Outbreak chapt. 6

 I awoke to the throbbing pain in my skull, it felt like it was going to burst with every movement I took. I lay facing a wooden wall with the bright of the sun shining over my head through a window sill. This wasn't my house. I forced my hand down on it as to compress the pain, but it only intensified. I tried to use my free hand to hoist myself of the damp wooden floor but fell on my face with the realization that my wrist had been broken. The wooden floor was cool on my face and I couldn't figure out why, everything seemed to be a blur to me. I didn't know where I was or what i was doing, all i knew was that my head hurt, my wrist was broken and i was in some strange house. I pulled my hand away from my hand in order to get up, I cradled my other hand and immediately noticed that it was covered in blood. Thus explaining the cool of the ground, I was laying in a puddle of blood. I scurried to my feet and frantically frisked myself in fear of being wounded, but luckily i was not cut or sliced open; the blood was not my own. I spun around to see the rest of the room; the light of the sun revealed torn corpses and raw, rotting flesh. I was sickened by the sight and fled to the window to "relieve" myself. I wiped my mouth and slowly set over to my fallen weapons, at the touch of the shotgun everything flooded back into my memory.

"George," I whispered allowed and jogged over to my fallen comrade, he still seemed to be unconscious. I grabbed his arm and slung it over my shoulder, distributed his weight to my legs and lifted him off of the blood-ridden floor. His eyes fluttered and stared into mine.

"Hey buddy, rise and shine," I said weakly, his eyes narrowed as he responded with a wild swing, it wasn't too powerful due to his recent unconsciousness but it was enough. I fell to my back and he flopped on his bottom without my supporting weight, he fought his way back up using the wall for balance.

"You...you tried to kill Zach, and now he's gone," he limped over to me as I was trying to regain my equilibrium.

"Zach is probably a zombie by now, George. We have to move on," I was cold and I guess that's what earned me a swift kick to the gut. I curled inward quickly line a threatened pill bug and slumped over on my side gasping for air.

"How could even bring yourself to say that?!" another kick found my stomach, George was pissed "he's our friend, he's practically even family"! I really felt it that time, he made perfect contact with my broken rib.

"Ugh....H-he can't be saved. He's gone George," I tried desperately to breathe but everything was whirling together in a jumbled array of colors and lights.

"YOU'RE WRONG!" you know sometimes people have this thing called common sense; you know that little thing that tells you things, like when it's a good time to stop talking? I don't have that.

"George you're in denial, we have to move on. It's what Uncle George would have wanted," I've never seen George so angry. He actually got a pretty good running start in this kick, I've never seen projectile vomit before but I knew what it felt like after that unforgiving kick. I wiped my mouth with the only good hand i had, I can't remember being any weaker than that particular moment but I was pissed.

"HOW DARE YOU BRING MY FATHER INTO THIS!!! HE WOULD HAVE WENT AFTER THAT SONUVABIT-" he was cut short by the uppercut I gave him square on the chin. I don't think I've ever moved that fast in my life and i doubt i ever will again. I was standing over George with my shotgun to his face.

"Uncle George had to bury all his friends, remember? He even had to plug two of them, so don't sit there and try to tell me what Uncle George would have done," George looked into the barrel of the gun and looked back at me.

"What're you gonna do? Shoot me?" He scoffed a little, and then turned his head to the side and looked at the wooden surface he rested upon. He was thinking, he knew what i was saying was right.

"Damn you, Damn you Freddy. GO TO HELL!!" George wept bitterly and I knelt down to comfort him. He grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me towards himself crying uncontrollably on my jacket. And hell what was i supposed to do, I broke my wrist, my rib, and lost one of my best friends: I cried right with him.

We left that house slowly, for the sake of our injuries and in reverence for the life that was lost there. George didn't say a word to me on the ride home, it was quiet, dead quiet. Nobody was around, it was just uncanny. I mean sure a lot of people started to leave once the zombie scare kicked up but there should be at least one family still here.

There was no one.

We pulled into the driveway with a shock, there were four or five black vans in front of the house. We got out of the car cautiously and walked, with much effort and difficulty, to the front steps of the house.

The door was cracked open a little but sight to the inside was not permitted. I pulled my shotgun from it's large holster and crept silently towards the door, George was covering me from a safe distance. I kicked open the door with the little energy I had left to meet almost a few dozen pistols with lasers staring me in the face. The lasers danced around and settle at different vital points of my body, it was impossible to see who held the guns because two lasers were blinding me with a glare worse than the suns. I squinted to see who these intruders were but it was no use, finally the silence and tension was broken with a commanding voice.

"Lower you weapons men, it's them," it took a few seconds for my eyes to focus and the indent in my eyes made by the lasers to fade. I rubbed them furiously.

"Who the hell are you people and why are you in my house!" I yelled into the darkness of my eyelids.

"Oh sorry about that, my name is Mr. Smith, John Smith".

"John Smith?" I was cynical, I opened my eyes to see almost twenty-five feds in my house.

"Well, you see Frederick when you work in my field our identities are very important to us, as a matter of fact that's classified," he grinned at me half-heartedly and reached into his coat to pull out his identification "Agent Smith F.B.I. sorry to barge in on you like this but we have a bit of a problem here. We're going to have to nuked this little ole town of yours, due to the infestation, sorry for any inconvenience".