shadowsworn

Helena's eyes opened in surprise as she was pushed to the floor. She opened her mouth to swear at whoever it was automatically, then decided against it.

I'm having a moment here, if you don't mind. she thought resentfully, with a sniff. My best friend is gone, maybe dead, and it's all my fucking fault... and I don't even have a moment before some asshole comes and attacks me out of nowhere...

She settled for sticking out her tongue at him behind his back, because, she realized, he probably wouldn't be able to hear her anyway over all the gunshots... and besides, he was kinda cute.

Helena shook her head. There were a bunch of other guys in the room too, she realized, all shooting at the zombies, desperately trying to hold them back. She picked up her Desert Eagle in one hand, and looked around the room.

One of the men, a big tough military guy with a brown pony tail and a vest, was cut off from the other two, and, although several zombies had already fallen around him, blown apart by his almost berserker attack, he was slowly being surrounded by them.

She fired, hitting one of the zombies, a man in a janitor's uniform with a tatoo on one arm under his torn sleeve, in the back, knocking him into another zombie, and sending them both falling onto the floor. She fired a second time, trying to hit a zombie that appeared to be approaching from the man's blind side, a woman with short blond hair and an oversized purse held in the mangled remains of one hand. As she was pulling the trigger though, the man suddenly turned and shot the zombie almost point blank in the face. Helena winced, as her shot flew by the man's face, just missing him.

Well he can obviously handle himself.

Helena stood up, and made her way over to where the young guy who had pushed her aside was standing, almost back to back with another guy, shooting zombies as she did so.

Suddenly, Helena felt her leg being grabbed, and almost fell, dropping her gun on the ground in surprise. The janitor zombie she had shot before had crawled over here while she wasn't looking, Helena saw. From close up, his face was absolutely hideous, she thought. The teeth were caked in black dried blood and dirt, and ribbons of flesh hung across his dessicated left cheek. It looked like the same attack that had destroyed that half of his face had taken part of his nose as well.

Raising her other boot, Helena smashed it into the zombie's face, grimacing slightly at the crunching sound of bone and cartilage snapping, and wrenched her trapped foot away from the zombie's weakened grip.

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