John was violently shaking the soldier that was on the ground, trying to wake him up. "Come on, come on, come on!" The man's body simply flopped around in his arms. Must have been a hard fall. "Wake up-"

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE'S JOHNNNNNNNNNNNY!!!!!!!!"

At first John thought someone he knew was in the room shouting his name, but that thought was quickly shot down. Quite literally. John zeroed in on the shouting, and saw the muzzle flash through the small crack that had appeared in the door. It was accompanied by the ear shattering blasts of a rifle. The man may have been completely crazy, but he was a trained soldier, and his short bursts were tearing through the crowd; people were practically dropping left and right. They completely disregarded each other as people. Pushing, shoving, anything to make sure they got out alive. It was complete chaos. John considered firing back at the infected individual, but that shot would probably be difficult even for a talented marksmen. He took his finger off the trigger and bolted away from the crowd, stumbling over bodies as he did. He found himself pressed up again against a wall, his body crouched to make himself as small as possible. His knees brought up to cover his core vitals. "Think, think, think. Fuck." John surveyed the room, trying to look for a solution. He noted that some people had taken shelter underneath the already dead. "Maybe I should..." His voice trailed as he realized that anyone in the room could be infected, hiding under a bleeding body might lead to contamination.

Suddenly the room was quiet, and John snapped back to reality. He hadn't seen the crazed soldier enter the room, or the person that had shot his legs causing him to fall. It was his chance. John sprung up and ran at the injured crazy, knocking two people down as he did. 

The crazy was still alive, and quickly recovering from the bullets. His right arm was reaching out, clutching the rifle that he had dropped. His left hand was a complete mess, fingers dangling by mere threads. No doubt the place that the third bullet had hit. A look of pure savagery was plastered on his face. "I'll huff and I'll puff!!" He pointed the barrel at two survivors who were shrieking at him, begging for their lives.

Seconds before he could pull the trigger, John's boot collided with his face. There was an audible pop as his jaw broke. "No!" John shouted weakly. The impact was hard and the soldier's face jerked to the side, both blood and teeth flew out and spattered on the ground. John aimed his gun at him, but the crazy was faster. Even with two wounded legs and a broken jaw, the infected managed to grab John's right leg with his bloody hand, and sweep it out from under him. 

John crashed to the floor hitting it hard. He doubled over in pain, the soldier gave him no time to recover, however, and grabbed his leg again. This time he was pulling himself on top of John. "Wanna swap spit?!" He stuck out his tongue as he pulled himself up, the bottom half of his jaw swinging from side to side.

"Oh fuck!" John screeched. He frantically started kicking the crazy, his boot slamming against his face multiple times. The bastard just kept coming, despite his wounds. John blindly fumbled his hands around him, trying to find the rifle that he held only moments ago. Leg. Shoe. Hair. Metal! John gripped the handle of the rifle, swung it over his body and aimed it at the now contorted face that was trying to maul him. "Bye Johnny!" He yelled while simultaneously pulling the trigger back. The bullets ripped through his head, wiping the sick smile from existence. Even after the clip was empty, John's finger was still squeezing the trigger.