𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬

- Chapter 6 -

The gunshots echoed deafeningly in the training room, piercing through the rubber targets. My fingers shook, as I touched the trigger of the shotgun. The shallow breathing of mine only got louder, and I tried shutting off the yellings around me.

Allie, this isn't your first time. You can do it. Just pull the trigger.

Finally, I did. The bullet flew, bell - like ringing reaching up to my ears. The target swung backwards before moving back to its original position and I dropped my gun.

"Not bad, Allie."

I turned, my body facing Jake. I wiped the sweat from my temple with the sleeve of my shirt and shrugged. "Kana and Chase would disagree."

"Well," He began, stepping down the tiny step and walking towards the target I shot. "The hit shoulder wouldn't stop the Infected from ripping you apart, but it would slow them down...so that's good!"

I looked at him bemused. His smile reached up to his eyes, revealing his dimples."You are not funny."

"Everyone would disagree."

He moved towards me, taking the gun out of my grip. He positioned his body, aligning it with mine. I could feel him breathing. It was steady, unbothered, confident. I took a good look at his face. His eyes were frozen on mine as he pointed the gun at the target. He raised his eyebrows in a challenging mock and pressed the trigger. Effortlessly, the bullet hit the head.

"That's how you do it."

I rolled my eyes. It was my turn to take the gun out of his hand. "I'm not good at shooting."

"Well, you need to learn because if you are going out there, it'll be essential to survive."

"I know that." I muttered, ignoring the feeling of dread that was bubbling in me.

I pointed the gun straight ahead. As I was about to shoot again, he put his hand on my shoulder. I froze, breath catching in my throat. The warmth of his hand was spreading through my silky white shirt. I lowered the weapon down, controlling my breathing.

"You are focusing too much," He commented. I could barely hear it. I focused on his hand, the weight of it, the weight that was spreading throughout my body. "You are overthinking it. Just shoot."

"I'm not overthinking it." I denied, shaking the feeling his warm hand gave me. I closed one of my eyes, waiting to shoot again.

"You are," Jake argued. I looked at the target, my heartbeat increasing. I tried to shut off Jake's words. "You won't be able to overthink when the Infected is about to attack you. You shoot, and you shoot until you are safe."

"I'm not overthinking it," I stood firmly, shaking my head. His hand dropped, and he took a couple of steps away. "You're wrong."

I released the grip on the trigger, and shot again. This time, the bullet barely hit the target. The scrape was at the bottom of the rubber dummy, the bullet on the floor. I gave out a frustrated sigh, brushing the hair out of my face. The dread I frantically pushed down started coming to the surface.