Carlisle sprinted toward the police station, Landon following close behind. Landon was getting tired. He had been running for about an hour. It had happened this way because in the middle of one of his rants, when he drove over an old police road strip. After that, the moans started. Carlisle looked over his shoulder, and saw Landon, who stopped and leaned against a building.
“Come on!” he growled. Landon just stood there. Carlisle looked in his pack. “Ok. Take your shotgun. Put it on your back.” Carlisle dumped out the contents. “Use this AK-74. It has a short barrel and a laser sight, so it will be hard to miss.” He threw the old hunting rifle out, and situated the necessary ammo in the bag.
“What about you?” asked Landon, who could see Carlisle was exhausted. Carlisle opened his mouth, but closed it.
“Okay.” Carlisle opened his bag, and took out a Smith & Wesson 500 revolver. He placed it in one of the pit holsters. In the other, he placed a Taurus .50 raging bull. In thigh holsters, he put a pair of .50 desert eagles. Instead of thigh holsters, he had ammo pouches for the pistols, and on his shins he had clip depositories. In the belt, he kept an original Berretta M9 pistol. Lastly, he grabbed an AK-47 with synthetic furniture and green laser sight, along with a flashlight. He ripped open the pouches, and threw the .44 ammo into a pile in the street. He kept the .50, the 9mm, the .308, the 12 gauge, and the 7.62x39mm ammo for the AK. With the unnecessary stuff gone, Carlisle hoisted up the duffle bag, and let Landon have a rest.
Carlisle stopped in his tracks, and motioned for Landon to move to the side of the road. There had to have been at least three hundred of them. All surrounding a school bus with about five people in it, all of them standing on the roof. Carlisle slung the AK on his shoulder, and replaced it with the Steyr Scout. Quietly, he sniped off a few of the zombies, making sure that they didn’t figure out where the shots were being fired from.
Landon moved beside him, and helped him as much as he could with the AK-74. Carlisle handed the Steyr to Landon, and drew his Mossberg. He fired off a shot, and took one of the dead fucks out. The people also saw him, and they too started to pick off the rotters so as to make a path. One by one, they jumped down and snuck away, the majority of the crowd following Carlisle.
“Quickly! Follow me!” he screamed over the moans. The group obeyed, eager to get out of the pile of shit that they were standing upon. Landon jumped out behind the bushes, and tossed Carlisle his rifle. Carlisle placed it on his back with his shotgun, and took out the AK, which was ideal for escapes. The leader of the group sprinted over. She was a thin, tall woman, with semi short black hair. She was pale, and though Carlisle hated to admit it, he would tap that any day.
“Who are you?” she asked. He responded with a quick, get the fuck over here. She rolled her eyes, motioning for her group to come forward. Landon met them in mid run, and tossed Carlisle the bag. He hoisted it above his head, and pumped a powerful stride to keep up with the group. Just as he started to feel light with fatigue, he spotted a helicopter landing on top of a building about half a mile away…