Logain hated travelling at night. Dull sight, enhanced hearing; Worst combination, especially when one had to listen to the moans of those poor undead bastards. The screams of the living were almost as bad. Still, somethings were easy to ignore.
Logain reached in his left breast pocket and pulled out a flashlight attachment, sliding it in place on his assault rifle. Bringing the weapon to bear, Logain headed off in the direction of the shooting. Shooting meant survivors. Survivors meant food, ammo, and a chance to find his sister.
The streets were a bloody mess, something right out of the damn movies Logain had watched as a child. Cars everywhere, windshields cracked, blood smeared all over, trash littering the ground, and mangled corpses strewn in the streets. It was a hard sight to bear, but that was something else the military had prepared him for.
A groan cut through the air, close. Logain snapped his rifle up and sighted the creature to his left, less than a hundred yards away. Where there was one, there were many more. Flipping the safety, Logain used the laser sight to aim at the fleshy, wobbly mass of a head the zombie had before he pulled the trigger once. A defeaning, single shot, and Logain got to watch the tattered flesh, pieces of bone, and parts of half-decayed brain spray from behind it's head.
"I hate this job." Logain groaned before he flipped the safety back on, pushed the rifle around to his back, and pulled out his M9 with his right hand, holding the pistole above his left, which held the combat knife, pointed backwards. With a kick, Logain knocked the front door in and slowly walked in, calling out every five feet.
[Hope it's up to standard.]
__________________
Duty is heavier than a mountain, death is lighter than a feather.
|