For a few seconds there, there wasn’t much I could do beyond stand and watch as the shit hit the fan, my eyes failing to track the mass of zombies coming in our direction.

“We gotta hold the door.” Stan said flatly without moving before blinking hard like he’d just rebooted and running over to the door, “Finn, give me a hand.”

I was still in shock, and Stan’s words hit my ears meaninglessly as my brain tried to think of what I was supposed to do.

Should I just try firing on them? Limit the amount that were actually going to make it into the hospital?

Or should I just run and hide? Hope for the best and let the others fend for themselves?

“Finn!” Stan barked, snapping me back to life, “The door, now!”

It still took me a few seconds, but I managed to shake off the disorientation I felt and ran over to the door, “Cara, you wanna get that bike over the edge?”

“Why the Hell do I have to move the bike by myself?” Cara snapped, “This thing looks heavy as-”

“Just get it over the frickin’ edge!” Stan growled as something slammed into the door and we struggled to keep it at bay.

“C’mon, c’mon…” a weak voice sputtered from the other side of the door, “Please, you gotta let me up there, I swear I ain’t gonna shoot you or nothin’.”

She sounded scared, abnormally scared compared to most others, but neither Stan nor I were willing to risk getting surprised with a bunch of buckshot in our backs.

“Give us one good reason.” Stan ordered, “How do we know we can trust you?”

“Come on, just open the door,” she pleaded desperately, “if I die… Oh shit, they’re comin’… Man, you gotta let me in. If I die in here, I’m dead in-”

Suddenly the pressure on the door disappeared, leaving Stan and I to stare at each other confusedly before both coming to the same conclusion as a notification popped up.

xXMirantXx left the game

-1 Player (168 Players Remaining)

“There’s always one, huh?” Cara scoffed as she tried to figure out a way to lift the bike up over the concrete wall, “Someone always decides to bail the second things get interesting. Frickin’ pussies.”

I wanted to tell her the truth of what had just happened, but decided against it right as at least five different growls started echoing their way up the stairwell.

“Here we go…” Stan trailed off concernedly as the zombies came up the stairs and started pawing at the door, “You reckon we can pop ‘em?”

It made me a bit uncomfortable that Stan had somehow managed to just brush off the fact that someone had died because we’d refused to give them shelter, but forced myself past it as the zombies got more aggressive, “Not without bringin’ in a whole lot more,” I replied, struggling to keep the door shut as I did, “I think we’re best off if we just hold the door and hope for the best. Make as little noise as possible an-”

I didn’t get the chance to finish my sentence as Cara had finally managed to push the bike over the ledge, resulting in it hitting the ground and, for no other apparent reason than to make our lives Hell, started blaring the sound of a truck horn.

“What in the Hell is that thing doin’!?” I barked as the zombies started truly hammering at the door.

“I don’t know!” Cara called back, “I swear, I didn’t-oh shit… More comin’…”

“How much more?” Stan asked when Cara failed to elaborate.

“Well… How many more would you say would be too much?” Cara replied with an audible gulp, “Because, whatever that number is, double it.”

I went to curse under my breath, but was stopped as even more zombies started to pile up against the door, “What’re we gonna do?”

Stan started doing that thing where he blinked hard again, then began shaking his head, “I-I-I…” he stammered, “I honestly don’t know.”

I’d never seen Stan like that, so full of terror and hopelessness, and I didn’t much care to stay looking at it.

Now, I can’t fully justify what I did next, but with that being said I think it’s important that you know that desperate times call for desperate and stupid measures.

With little-to-regard for ammo conservation, I popped away from the door, switched my AR-15 over to full-auto, stuck the barrel to the wood, and opened fire.

Killed Z.O.M.B. Mutation 2

+5 Points (76 Points)

Killed Z.O.M.B. Mutation 2

+5 Points (81 Points)

Killed Z.O.M.B. Mutation 2

+5 Points (86 Points)

Killed Z.O.M.B. Mutation 2

+5 Points (91 Points)

Killed Z.O.M.B. Mutation 2

+5 Points (96 Points)

It was probably only about three or four seconds of continuous fire, but I swear to God it felt like it lasted for at least a minute, and when I was left to reload my remaining forty rounds with the drum that appeared in my hand as I ejected the spent one, I couldn’t help but notice everything from my fingertips to my clavicle vibrating.

“Ho-ly shit…” Stan chuckled as he peeked through the splintery hole I’d left, “I think you killed ‘em al-oh shit!”

At first I thought he was about to be attacked by another zombie that I’d somehow missed, but then he pulled away from the door like he’d just been punched and I saw that both the hole and the ghillie fringe over Stan’s brow had caught fire.

“Drop and roll!” Cara shouted as she ran towards us, “Drop and roll!”

Stan couldn’t hear her though, his head had become engulfed including his ears, leaving him deaf to the world as Cara barged past me and slapped Stan smack-bang in his forehead, leaving him to once again, thanks to Cara, fall flat on his ass.

Cara wasn’t done though, and before Stan could so much as utter the words ‘What the Hell?’ she’d kicked him onto the ground and started rolling him around while slapping the flames that wrapped his face.

I’m not sure why I was so useless, I wasn’t exactly a virgin when it came to situations like that after all. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it had been my fault, or maybe, and believe me when I saw that I felt sick for thinking this, maybe I wanted him to die.

Maybe there was some part of me that wanted some weird, unpredictable, eyeball fire to take him out so I wouldn’t have to directly.

Hell, maybe I just wanted him to die before he got me.