Post by Rock114 on Jan 11, 2014 23:26:02 GMT
He turned as quickly as he could while in his prone position, and scampered back toward Conner, who was still firing his rifle at the bandits. Quickly turning back to the firefight as he settled into his new farther back position, Roman’s heart skipped a beat. Five more bandits had emerged from the trees, and were now advancing across the river to the sandbar, while the remaining two covered them, the assault rifle barking rapid fire death over every inch of the battlefield. In a line, stretching at least twenty feet wide, they advanced swiftly, making for the sandbar, and a better position on Roman and Conner. But there was no cover on the sandbar: only Beth.
Conner took a shot, and one of the bandits crossing the river stopped dead in his tracks. He clutched at his chest as Roman brought his pistol up and fired in unison with Conner. Their rounds sent the stationary attacker flying backward on impact, and he twitched in the dirt, slowly going still as his comrades advanced, oblivious or uncaring of his plight.
Before he could select another target, John’s voiced broke through the din of the gunfire. “Beth! No! Behind you! TURN AROUND!” Roman followed his friend’s gaze, John pointing frantically all the while, as he saw what was happening. From Beth’s left, making its way undetected over the deafening cacophony of the shootout toward her was a walker. It must have waded through the shallow parts of the river once the shooting started. Or had it been lying under the water all along? Can they do that? “Cover me! I’m going for her!”
Roman didn’t even have time to think of a witty way to say “No” before John vaulted up, one hand on his wound, the other gripping his pistol, firing as he made his way through the chaos. Unable to protest, Roman let loose a barrage of nine millimeter slugs at the hostile group, slowing their advance as they dropped down to avoid his fire. Just as John reached Beth, their assailants rose up, almost as one, and opened fire. Conner cried out as Roman heard a soft fwip fwip noise that could only be bullets passing through flesh.
Rushing to him, Roman caught him right before he fell. A bullet had torn through his friend’s neck, stripping away most of the skin on the left side. He tried to speak, but all that came out were choked gasps. He gripped Roman’s sleeve tightly as he drowned in his own blood, much of it spilling from his body and drenching Roman’s hands. The second shot had gone into his stomach and Conner’s other hand covered it in a vain effort to halt the blood flow. Roman bit his lower lip, unable to do anything but watch. Using what little breath he had left, Conner got out one word from between clenched teeth; “FUBAR…” His comrade’s eyes rolled back in his head followed a second later by the hand gripping Roman’s jacket going limp and falling away.
Wasting no time, Roman snatched up Conner’s rifle. He ducked low as more bullets zipped through air inches above his head, and rummaged through Conner’s pockets for spare ammunition. Grabbing as many of the loose bullets as he could, he began desperately loading as many as he could into his new weapon. He shoved the two spares into his pocket, determined to use them before this was over.
Lying down once more, he sighted down the barrel. The advancing bandits had reached the sandbar now, and were taking up positions. Beth was still over there, as was John. The quiet man he usually acted like was gone, soft eyes hardened under his tarnished glasses. He held his homemade spear, little more than a stick with a small knife tied to the end, plunging it into the walker’s chest and driving it to the ground. In order to dispatch the creature, he’d had to stand up. The raiders had seen him.
There was no time to think about that, however, as a cold certainty suddenly burned itself into Roman’s mind: he was going to die here. The realization, contrary to what he had thought it would feel like, was somewhat soothing. He had no illusions of survival; no frantic instincts dictating that he flee. Just the determination to go down swinging.
Things suddenly became clear for him. The bullets snapping by within inches of his body no longer worried him. He tuned everything out, focusing on the only thing that mattered right now: killing as many of these assholes as he could before they got him. In another situation, he might have reflected on how true his brother’s words had been over a decade ago, before the world went to hell. That however he’d die, it would be young and with a fight. That he was too stubborn to accept anything else.
This situation was different. There was no time for remembering the words of those that were long dead. He took a shot at one of the bandits sprinting up the right side of the sandbar, and the man spun halfway around from the impact of the bullet. Roman imagined a pained expression on his target’s face as he fired again, this time the bullet passing through the man’s back, impacting him a few inches away from a small, pink backpack that he had been wearing. Not exactly the most intimidating thing he’d seen in the last two years, but he doubted that anything would have fazed him with his newfound clarity and focus. One more shot, and the dirty-haired man was on the ground, lying on his side, not moving.
Bringing the rifle around, he chose his next target and squeezed the trigger. He had been aiming at one of the bandits on the sandbar. The gunman’s arm was extended, revolver in hand as he took aim at John. Beth attempted to shield him, when the attacker’s and Roman’s guns went off simultaneously. Roman’s shot hit the man’s hand, causing him to drop his weapon as blood began pouring from the new hole in his palm. Beth doubled over, groaning as the bandit’s bullet burrowed through her chest and out her back. The wounded shooter clutched his bloody palm against his own chest, giving Roman a death glare while it began to spasm.
Roman cursed at himself for not putting the man down in time. Chambering another round, he prepared to fire again when a blinding, hot pain lanced through his side. He began to lose feeling in his body, the adrenaline slowly giving way to an icy numbness. Quizzically looking down at the hole in his jacket, leaking blood, his legs gave out from beneath him. The world began spinning, fading to black amid the sounds of gunfire and shouting. Before the darkness overtook him completely, he felt the impact of his face in the dirt, and let out a deep breath as he slipped into merciful oblivion.
Conner took a shot, and one of the bandits crossing the river stopped dead in his tracks. He clutched at his chest as Roman brought his pistol up and fired in unison with Conner. Their rounds sent the stationary attacker flying backward on impact, and he twitched in the dirt, slowly going still as his comrades advanced, oblivious or uncaring of his plight.
Before he could select another target, John’s voiced broke through the din of the gunfire. “Beth! No! Behind you! TURN AROUND!” Roman followed his friend’s gaze, John pointing frantically all the while, as he saw what was happening. From Beth’s left, making its way undetected over the deafening cacophony of the shootout toward her was a walker. It must have waded through the shallow parts of the river once the shooting started. Or had it been lying under the water all along? Can they do that? “Cover me! I’m going for her!”
Roman didn’t even have time to think of a witty way to say “No” before John vaulted up, one hand on his wound, the other gripping his pistol, firing as he made his way through the chaos. Unable to protest, Roman let loose a barrage of nine millimeter slugs at the hostile group, slowing their advance as they dropped down to avoid his fire. Just as John reached Beth, their assailants rose up, almost as one, and opened fire. Conner cried out as Roman heard a soft fwip fwip noise that could only be bullets passing through flesh.
Rushing to him, Roman caught him right before he fell. A bullet had torn through his friend’s neck, stripping away most of the skin on the left side. He tried to speak, but all that came out were choked gasps. He gripped Roman’s sleeve tightly as he drowned in his own blood, much of it spilling from his body and drenching Roman’s hands. The second shot had gone into his stomach and Conner’s other hand covered it in a vain effort to halt the blood flow. Roman bit his lower lip, unable to do anything but watch. Using what little breath he had left, Conner got out one word from between clenched teeth; “FUBAR…” His comrade’s eyes rolled back in his head followed a second later by the hand gripping Roman’s jacket going limp and falling away.
Wasting no time, Roman snatched up Conner’s rifle. He ducked low as more bullets zipped through air inches above his head, and rummaged through Conner’s pockets for spare ammunition. Grabbing as many of the loose bullets as he could, he began desperately loading as many as he could into his new weapon. He shoved the two spares into his pocket, determined to use them before this was over.
Lying down once more, he sighted down the barrel. The advancing bandits had reached the sandbar now, and were taking up positions. Beth was still over there, as was John. The quiet man he usually acted like was gone, soft eyes hardened under his tarnished glasses. He held his homemade spear, little more than a stick with a small knife tied to the end, plunging it into the walker’s chest and driving it to the ground. In order to dispatch the creature, he’d had to stand up. The raiders had seen him.
There was no time to think about that, however, as a cold certainty suddenly burned itself into Roman’s mind: he was going to die here. The realization, contrary to what he had thought it would feel like, was somewhat soothing. He had no illusions of survival; no frantic instincts dictating that he flee. Just the determination to go down swinging.
Things suddenly became clear for him. The bullets snapping by within inches of his body no longer worried him. He tuned everything out, focusing on the only thing that mattered right now: killing as many of these assholes as he could before they got him. In another situation, he might have reflected on how true his brother’s words had been over a decade ago, before the world went to hell. That however he’d die, it would be young and with a fight. That he was too stubborn to accept anything else.
This situation was different. There was no time for remembering the words of those that were long dead. He took a shot at one of the bandits sprinting up the right side of the sandbar, and the man spun halfway around from the impact of the bullet. Roman imagined a pained expression on his target’s face as he fired again, this time the bullet passing through the man’s back, impacting him a few inches away from a small, pink backpack that he had been wearing. Not exactly the most intimidating thing he’d seen in the last two years, but he doubted that anything would have fazed him with his newfound clarity and focus. One more shot, and the dirty-haired man was on the ground, lying on his side, not moving.
Bringing the rifle around, he chose his next target and squeezed the trigger. He had been aiming at one of the bandits on the sandbar. The gunman’s arm was extended, revolver in hand as he took aim at John. Beth attempted to shield him, when the attacker’s and Roman’s guns went off simultaneously. Roman’s shot hit the man’s hand, causing him to drop his weapon as blood began pouring from the new hole in his palm. Beth doubled over, groaning as the bandit’s bullet burrowed through her chest and out her back. The wounded shooter clutched his bloody palm against his own chest, giving Roman a death glare while it began to spasm.
Roman cursed at himself for not putting the man down in time. Chambering another round, he prepared to fire again when a blinding, hot pain lanced through his side. He began to lose feeling in his body, the adrenaline slowly giving way to an icy numbness. Quizzically looking down at the hole in his jacket, leaking blood, his legs gave out from beneath him. The world began spinning, fading to black amid the sounds of gunfire and shouting. Before the darkness overtook him completely, he felt the impact of his face in the dirt, and let out a deep breath as he slipped into merciful oblivion.