head start, but first, we’re leaving early to make it out.” He looked into the mirror, and saw the captain approaching.
“Good evening, sir.” The captain said, shaking Murdoc’s hand. “As you know, the retreat will be called soon. Get out. I wish you the best of luck.” Finally, he nodded at the group, and left their presence. With a shudder, the truck roared to life, and Murdoc pulled out into the street. Last stop, Union City…