"Now remember, Nathan" Stanley grumbled, almost chewing on a ratty looking cigarillo; "The thing about zombies is their numbers, the dumbies ain't gonna outsmart a bright boy like you any day"

Nathan nodded, flicking his Marlboro against the bark of the old Willow tree behind him. "I know grandpa; keep a distance and aim for the head" He cricked his neck as he looked at the small horde, carefully loading the pump-action hunting shotgun his father had rented him. "Sure is a lot for just a midnight snack; you think something bigger is happening here? Maybe a Class 4?"

"Look, the only Class 4 I've ever laid eyes on is when we pulled you outta that cave; and that ain't ever gonna happen again" He spat on the ground; Stanley almost had a way of making his spitting into punctuation. "Now, focus, be quick, and try to not look tasty"

Nathan turned, holding his arms wide with a weary smile spreading across his young face. "Why attempt the impossible?"

"You're impossible, knuckle-head. Git!" Stanley urged, waving his hands towards the horde. He lay down on the grass of the hill, carefully lining up his battered hunting rifle.

Nathan took his grandfather's order and jumped off the hill, landing a little ways towards the undead. He felt the familiar sensation of his blood boiling and a cavernous emptiness in his chest; there was a huge heaping pile of supernatural shit in his location; he could just tell. [i]1, 2, 3, 4[/i] he breathed, blending perfectly into the shadows of the dimly lit graveyard. After 4 he whistled, causing a lot of necrotic necks to suddenly turn. "Hey fellas; could you point me in the direction of the buffet?" He yelled at them. They groaned harrowingly in response and started shuffling towards him. "Ohhh, I'M the buffet. I completely misread this situation"

[i]1, 2, 3, 4[/i] He closed his eyes and breathed more deeply, the cold night air filling his lungs. [i]What is life?[/i] he thought plaintively, [i]1, 2, 3, 4..[/i]. The first zombie was within five strides of him now. [i][b]BOOM[/b][/i]. What once supported a fairly necrotic head was metamorphised into a gushing, bleeding stump. [i]Still got it, Stanley[/i]. Nathan aimed the shotgun, his eyes still closed, [i]1, 2, 3..[/i] His barrel found the right angle. [i]..4[/i]. [i][b]BOOM.[/b][/i]. Three zombies heads were partially destroyed, the spread of the shotgun working in Nathan's favour.

One zombie left. Easy. Nathan approached. He emptied one blast into the creatures legs, ripping them off from the knee down immediately. As the creature tumbled to the floor he held the shotgun with only his right hand extended in front of him, forcing the barrel between the thing's decrepit teeth. "..Erm. Something funny!" [i][b]BOOM[/b][/i]. [i]I must be tired, 'cause that was pretty terrible[/i] Nathan pondered, scratching his chin with his thumb and forefinger. The sound of earth being shifted rapidly became all too obvious and a hand clutched his ankle; it was strong, far stronger than your average walker. Nathan braced his remaining leg and launched himself off the ground - dragging half of the zombie up through the dirt.

It was unlike any undead he'd seen up until that point. Its muscles were hardy and defined, its veins pulsing with a green energy like substance. [i]Necromancy..[/i] Nathan though, suddenly a lot more in over his head than he'd anticipated. He breathed. The zombie had dragged itself from the soft earth, its tattered rags trailing intimidatingly along the ground behind it. With a supernatural speed it lunged at Nathan, flying forwards like a wet flannel. [i]1, 2, 3, 4[/i] Nathan closed his eyes and began to move at an incredible speed, his arm shot up to the creature's neck, his hand getting a firm grip around it. He then kicked at the creature's ankles, using a sweeping motion to knock it from its unbalanced feet - finally, he lifted the walker slightly, then slammed it to the ground, its head hitting a rock Nathan had noticed approximately fourty two seconds before-hand. Its skull shattered like a pane of glass and its unmentionables leaked across the wet grass.

"And where the hell were you?" Nathan shouted at his grandfather, holding up his arms in disbelief.

"Gun jammed. You okay?" A voice called in response.

"For a piece of dessert I'm fine, now let's get out of-"

Five zombies, each as powerful looking as the last sprung from the ground in a circular formation around Nathan. He took out two with his side-arm semi-automatic pistol, but at the end of the day that still left three super-strong brain junkies giving him the eye. He would need more than an old-man with a shitty rifle for this one.