Before I stepped outside, I paused. “I have no weapon.”
He patted a couple pockets with his hand not holding an AR-15 and pulled out a folding knife with a camo paint scheme. “It’s not much, but it’s all I can spare.”
I opened the blade. “Better than nothing.”
Nick gave my shoulder a quick pat. “Head east. That’s the quickest way out of here. I got to get to my squad. As soon as all the civvies are in their barracks, we’re going to start unloading the heavies on the zeds.” Nick sprinted toward the tanks and Humvees rolling in, likely to congregate around the barracks in the distance, and I hoped that Jase was safe.
Movement in the darkness off to Nick’s left kicked me into action. “Your nine o’clock!” I shouted, running toward him.
He twisted to his left where at least a dozen zeds tumbled out of the shadows. He held down the trigger, firing into the onslaught and taking down several zeds, but most bullets embedded harmlessly into their torsos and limbs.
I sprinted to close the distance between Nick and me.
A zed wearing a business suit emerged from the darkness behind Nick. I spun around it and embedded the knife up to its hilt into the back of the zed’s skull. I hadn’t been sure the blade was long enough until the zed collapsed.
Nick’s rifle clicked on empty. He dropped it and pulled out a pistol that looked like a Beretta 9mm.
“Conserve your ammo,” I said as I picked up the empty rifle. “Remember to go for head shots!”
Wild-eyed, he fired into the thinning group, and I pocketed the knife. I jogged over to the zeds on the fringe, ones too shot up to walk, and swung down the rifle butt, making sure to crush each skull before moving onto the next.
After Nick quit shooting, I slammed the rifle into the last moving zed.
Walking back, I held out the AR-15, now dripping with brown sludge. He finished reloading his pistol, holstered it, and looked up. He grimaced at the rifle, but took it and reloaded.
“Hasn’t anyone trained you guys on the art of killing zeds?” I held a finger to my temple. “Always go for headshots. One shot, one kill. Anywhere else is a waste of ammo unless you’re overwhelmed and have to slow them down.”
“Lay off me, I’m just ROTC,” Nick said, reloading the rifle. “It’s just different when they’re right there. They should never have gotten this far into the Camp.”
Screams erupted in the distance, and we both jerked around.
Nick’s eyes widened. “They breached the barracks!”
No. Jase!
We took off running toward the barracks, where gunfire flashed like lightning bugs in the night.
Several zeds lumbered after us along the way, but we easily outran any Nick didn’t take down with headshots.
By the time we reached the first barrack, cries seemed to be coming from everywhere. Zeds pounded at each of the doors and windows of the barrack. The people inside stood huddled together under the lights, making them look like fish in a fishbowl. Soldiers in full battle armor, unable to fire without risking casualties to friendly fire inside, used bayonet-knives, axes, and crowbars to take out the zeds and were making headway.
I came down on a knee by a soldier who’d lost his helmet and had been chewed to a pulpy mess. I relieved him of his rifle and knife before rummaging through his pockets to find two fresh magazines. His warm blood soaked my hands, making the mags slippery.
After reloading the rifle, I found a pale Nick nervously waiting for me instead of helping his comrades, his lack of experience all too obvious.
.30 cal machine guns belted out rounds into the darkness.
The first barrack had been nearly cleared by the troops. I tugged Nick’s arm. “Let’s check the other barracks.”