Alex needed to get back to his bike. However, with those things roaming outside, it might be difficult with only his bare hands. Despite being wounded, or rather undead, it seemed like they had impressive strength still; it’d probably be impossible to break free. Alex rubbed his sore shoulders. If I didn’t sacrifice my backpack, I would’ve been…

He shuddered, thinking about it. He’d need some sort of protection; those people were clearly trying to harm him. A wooden broom rested against the wall, but he retracted his hand from picking it up.

“I doubt that would work. If they latch on, I’m done for.”

Alex cupped his elbows as he walked to the right-side door. The adjacent room was thinner and longer. On the left wall, by the opening, had metal shelves packed with various assortments. Alex then moved past that, where a small desk of tan wood struck his attention. His gaze fell on a small, folded note and a holstered handgun that rested gently on top of the desk. He raised both his brows and took a deep breath. The gun looked real; it looked deadly. He took a step back, body swaying. He wasn’t terrified of firearms. After all, Eric owned plenty of them. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing at the sight of them. He cursed under his breath at Eric; the man should’ve taught him how to use one.

“He’s the best marksman in the state; how ironic.” Alex sighed. “You’re on your own in a town full of crazy people. And you have no choice but to use that to survive. What a night.”

But before he did anything, Alex first took hold of the note. The sand-colored paper was rough in texture and worn down, but Alex paid no mind as he unfolded it and began to read.

November first, morning.

I’m all alone. Caitlin ran an’ left me stranded. I’m not infected an’ I know I can still take the freeway to escape. But it’s a long shot. Those things’re out there. Dammit! If anyone reads this, get outta town! This place is infested with zombies!

The rest was blank.

Are those people really zombies? Alex wondered. If they are, then I have no choice. I have to use this.

He placed the paper back down and finally grabbed the holstered gun. The holster was soft, with a belt clip-on and straps to attach to the thigh. He took a quick breath, clipped the two support straps to his thigh, and finally secured the main line to his belt.

So this is it—the real deal. Alex pulled the gun from its attached holster. It was a two-toned handgun; the silver barrel had a black frame underneath. It was sleek in design but had sturdy-looking grips. It wasn’t as heavy as he thought it would be, and he wondered if Eric’s was the same.

I don’t know how many bullets this thing carries, but a gun’s a gun, he thought confidently. Etched into the side of the barrel was the phrase Glock 48. His index finger naturally found its way toward the trigger. His thumb rubbed against the trim line that separated the slide and the frame as he inspected it further.

Eric’s gun had a safety button somewhere, but I don’t see anything similar. And where’s that flicky thing in the back? Alex raised his brow, confused. How do I even use this gun…? Do I pull the trigger? Eric, you ass. He sighed and lowered his head. “Guess I’ll learn as I go. Hopefully, I’ll have time to figure this out.”

Alex slowly entered the next room and exited a long hallway toward the right. But Alex couldn’t venture further. He quickly pinched his nose and gasped. A putrid smell had permeated his nose and mouth. Mixed with the dry scent of mold and probably rotten meat, Alex couldn’t help but gag.

Ugh, what is that?

His head pulsated a bit from the intense, wavy mixture of aroma. Down on the floor, leaning up against the wall, was the corpse of an older, heavier man nestled against the corner. A large, fatal-looking bite was seared into his neck. His shirt was ragged and bloodied; it was impossible to tell its original color. His dark hair covered his lowered face; even so, Alex could see bits of his sunken-in grayish skin. He gulped at the gruesome sight.

That’s a real dead body, he thought. A slight shiver ran up his spine, causing him to tense his shoulders. I hope I don’t end up like you.

Alex slowly looked up and saw a glowing green exit sign pointed behind him. He smirked and turned back. As he did, his face suddenly dropped when he saw a large metal crate blocking the exit door.

“Are you serious?” He groaned out loud. Of course, something’s blocking my way.

Alex shook his head as he walked over. He then positioned himself against the crate. He tried with all the strength he could muster to push the thing. Holding his breath until his face turned pink, Alex switched from using his arms to anchoring his body against it. But nothing worked. The slippery, smooth tile didn’t help either, causing his gray shoes to slide and give way. Finally, he gave up, panting heavily. His thin arms barely made it budge.

Darn it. I need to find another way. Alex turned about and lurched forward, eventually coming up to a T-intersection.

Two ways, he thought. Going along the main path was the better option. The side path likely wouldn’t lead back to the lobby, and he needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. Hopefully, those crazy people were gone, too.

A safe bet. Once he finally reached the corner at the end of the hall, he pressed his back against the wall’s edge, keeping his gun close. A faint, blurry static tickled the shell of his right ear, and with a couple of breaths, Alex whipped around the corner, flicking his weapon out. The leading hall had another dead body resting in the middle of the floor. Behind it was several amounts of luggage blocking him from going through. The body looked like a male police officer wearing a typical blue and black uniform. Though he lay in a thick pool of dark blood, Alex only spotted a few bite marks on his exposed neck. The officer also looked young, as he had a fresh face, short, unkempt hair, and hollow eyes, likely a rookie’s first day on the force.

Alex then looked over and spotted something even more interesting. There was a little brass key clutched by the officer’s hand. I wonder what that unlocks. He took a step closer as the static crackle increased. A small radio on the officer’s belt started to voice a message, though it wavered a bit, likely due to the signal.

“Requesting... backup... south side....”

Alex felt a little lump forming in his throat. I wonder how bad they have it.

“Infected with a... stay alert... bullets... slow....”

The radio finally shut off with a burst of static, allowing silence to fill the air and leave him with his thoughts. I doubt it’ll be easy getting out of the city. I might need to wait until dawn.

Alex carefully knelt down and snatched the radio. It was very light and looked like it still worked. He clipped it to his own belt. Finally, he reached over and snagged the little key as an ominous feeling suddenly washed over him. His heart raced drastically; its thumps grew louder and louder in his ears and throughout his body. Alex quickly stood up and backed away. Maybe this key unlocks a different exit.

Rushing around the corner, going back to the T-intersection, Alex came to a quick halt. His eyes widened, his body stiffened, and his legs felt like lead. Looking forward, a tall, shadowy figure stood swaying in the middle of the hall. It moaned slightly and took a few steps toward him.

What the? Did it really just get back up? Alex’s breathing slowly became erratic. His hand squeezed his Glock handgun until his fingers turned bright red. Within a short moment, that dead guy had covered now a few feet; he was too close for comfort. Alex raised his Glock 48 and aimed it at its chest. But he didn’t shoot. His finger stiffened over the trigger as his arms started to shake.

Shoot! His brain screamed internally.

The horrid groans from it got louder and louder, overtaking the pulsating noise in Alex’s ears. His breathing became uneven as he struggled to fire. The zombie was too close now. Shambling up to him, it was way larger than Alex had thought. Its battered gray skin had several bite marks on the arms and neck. Half of its jaw was broken, and the right side of its face had flesh wholly removed. However, its decrepit white eyes were focused on a singular target.

It lunged without warning, its greedy, rotten fingers curling around Alex’s smaller shoulders. All he could do now was try and push it back. He tried as best he could but was losing ground fast. Alex shut both eyes and clenched his teeth while struggling to stop this monster from biting his throat. The zombie-like man hungrily bemoaned and rapaciously snapped its jaw at the young man; its blood-stained teeth and foul breath burned Alex’s nostrils.

I can’t—hold it off!

Alex’s eyes widened as the zombie lunged in for a bite to his neck when suddenly, a gunshot went off. The aggressor’s strength quickly faded as both collapsed to the floor. Blood splattered as the zombie’s head smacked the ground; tiny bits of flesh sprung out across the floor. The body lay there motionless, how a dead man should be.

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Alex pressed his hand against his chest, feeling his heart pounding. His ears and neck burned a bright red as he caught his breath. But he was alive, thanks to someone standing directly across from him. His dark green eyes soon trailed up to meet his savior’s.

A man had stood before him with light brown eyes and similar-toned crew-cut hair. The front of his hair was neatly gelled up, forming little spikes. Looking closer at his face, the man had a more structured face that showed off young, crescent laugh lines and a chiseled jawline. His nose bridge looked solid and long, with his nostrils being balanced. A small dark shadow molded nicely around his jaw. Alex then skimmed both ears and noticed small, shiny black studs in the lobes. The stranger lowered his gun, allowing Alex to see some impressive biceps and a broad chest. Though they weren’t larger than Eric’s, this guy still looked like he could handle his own.

He wore a tight, gray button-down shirt. It was most likely a uniform, as the name Miller’s Autoworks was embroidered on the left breast pocket. The hem of his button-down was semi-tucked into his belted black jeans.

When he stepped closer, Alex could see that this man towered over him; he had to be six feet at least, probably a few inches taller than what Alex surmised. He hadn’t known many men who were that tall—Eric was only six inches taller than Alex at five-eleven. This dude could break me if he wanted to. Easily. Alex gulped, his face flushed pink.

“You okay?” he whispered to Alex. His deep voice was dry sounding, almost exhausted.

Alex took a much-needed breath. Then he said calmly, “Yeah… I think so.”

“Good. Fucking hell, I didn’t expect another survivor here.”

Despite the corpse bleeding out onto the floor, Alex’s stomach remained still. Alex’s eyes trailed to the rotten corpse. Surprisingly, his stomach remained still as he watched it twitch; dark blood oozed out of the bullet hole. Then, out of the corner of his eye, the stranger walked over to it, and he flinched. The man then kicked it slightly with his work boot. “Dammit, Micky, you shoulda left when I told ya to.”

“Neighbor?” Alex asked.

The stranger turned his head and looked down. “Yeah, he lived in three-B.”

“Sorry.” Alex curled his legs in. He probably shouldn’t have pried.

“Don’t worry, I got ’em. It shouldn’t get up for a while,” the man confirmed, changing the subject.

“Thanks, by the way,” Alex whispered back shyly. His voice, much higher, caused a churning sensation in his stomach.

“No problem. I kinda like being an action man.” The man smirked. “Call me Keaton.” He raised out a hand.

Alex nodded and took it. His scrawny body was easily lifted to his feet. Just the roughness of Keaton’s thicker hand and strength caused Alex’s face to flush red. They were similar to Eric’s, though Keaton’s hands clearly worked on some machinery; Eric, on the other hand, focused more on firearms. His face stayed red as he stuttered to say his own name.

“Hey, I gotta ask....” Keaton suddenly spoke up.

“Yeah?” Alex cleared his throat.

“Why didn’t you shoot ’em? You know they aren’t people, right?”

“I-I know. It’s just…” Alex was at a loss. He didn’t really know this man, yet somehow felt as though explaining his whole life story would justify everything.

I’ll keep it simple, he reasoned in his mind. He should know.

“I uh,” Alex continued, “I don’t really know how to use it.”

“Really?” Keaton cocked a brow and tilted his head slightly to the right.

Alex couldn’t bear the stare; his face tinged red instantly. He backed up, raising his shoulders. “It’s not even mine—I-I found it. I’ve also never really had an interest in them…”

A small chuckle escaped from Keaton’s mouth, prompting Alex’s face to redden even more.

Oh great, now he’s laughing at me.

“Alex, it’s aight. Let me teach you real quick.”

“You sure?”

Keaton waved his hand off. “Of course. Especially when I’ll need you to return the favor, but first, lemme see your gun.” He got closer and gripped the handgun slide, persuading Alex to let go. “Glock 48… single stack, it seems, and it’s lighter than an 18 model.”

“That a good thing?” Alex asked.

Keaton shrugged. “Depends. Well, I guess for you, it’d be okay.”

Then, the man aimed Alex’s gun away and pulled the slide back before pressing a small button on the left side with his thumb. The magazine ejected onto his open hand, and Keaton then checked it quickly. Satisfaction filled his wide smile, and he refilled it and then put the slide back in place. Finally, Keaton handed it back to Alex.

“Your gun carries ten rounds. But there’s only nine bullets left,” he explained.

Alex nodded. Whoever had this gun before already used one. I hope it was on one of those zombies. He tried not to picture the worst.

“I know some of the cops around here use Glocks. We can look for more mags if we find one of their cars.” Keaton said, taking a few steps away.

“Sounds like a good plan,” Alex nodded to his newfound friend. “Oh, wait, what about your gun?”

“Hmm?” Keaton raised his gun upward and showed its left side. His thick hands wrapped around its grip nicely. The weapon itself appeared evened out in his hand. “My boss’s weapon, a standard USP.”

“What’s the difference between ours?”

“Nothing that’d really concern you. So long as you hit your target, all guns work the same.”

Alex paused, placing a finger on his chin; not a moment later, another question popped into his mind. He spoke, “How many bullets can it carry?”

Keaton released the magazine quickly. He then showed Alex its spine, which had fifteen little holes. Most of them had a golden shine; however, only five at the base were blacked out. “It’s not a lot,” he started. “But fifteen should be more than enough—I won’t miss.”

Alex was impressed by Keaton’s confidence, but he knew this man was serious. Given that he was alive, he had no reason to doubt either. And the accuracy, too; it was cool to see another guy aim with such precision. Oh, Eric, you might have a run for your money.

Then, a horrendous snarl bounced off the walls. Alex gasped, glancing from side to side. He didn’t know where it came from, but it sounded close.

“Well shit, I was gonna let you practice on the dead one, but I guess experience is best with one that still moves!” Keaton flicked his head slightly, signaling Alex to face the side hall.

Another zombie stumbled through the hall toward the two. It was a male with shaggy blonde hair and white eyes. The zombie had on a simple sky-blue t-shirt and dark pants. Bite marks across its gray flesh were seen, particularly on its exposed arms and right underneath its jawline. Though taller than Alex, it could barely lift its upper torso as it moved with a limp gait. A horrendous bloody piece of metal rammed into its right thigh. It didn’t even care that it was wounded. Its milky white eyes were set on the pale young man before it.

“W-Wait! I can’t hit a moving one yet!”

“You’ll be okay. I’m right here.”

Alex swallowed, nodded, then pointed his gun.

“Use the gun’s sights to determine the distance and aim for the chest; enough bullets should bring it down.” Keaton stood tall, legs shoulder width apart, with arms folded. “And grip the gun tightly; otherwise, you’ll limp wrist it.”

Alex did as he was told, tightening his grip as he looked down the sights until all three white dots lined up. “Why not the head?”

“You might use more bullets trying to hit a small moving target—nah, it’s safer just to hit the torso,” Keaton explained. “Also, take your time between shots, and only squeeze the trigger once you’re ready to fire.”

“Okay.” Alex teased his handgun’s trigger by slightly pushing the latch back.

“If you’re ready, fire.”

He didn’t know why, but listening to Keaton’s calm voice cleared his head. Alex had no trouble and focused on the limping target. Even with the callous growls hitting his ears, Alex didn’t go astray; he blinked as he inhaled. Then, he finally squeezed the trigger, letting out a loud gunshot.

The bullet burst through the left side of the zombie’s chest, but that didn’t stop the monster. Alex slid his foot back, gasping slightly.

“You’re okay,” whispered Keaton.

Alex nodded, not taking his eyes off the target. Then, he fired his gun again and again. After three rounds, the zombie finally collapsed into an oozing pool of dark blood.

“I got it.” Alex lowered his Glock 48 and glanced up at his friend.

“Nice job.” Keaton smiled widely and stuck his thumbs up. “I think you can take on just about anything.”

Alex’s face reddened, prompting him to glance away. His body jittered excitedly. He wanted to shoot it again—to hit another target. Keaton then took his thick, heavy hand and patted Alex’s back. He gave a curt nod before pulling his hand away. At that moment, Alex wondered why Eric refused to teach him. He almost wished that man did, to at least experience this together.

When I get out of here, I’ll show you. I’ll be just as good as you, Alex thought.

“Ready to get out of here?” Keaton then asked.

“Where to?”

“There’s a shelter about a few blocks away—I’ve been trying to navigate around all this shit, but with Freeman Street being the only way, it’s not been easy. Everything is fucking blocked off with wreckage or police barricades. Hell, even some fires have made alleys inaccessible. “Why must everyone panic in a damn crisis…?” Keaton shook his head and looked away briefly.

“Is that why you’re here then?” Alex questioned.

He raised a brow before letting out a soft chuckle. “Nah, going back home was just on the way to.” He then elaborated further. “I mainly wanted to come back and grab some of my legal documents—important shit, ya know; can’t escape the city without ’em. But just crossing the street from work took a bitch and a half too. Fuck.”

“I see.”

“You live around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face before.”

Alex shook his head. “No, I’m from a town up north.”

“Lucky you.”

“I doubt that,” Alex muttered as he glanced around.

Keaton laughed, his voice rich with vigor. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. With all the noise you’ve made, I’m sure more zombies will come.”

Alex blinked, slightly annoyed. But the grin on Keaton’s face told him to loosen up. Once they were ready, the duo finally headed back toward the blocked exit door.