Quinn and Lawrence smash some display cases and begin to pile stuff into a couple large duffles. Guns, ammo, knives - in they go. Some of the undead are curiously attracted by the noise, but they lose interest quick. Only a few thumps at the door and some groans sound before dead silence reclaims the streets. Bloody handprints are left on the thick glass of the door.

Most of the items in the store look foreign to you. Not only the intimidating guns, but a great heap of other items are sitting around - some things you've seen only on television. In theory, any of these things will be handy, but in reality, you have zero skill with all of them. The best you can hope is that you'll have a natural knack for some of them. The problem is, you really don't know where to start.

Movement at your side gets your attention. Quinn holds up a huge bladed hunting knife. One side is smooth and the other is ridged; you can tell it's sharp as a razor.

"Here," he says, holding it out toward you with the business end facing him. "Luckily, this store has a decent selection of various weapons. You'll want to use the gun sparingly... especially in closed spaces like the sewer. Go for the eyes; easier to get to the brain."

You take the knife, feeling a little nauseated at the thought of stabbing the undead with it. It's only now that what you've got to do really sinks in. Suddenly, fear and shock has to take a back seat. You have to toughen up if you want to make it. The only way out is to shoot and stab and fight. Above all else, you have to live.

You straighten your back, resolved to do what must be done. The knife holder is laying next to where Quinn grabbed it. You take it and strap it around your thigh. It fits snug and secure. You raise up and see Quinn testing a bow, a quill full of sharp pointed arrows strapped to his back. He gives you an encouraging nod.

Lawrence has two samurai swords, slashing them through the air. Briefly, you're reminded of Leonardo, the Ninja Turtle. Strange, the kinds of things you can still find humorous in a crisis. You shake it off and get back to business. There are a bunch of firearm holsters hanging on the wall, and you sift through them until you come upon one that will fit your gun and one other.

After a bit of adjusting, you slip the holster over your shoulders and put your gun inside. The weight of it feels awkward; it's the first time you've been strapped with a death dealing device, but it's for good reason. You search down another Beretta to put in the other side and shove numerous loaded clips into your waistband.

A crossbow catches your eye, but as you move to grab it, someone's hands rudely pushes yours away.

Frustrated, you glance around and see Lawrence shaking his head. "Takes strength and time to reload that, kid. I wouldn't recommend it."

Your hands fall to your side and he promptly claims it instead, causing your mouth to drop.

"But you just said-"

"I wouldn't recommend it for you, but for me, it's perfect," he says flatly.

He wanders off, singing something under his breath. Though the words are hard to make out, you decipher that it's something very morbid. Something that sends a shiver up your spine to join the annoyance that has already seeped in.

"Alex," Quinn says.

It takes a moment to realize he's speaking to you. New names take time to get used to. Finally, you jerk your attention in his direction.

"What's up?" you ask.

He's holding a couple of hatchets. They look exactly like the kind you've seen on a video game. He shoves them in his belt and nods toward a display on your left.

A wide rectangle holds antique weapons. The owner must have been a collector. Some of them are rusted, some tarnished and dented as if they've been used quite a lot. Some you don't even know what to call or how it works, but in the center, a weapon stands out to you. It has a handle about the length of a hammer, with a spiked ball on the end. A mace.

That's simple, you think, I can just swing it.

You take it and hold tight, then give it a few practice swings. Yep, it'll definitely do some damage.

"I feel so Spartan right now," you say, hoping to break the tension in the room.

Quinn and Lawrence both give small laughs. It's probably easier for them to take a joke right now because it seems they're far from newbies. If you don't joke, you'll lose your wits.

"Have you guys...done this before?" you ask curiously.

"Yeah," Lawrence says simply.

"Many times," Quinn says. "It's what we're trained for."

"Trained? What are you, special ops?" you say.

"Something like that. They see a zombie outbreak, they send us in. This is the worst we've seen," Quinn says.

"So, then, you should have a crew, right? You can't be expected to do a job like that alone. You can get us out of here, call base or-or whatever you do-" You stop talking because Quinn keeps shaking his head and Lawrence chuckles.

"We are the crew," Lawrence says impatiently. "What's left of it."

You see a shimmer of emotion cross his face. He turns and punches a wall, causing you to jump.

"We lost some good men back there," Quinn says, bowing his head. "We weren't prepared for so many- But we keep fighting the good fight."

"The bastards'll pay. Rotting, soulless scum," Lawrence says venomously. "Let's go."

"Uhm, where are we going exactly?" you ask.

"We'll hit the sewers, then get to the nearest radio station and try to use their devices to contact base," Quinn says.

You nod. All the while, your mind is screaming that you need to get to that mall and find your family. Not that you aren't grateful that you're lucky enough to find two capable officials to help you along - even though one of them is terribly annoying - but you're worried about your family.

Quinn leads the way out of the main room through a door in the back and Lawrence follows.

You stand there, wondering whether you should follow or split at this point. You can follow Quinn and Lawrence and probably survive, or you can take the weapons you have, find a way to get to your family, and help them.

Sure, Quinn and Lawrence are apparently trained to kill the undead, but it didn't keep their crew from falling prey; how can you be sure they'll keep you alive? On the other hand, they said they hadn't been prepared. They're better equipped now, so they should stand a pretty good chance.

Then again, your family is probably worried sick - that is, assuming they're still safe. It's nearly killing you inside, worrying about them. You should be there; should be doing whatever it takes to get there.

"What's the hold-up, kid?" Lawrence says, poking his head back through the door.

Join Quinn and Lawrence. - GO TO CHAPTER 23

Split and find my family. - GO TO CHAPTER 24