Aría

[i]Click. Click[/i]

Shit.

This is not what I bargained for. This is a downright goddamn horde. Even with perfect headshots, I only managed to drop a couple dozen and now I'm out of ammo. I turn to run and find myself backed into a corner, abominations on all sides. I grin nervously, sweating, and search desperately for an escape. Fire escape too high. Gaps in between zombies too small. Walls high and sheer. Guns down. Can't touch any of them.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Okay, so for future reference, four magazines is not enough to kill an entire zombie horde with...oh, who am I kidding? There is no future reference. This is pretty much where it ends. Not with the asshats who've chased me for most of my life, but with some unthinking, unfeeling bunch of creatures. The irony is hilarious and I find myself laughing. I grin wickedly and snatch the knife hanging on my thigh from the sheath, dropping into a classic knife-fighter's stance and awaiting the horde. Come at me, fuckers. I ain't got a thing to lose.