Save Me

"MOVE IT NOW!" Private Cross obeyed that order and instantly began running as hard and fast as he could. They were all that was left now, him and his commanding officer Sergeant Bennett. They were the only ones of their platoon still alive. Now they were sprinting across rain covered rooftops, attempting to outrun the horde of infected behind them. Every few seconds, one of them would turn around and fire a burst from their rifles in an attempt to slow the infected down. But it was no use. They were relentless. Like a wave of blood and rage. Never ceasing.

The two soldiers were still running, but now fatigue was starting to set in. Neither had slept in days. They were nearing the end of the rooftop and the horde was still in pursuit. They stopped at the edge of the roof. Across was a fire escape attached to the building in front of them. They turned and fired what ammo was left in their magazines before taking a run up and jumping across the five foot gap. Cross jumped first. He barely managed to grab onto a railing and pull himself onto the platform. Bennett was next. He took a run up and leaped across the gap. He caught the railing and was now dangling over the side. The fall was high enough to kill him but it didn't need to be. The horde would be on him in a flash and that would be game over. The horde had also attempted to jump onto the fire escape but they could not make it. The infection had seriously affected hand-eye coordination and jumping across a five foot gap seemed to be at the limit of their ability. "Cross! Help me up!" Bennett cried out. Cross looked over the edge of the railing towards the ground. The horde was still alive and very much kicking. Cross attempted to pull Bennett up. "Shit, you're too heavy!" Cross strained out. The rain continued to pound down. "Fuck! I'm slipping!" Bennett screamed. Cross pulled as hard as he could. It felt like his arms were about to be ripped from their sockets. Suddenly a tongue shot up from the alley below and wrapped around Sgt. Bennett's ankle. "Smokers got me!" The smoker instantly pulled hard on Bennett's leg. "I can't hold on!" Cross shouted. Suddenly Bennett slipped from Cross' grasp and was pulled into the infected horde below.

Cross could only watch in horror as the horde began to rip into Bennett in front of him. But Bennett wasn't dead. Not yet. He was too strong for that. He pulled out a grenade and pulled the pin. He hugged it to his chest to wait for its release. The blast shook the fire escape, but Cross could only stare at the spot where his friend used to be. All that was left was body parts and blood, the latter being slowly washed away by the rain. Cross snapped out of his reverie and began to climb the fire escape in search of a window that wasn't boarded up. He got to the last window on the top floor and to his surprise, it was open. He climbed through shut the window behind him. He looked around. It appeared to be a hotel room. He did a quick sweep of the room before leaning against the wall and sinking down to the floor.

'What the hell am I gonna do now?' He thought to himself. He was lost. Alone. He was low on ammunition and supplies. He took off his backpack, helmet, radio and body armour and threw them across the room. He didn't care if he made a lot of noise and attracted the infected. He was a dead man anyway. He thought about that again. 'I am a dead man.' He thought that over and over again. He was going to die here. Not in a far away country on the battlefield like a true warrior, but here. In an American city. Killed by unarmed American civilians. He felt anger rise inside of him. He never feared death. He just hoped his death would be for good cause and mean something. He hoped that IF he had to die, it would be protecting someone. He would die so they didn't have too.

He sat in silence for what felt like days. 'Dad would be so proud to see his son mauled to death by rabid people.' He thought sarcastically. There was only one way out as far as he was concerned. He looked down at the holstered pistol strapped to his right thigh. He slowly unbuttoned the holster and pulled the weapon out. His breathing and heart rate increased significantly. He had never used his pistol in battle. That didn't stop him from keeping it clean and in working condition. He always thought it could mean the difference between life and death in battle. And now it was being used for his death. Cross saw some kind of irony in that. He thought the weapon would be needed to save his life and now it was being used to end it. He checked the magazine. Full. He pulled the slide back and chambered a round. He put the weapon in his mouth and slowed his breathing. This was it. The end of everything. He inhaled sharply and pulled the trigger. Nothing. He pulled again. Nothing. He pulled the weapon out of his mouth and checked it. The safety was on. Cross chuckled slightly at that. "I'm still a fucking rookie!" He shouted to himself. He clicked the safety off and put the gun back in his mouth. He closed his eyes and listened to the rain batter the windows. It was...peaceful. 'This is it. My final act. Father... forgive me.' He half squeezed the trigger...then stopped.

He opened his eyes. He barely heard it, but it was there alright. He took the gun from his mouth once again and listened.

Someone was crying...