Okay. Last of it. Don't read it though. It's crap.
Again, just uploading this to the net because I'm sitting on my dad's computer.
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Louis got roped by a smoker later that day. I hate the fucking smokers. Louis was dragged through a group of infected before Bill managed a potshot that seperated the tongue and Louis and I finished off the infected before we hightailed it out of that building. We've been slowly working our way from building to building trying to find other survivors or any word of a rescue attempt. I've read a lot about how the Army is leaving us, or this is our 'punishment,' but that is all bullshit. I have to believe that it's bullshit or I might be eating this fucking gun. I can't stand it sometimes. It's only the comraderie of these two men and myself that keeps me alive. Well, that and Louis' machine gun.
I keep hearing crying in some of the buildings that we pass through and by. Bill tells me to ignore it, but won't elaborate when I ask him why. One time I almost went looking for the source of the crying, but got the wind knocked out of me by Bill tackling me to the ground.
"It's the witch, idiot! How the fuck do you think my wife died?" He said when he yelled at me in the safe room. "The witch would tear your head off and feed you to the fucking infected!" his voice broke at the end of the sentence and he turned away from Louis and I. I couldn't look at his grief, it reminded me that I hadn't even thought of Jason in days and my vision began to blur. I looked away from the group as well and turned to look at all the memorials scrawled on the wall, but that didn't make the pain go away. I felt a hand on my arm and turned to see Louis behind me. I turned into him and began to softly cry into his shoulder. He comforted me with soft words, but I needed the release. Once I had cried out, I cleaned myself up and decided to stop reading the walls of the safe rooms.
The last addition to the group was hard won. We found him in a pub surrounded by dead infected and drinking a glass of warm beer. The shotgun on the bar next to him looked like it had seen better days, but was still well cared for. He had it trained on us when we entered the bar, and after giving us the stink eye, he returned it to the bar, well within his reach if we tried anything funny.
"They ain't comin' for us." He said in his gruff voice.
"How do you know that?" Louis asked.
He didn't reply, he just brought the glass to his lips again.
I sat at the bar as well while Louis and Bill searched the place for supplies. I looked at the rough man and wanted to ask him how he got here, but I don't think he would have answered.
"Take a fucking picture, sugar tits. It'll last you longer."
"Excuse me?" I replied.
"What are you doing running around with that bag of bones and the mud shark?"
"Mud shark?" I asked.
"You know, Porch monkey...Dope dealing ghetto ape...The nigger!"
"They are the only things keeping me alive." I was appalled that racism could survive the outbreak.
He smirked at that reply but didn't say anything further.
Bill and Louis came back with a few supplies. I noticed the look in the man's eyes and knew what it meant, but I didn't say anything. We were preparing to leave when I heard a scuffling from overhead. It was almost too late when I noticed that there was a hole in the ceiling near the stranger, and heard the gurgling, burping sound of a..
"Oh FUCK! BOOMER!" I screamed and pulled by handguns forward.
Bill and Louis both armed themselves as well, but it didn't stop the Boomer from exploding slime all over the strange man. I got a little sprayed as well, but I was more worried about the horde that all that gunk was going to attract. I strained my ears to listen, and I heard the scratching of claws and feet that could only mean one thing.
The first of the infected burst through the window behind the rough man and dragged him off of his stool, away from his shotgun. We began delivering it's daily dose of lead when more came through the door we entered and started pawing at me. Bill pulled me further away from the horde of infected and we both were shooting at the group that surged through the portal. Louis was focusing on getting the mass of monsters off of the stranger, who had pulled two handguns out of his clothing and was attempting to help his rescue.
I broke away from the group and grasped for the shotgun still on the bar. I split second later I heard the horrible screaming of a Hunter and saw the slight figure leaping through the doorway we had just cleared. In a gut reaction, I turned toward the Hunter tilted the shotgun slightly upward and pulled the trigger. It caught the Hunter mid-leap and blew the side of his head off. It fell in a heap next to the dead infected.
Louis walked over to help the strange man to his feet. I glared at him as Louis reached down a hand. He looked sheepishly at me, and grasped the proffered hand to get to standing. After walking over to me to take his shotgun back; a little forcefully I must say, my finger still hurts; he turned around to the group.
"Francis," he said, introducing himself. We each introduced ourselves in turn.
Louis came forward and said, "You want out of this hellhole?"
Francis cocked his shotgun and nodded.
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