Zombies! (Episode 7): Conflicts of Interest by Ivan Turner
Authors: Ivan Turner
Tags: Zombies
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be if he couldn't outrun a group of zombies.
Shawn grabbed hold of Heron's elbow and they began to move away. The going was slow as it was, but Shawn kept looking back and losing his balance.
"Come on, come on," Heron coaxed.
"What about Mr. Arrick?" Arrick had run off in that direction. He'd run straight into the zombie army.
"We can't help him," said Heron.
They began to pick up the pace after that, Heron laboring with Marcus' dead weight. Shawn's legs were weak after his extended period of inactivity. He wasn't really walking, more stumbling or lurching. He looked like one of the undead himself.
A few more steps and the zombies were close enough to smell. This time it was Heron who looked back. The undead were right on top of them. Well, it was just a couple. Those who were less damaged moved faster than the pack and had broken away. Another minute and they'd be close enough to touch.
"Damn it," Heron muttered, then shouted, " God damn it! "
He tossed Shawn a few paces ahead of him and ordered him to keep going. Then he dropped Marcus to the ground and drew his gun. If he used one bullet per zombie, he might have enough. But he'd have to load the spare clip from his jacket in order to do that and he wasn't sure he'd have the time. He took down the two closest with two shots. As they dropped to the ground, he thought of Linda. Poor Linda with her written plea. Were any of these zombies like her? Were they special in some way?
They weren't afraid of guns. That, at least was certain. A few more came into range and he fired on them. One got close enough to reach out and touch him. Panicking, Heron misfired. The bullet took the zombie in the shoulder, knocking it backwards. It gave him enough time to take aim and fire at the head.
I didn't count the shots , Heron suddenly realized. He tried to play it over in his mind. Did he have one bullet left or five? Either way, he didn't have options. The next wave was big, ten at least. He pulled out the old cartridge and slipped in the one from his jacket. If he had the opportunity, he would return to the old one. He was betting that he wouldn't have the opportunity.
"Lieutenant?" came a distant voice. Another cop? Too good to be true.
"Here!" cried Heron. "Hurry!" He started firing again.
From behind him, he heard rushing footsteps. Three officers came up beside him and began firing at the zombies with their rifles. Before long, there wasn't even one still standing. Heron sank to his knees, breathing heavily.
"Are you all right?" one of the officers asked.
Heron shook his head. He was tired and weak and frightened out of his mind. All he wanted was to be in his home and in his bed, curled up next to Alicia. Even if she hated him, it would be a far far better place for him.
***
CULPH went to the first office he could find and began rooting around inside. There was a locker that held a pair of baggy jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. They were both a little bit big but they would do. He stripped off his light pants quickly and redressed himself. He still needed money and was determined to find some. If it was in a safe, he'd be out of luck. He didn't have the time or the expertise to go safecracking. When he finished tearing apart that office, he went on to the next. This was Marcus' office and he found just what he was looking for. Inside one of the deep desk drawers was a strongbox. When he shook it he heard the sound of paper being jostled around. Bingo. There wasn't time to pick the lock or search for a key so he just took it. As he came out of the room, he came face to face with Greg Smith. Smith was moving carefully along the upper walk with a handgun held out in front of him. When Culph appeared, he immediately trained his gun on him.
"How you doing, Greg?" Culph said.
"Frank," Smith answered. "You okay?"
Culph
Shawn grabbed hold of Heron's elbow and they began to move away. The going was slow as it was, but Shawn kept looking back and losing his balance.
"Come on, come on," Heron coaxed.
"What about Mr. Arrick?" Arrick had run off in that direction. He'd run straight into the zombie army.
"We can't help him," said Heron.
They began to pick up the pace after that, Heron laboring with Marcus' dead weight. Shawn's legs were weak after his extended period of inactivity. He wasn't really walking, more stumbling or lurching. He looked like one of the undead himself.
A few more steps and the zombies were close enough to smell. This time it was Heron who looked back. The undead were right on top of them. Well, it was just a couple. Those who were less damaged moved faster than the pack and had broken away. Another minute and they'd be close enough to touch.
"Damn it," Heron muttered, then shouted, " God damn it! "
He tossed Shawn a few paces ahead of him and ordered him to keep going. Then he dropped Marcus to the ground and drew his gun. If he used one bullet per zombie, he might have enough. But he'd have to load the spare clip from his jacket in order to do that and he wasn't sure he'd have the time. He took down the two closest with two shots. As they dropped to the ground, he thought of Linda. Poor Linda with her written plea. Were any of these zombies like her? Were they special in some way?
They weren't afraid of guns. That, at least was certain. A few more came into range and he fired on them. One got close enough to reach out and touch him. Panicking, Heron misfired. The bullet took the zombie in the shoulder, knocking it backwards. It gave him enough time to take aim and fire at the head.
I didn't count the shots , Heron suddenly realized. He tried to play it over in his mind. Did he have one bullet left or five? Either way, he didn't have options. The next wave was big, ten at least. He pulled out the old cartridge and slipped in the one from his jacket. If he had the opportunity, he would return to the old one. He was betting that he wouldn't have the opportunity.
"Lieutenant?" came a distant voice. Another cop? Too good to be true.
"Here!" cried Heron. "Hurry!" He started firing again.
From behind him, he heard rushing footsteps. Three officers came up beside him and began firing at the zombies with their rifles. Before long, there wasn't even one still standing. Heron sank to his knees, breathing heavily.
"Are you all right?" one of the officers asked.
Heron shook his head. He was tired and weak and frightened out of his mind. All he wanted was to be in his home and in his bed, curled up next to Alicia. Even if she hated him, it would be a far far better place for him.
***
CULPH went to the first office he could find and began rooting around inside. There was a locker that held a pair of baggy jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. They were both a little bit big but they would do. He stripped off his light pants quickly and redressed himself. He still needed money and was determined to find some. If it was in a safe, he'd be out of luck. He didn't have the time or the expertise to go safecracking. When he finished tearing apart that office, he went on to the next. This was Marcus' office and he found just what he was looking for. Inside one of the deep desk drawers was a strongbox. When he shook it he heard the sound of paper being jostled around. Bingo. There wasn't time to pick the lock or search for a key so he just took it. As he came out of the room, he came face to face with Greg Smith. Smith was moving carefully along the upper walk with a handgun held out in front of him. When Culph appeared, he immediately trained his gun on him.
"How you doing, Greg?" Culph said.
"Frank," Smith answered. "You okay?"
Culph
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