The Virus, Lee, Damien [summer beach reads .txt] 📗

tinged with the squeak of adolescence.

“There are enough guns to go round,” Ben said, “Let us grab some, and a few boxes of bullets, and we’ll be out of your hair.”

The first looter strode forward, aiming a semi-automatic shotgun at the two men.

“I told you to go somewhere else. Now leave, or you die.”

“We’re not leaving without those weapons.”

“Then you give me no choice.”

“You won’t pull the trigger,” Frank sneered. He stared unblinking as the gunman stepped closer.

“Won’t I?”

“Nope. One gunshot will bring every zombie within a mile here. And I’ll hazard a guess that you lot haven’t even held a gun in your life. I mean, look at that kid back there; he’s shitting himself.”

Frank waited for the thug to look over his shoulder before making his move. He grabbed the barrel of the shotgun and tugged it aside. The startled gunman pulled the trigger, blasting a hole in a nearby bus stop. He tried to regain control of the weapon, but a quick elbow to the face sent him reeling. As soon as the thug was out of their line of sight, the other men opened fire.

“Down!” Frank yelled, dragging Ben to the ground.

The bullets sprayed the side of the prison van as the two men retreated around its sturdy frame.

“Brilliant plan,” Ben snapped.

“Hey, it got us a gun, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, and three blokes shooting at us.”

Frank leaned against the door of the van as the firing ceased.

“You might want to come up with another plan,” Ben said, “Guy number four is back on his feet.”

Frank dashed to the end of the van where Ben was peering around the side. Sure enough, the man was arming himself with another weapon.

“Shit.”

Frank checked the chamber of the shotgun before lowering himself to the ground. “Cover me,” he ordered.

“With what?”

“Your eyes! Keep a look out for zombies.”

“What about that lot?”

“I’ll take care of them.”

Frank shuffled underneath the van, eyeing the three pairs of legs in the ruined shop. He wondered where the fourth gunman could be until a foot stepped right in front of him. He watched the looter creep alongside the van. As he reached the edge, Frank pulled the trigger. With an agonised scream, the man fell to the ground as his legs exploded in a crimson haze. His squeals subsided when a second bullet tore open his chest. The impact sent him sprawling backward. His body twitched as the others looked on.

“Cooper!” One of them yelled, firing at the van once more. Frank quickly shuffled out of sight, waiting for the bullets to stop.

“Ben!” he yelled over the gunfire.

“What?”

“Take this.”

He pushed the shotgun down past his legs and kicked it out at his feet. He heard Ben retrieve the weapon as the gunfire ceased.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Fire it!”

He heard Ben emerge from his hiding place, firing shot after shot at the startled trio. Using the distraction to his advantage, Frank crawled forward. He reached out and snatched the dead man’s rifle.

“I’m out!” Ben yelled as the gunmen returned fire.

The bullets pounded the van’s metal frame, shattering the windows and deflating one of the tyres.

Frank hissed as a bullet ricocheted off the ground nearby. He checked the magazine of the rifle. He had four bullets. Squinting down the scope, he saw none of the men in view. He guessed they were all under cover until his sight picked up another dead body lying prone on the ground.

“You got one?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I thought you city boys were all talk?”

He swept his sight back and forth across the store, waiting for one of the men to appear.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a city boy.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

He grinned when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. The hooded teenager briefly came into view before disappearing behind the counter.

“Gotcha.”

He lined his shot over the wooden surface, picturing the man crouched behind it. Once he was sure of his target, he pulled the trigger. Fragments erupted from the counter as the bullet smashed through, striking the teenager. The young man cried out as the shot tore through his ribs. Unfazed, Frank swept his view over to the other side of the room as the commotion stirred the final gunman.

As soon as the man’s head came into view, Frank fired. His aim was slightly off, but the bullet still removed a sizeable section of the man’s face. He fell to the ground, leaving the store vacant.

“I think we better go,” Ben urged, kicking Frank’s legs as he shambled out from beneath the van.

“I know, the zombies might’ve heard.”

“There’s no might about it.”

Frank rose to his feet, staring at the mass of undead at the end of the street. Some sprinted towards them, others shambled slowly on fractured limbs. He looked at the other end of the road and found more zombies closing in.

“Good job we’re at a gun shop, huh?” he said, as they ran through the dilapidated storefront.

“Where are the bullets?” Ben searched the shattered display cases, swiping the glass aside. Frank ignored him as he strode towards the back room. “Where are you going? We need weapons.”

“Yeah, but they’ll be chewing your arse before you can load them. Get over here.”

The first zombie rounded into the store emitting a gleeful screech. Ben darted into the back room after Frank and slammed the door shut. He propped his shoulder against the frame as Frank scanned their surroundings.

“A little help?” Ben snapped as the bulk of undead flesh and bone crashed into the other side of the door.

Frank looked back as the horde struck again. “I’m thinking.”

He turned and made his way around the room. Various boxes of ammo were stacked neatly along the shelves.