This Would Be Paradise (Book 2)-A Zombie Novel

Chapter 8

Roy clipped one of the infected on our way out, spinning it like top towards the hard tarmac.

"Shit!"

Tim was hanging out the passenger window again, shooting while Karla drove. He was rather good that I had to admit.

"You think you're ready to do that?" Roy asked, sounding like he was only half joking.

"I'm going to go with, hell no." With my luck I'd fall out and break something this time.

"We can't bring the sick ones back with us," Roy gripped the wheel until his knuckles went white, his forehead crinkled.

"I could probably do some damage if you stopped near the infected," I suggested.

"But Tim is still moving," Roy argued.

"So? Do you want to help or not? We're not doing any good just following behind them, unless you plan to play a game of hit and run with the infected!" I had to control the laughter that was threatening.

His lips formed a hard line, but he stopped the truck. There were infected all over this road. We must have intercepted them on their way to the golf range. I hit the button and my window rolled down. I leaned out the window so I was sitting on the ledge, my gun and elbows resting on the top of the cabin. I let out a few bursts, taking out the closest ones. Having a surface to prop the gun on helped with my aim immensely as it took some of the weight off.

One of the infected I shot went flying back so hard, its feet lifted off the ground. This gun definitely had some power. Roy had rolled down his own window and was starting to shoot at the ones on his side. His aim wasn't horrible, but he was wasting half the bullets he shot. When everything was still around us, I crawled back into the cabin.

"Shit, Tim's gone," Roy muttered.

"Whatever, we'll catch up," I motioned for him to go.

The street was lined with dead infected from Tim's drive-by shooting. So we just followed the fallen. We took a right and saw that Karla had stopped the truck and Tim was shooting all around. The majority of the infected were grouped here, like they were travelling in packs. Roy pulled up a few car lengths away and he jumped out to help. I propped myself out the window and on the roof again, liking the stability it created.

I had to focus on not just leaving my finger on the trigger, but rather releasing it for controlled bursts like Tim had said. I stopped counting the downed infected at ten. This gun was killer, in all sense of the word. And I had just become infinitely more dangerous with it. It was kind of intoxicating.

My ears rang with the echoes of the automatic gunfire long after we had stopped shooting. Tim looked back at us.

"Alright, let's head back," he yelled across the distance.

I stuffed myself back into the cabin, removing the empty magazine. It was hot and I had to set it down, along with the muzzle of the gun I had pointed to the floor. We drove the rest of the way in silence until we were parked back in the lot behind the apartment.

"That was some good shooting," Roy praised.

"Thanks," I shrugged it off.

"Were you ever a team Capitan or anything?" Roy asked, out of the blue.

I knocked my head back, "Ah, no?" He had thrown me for a loop with his random question.

He smiled, "You just seem to be good at taking the lead, that's all."

He exited the vehicle without any more to say, leaving me to think about his words. I never saw myself as a leader, especially lately with John taking the forefront. Was I unconsciously doing it?