Zombie Hunting

Sergeant Zhang's POV's

You took a deep breath as you braced yourself for battle. And then, you said the signal.

"Go!" You said, as firmly and quietly as you could.

Keeping their heads down and moving in opposite directions, her current teammates were able to approach the wheeled carts before being spotted but the second they started pushing them forward, the pack of walkers heard the noises and turned around, snarling.

And as they tried to rush to their attempted meal, the hunting began.

You aimed and shot with your excellent, semi-automatic rifle with quick precision. Then another round found its way to a zombie's forehead. This happened again. And again. And then you kept blowing more and more brains, disgusting as it was to watch the bloody splatters later.

"But I am not just a battle-tested soldier," You thought to yourself with fire in your eyes as aimed your next well-placed shot. "I am also a combat medic. I am used to getting my hands dirty with grime and gore. I have set broken bones and surgically removed shrapnel from screaming civillians without my hands trembling, while bombs exploded nearby. Pain mixed with blood, sweat and tears never stopped me before once I was determined to see things through to the end. And it won't start now, because I did NOT survive the carnage of the Neo-Aleppo Offensive while patching up my squad for months only to be eaten by a shambling...walking...corpse!" You growled, this time speaking loudly; conviction dripping from your tone when you fired three more headshots, making the rotting monsters collapse on the spot with a satisfying thud and slowing the back of the horde with their bodies.

You inhaled sharply as you took another moment to aim properly before taking out your frustrations on yet another walker's skull.

"That makes 10," You realized as the remaining zombies finally collided with your obstacle around 30 seconds into the hunt, Jeremy and his son already behind the metallic carts. "Not my best or fastest work but I still need to be sure I am aiming well. Can't afford to waste ammo right now," You thought with a nod before taking aim.

However, it seemed the father-son duo had quickly come up with a battle plan of their own because, while you took down another of the undead, they got rid of the next 2 walkers in about 5 seconds. Blinking quickly, you realized that they were playing to their respective skills to defend and attack.

While Jonathan tapped into his athletic strength that had served him well as a football defense star back in highschool to hold the line and push the wheeled cart back against the necrotic tide, his dad used his revolver to aim for the head before him, the point-blank range from the shot being powerful enough to blow off half of its face. You noticed him grimacing but still preparing the next round in the chamber and repeating the process with the next closest zombie.

You joined him with another headshot from your high ground but while you appreciated the help, and saw potential in their ability to think on their feet while coordinating, you soon realized you had to put a stop to it as much as you respected their initiative.

"Well done, guys!" You called out. "We are already more than halfway through this horde. But I need you to stop firing, Mr. Carter," You said insistently as you shot again. "Your revolver lacks even a poor suppressor so while my shots are unlikely to attract more walkers from the outside unless they are already around this block, your weapon could bring a lot more of them down on us if you keep firing it."

Jeremy winced but quickly holstered his weapon, bowing to your expertise on the matter. Then he decided to help his son push back the cart while you kept aiming for headshots, since the growing pile of corpses was making it easier for them to climb.

You grunted as another one bit the dust with their bloodied teeth but while few were left by the next minute they finally started to get on top of the wheeled carts. Snarling, they tried to storm past the final obstacles to reach you. So, you glared at them, kept pointing and then firing away, and kept thanking your lucky stars that the suppressor on your high-powered rifle model makes it one the most silent ones that were ever produced.

Before long, only two were left but they had already gotten on top of the cart and were less than 3 feet away. You swallowed, starting to get extra tense as you shot down the next one. But then the very last walker still standing managed to jump towards you, despite your partners' best efforts to push it and the cart below it away from you with all their strength. And so, you cried out in alarm as you fell flat on your back to the floor, the zombie falling on top of you.

And this time, it was aiming for your throat snarled.