Guts (the original interactive zombie apocalypse survival story)

47 - The Non-infected

Between following a gun toting stranger whom didn't seem to mind killing people, and the echoing cries of the undead, doom seems to swallow you up into cold hopelessness. It feels like walking to your execution rather than going toward any group of non-infected.

"Where are you taking us?" Paul asks bravely, but he gets ignored.

"Hey, asshole! He said where are you taking us?" Mack says, raising her voice.

The man that looks like Lopez pokes Mack with his gun, and like a flash, she turns on him. She twists his hand somehow so that his gun drops. She catches it and head butts him hard in the nose. Bright red spews from his nostrils and the next thing everyone knows, Mack has the gun pointed right in Lopez's face. He's caught entirely by surprise. Paul uses the same maneuver to take Lopez's gun. At this point, he knows he's outnumbered. He raises his hands as though he's being arrested.

The officer with C. Martinez on his name tag seems torn. His eyes flash back and forth from Mack to Lopez to Paul, all the while resting his hand on his gun in its holster. He doesn't seem to be able to decide on a reaction, so he does nothing.

"I had to do it!" Lopez cries. "Those things change people when they bite them. What was I supposed to do?"

"You don't know. Maybe everyone doesn't change. Maybe he wouldn't have changed..." Paul says.

Lopez laughs. "They all do. We keep seeing it. How else do you think they spread so fast? Trevino, shut the hell up!"

Trevino was holding his gushing nose, alternating shouting things in Spanish and groaning so loud that Lopez's words were hard to hear. He tries to muffle the sound, but continues to complain, tilting his head back.

Paul falters a milk second, the gun falling only slightly, and he lifts it back up. "Everyone?" he asks, unsure.

"Si," Lopez says, nodding his head. "You have to kill them when they're bit or scratched...no matter how small. If it breaks skin, you're as good as dead."

Mack sobs, but she keeps her gun hand steady, trained right on her target.

Paul stares intently at Lopez. "What's going on? Have you heard from other police?"

Lopez doesn't answer, so Paul comes nearer with his gun and presses it to him.

"Have you?" he says louder.

"Chill out, eh? Get that fucking gun out of my face and I will talk to you," Lopez says. They stare off a moment. "Look, I can see you're good people, because you haven't shot us yet. Right? We call truce, eh?"

Paul starts to lower the gun.

"No!" you scream at the last minute, catching something.

Paul seems taken aback, but he takes aim once more. Everyone seems bewildered.

You look at Lopez. "Parker," you say. "A few minutes ago, you called him Parker. His uniform says C. Martinez. Why did you call him Parker?"

Lopez's eyes grow wide. That reaction makes it clear you're onto something. You look from Lopez to Parker waiting for a valid answer. Parker is sweating bullets, but he doesn't reply.