Folion

(I'll assume you kicked their door in, Derek.)

'Fuck!' Ruben roared, blasting the knees out of every approaching ghoul that came into view. He watched with shivering horror as they buckled and fell to the ground, then rose up again and continued their hampered attack on their posts. 'Mark, keep laying it hard! I see six more coming out of the fog!' Gritting his teeth and anchoring himself into the floor, he continued knocking the oncoming ghouls onto the floor while Mark picked them off with his rifle. It was a slow, painfully phlegmatic process but it worked.

'Zombies aren't even supposed to run!' Mark cried, flabbergasted, his gunshots echoing down the hall.

Ruben had a smart remark for that somewhere, but he wasn't in the mood. He totaled up the approaching enemies en mass. Twelve. Twelve fucking bloodthirsty zombies with crazy smiles and frenzied eyes. Their moans and screams were more than enough to draw a few more each time Mark wasted one. Ruben didn't see this going anywhere fast. And, more than likely, they might have been approaching from behind, ripping at their locked doors and boarded windows....

All of a sudden, Ruben heard a crash. Zombies could not kick. At least, in his experiences, they couldn't. He could be wrong. Dear God, please let him be wrong. He alerted Mark down the hall, 'Mark, someone or something just busted the door, you keep picking off these bastards! I'm keeping an eye out for whoever's coming.' He turned a blind eye torwards the window and faced the hallway.

'Shit...' He muttered.

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