"Go get the guns from the storage area! Quick!" I looked at Charlie,
"Really, already using the guns, shouldn...."
"Logan, go get the guns you idiot!"
Down the stairs I went, creaking and moaning, I opened the door and looked up. There were racks and racks of guns, some of them I recognised from playing Call of Duty. My hands were shaking, because I knew one wrong move with a gun and you'll be dead.
"This one for me," I gently took a MP5 SMG of the wall. I've only shot a gun once, when I was younger with my dad at this hotel called Gleneagles, and at a target, not a real being.
"and this one for Chazzer." I took hold of a big one that I think was an LMG.
Back upstairs I went, back through the 'house' and back to Charlie, who was standing there, looking up and down from me and the guns. I passed him the LMG, panic wiped across his face.
"Right, we need to go round to the side of the building, out the emergency exit and shoot them from their blind side. And wipe them out as quick as you can."
I crouched under the windows, invisible to our fellow friends, and headed towards the side exit.
"Ready when you are!" Charlie looked at me, his hands clasped on the handle of the door. But I felt liked something was wrong, like something was missing.
"Oh shit, shit."
"What, Logan? Logan! What the fuck is going on?"
But before I could answer I sprinted back through the house, back down the stairs and back into the basement. I looked to the left, and I saw what I needed.
"I knew I'd fucking forgot something," I grabbed hold of a few ammo boxes.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
I pulled the trigger, shots zipping through the darkness, hauling themselves at the zombies. As the bullets ripped through the confused bodies, Charlie was screaming at me, but I couldn't hear him. That doesn't mean I could stop, as the zombies were creeping towards us. At the time I think we had cleared at least forty of them, their motionless bodies limping down onto the floor. And then that was it. All of them. Dead. And killed by us. Killed by me.
"What I was trying to tell you is to be fucking careful of the fucking boy. You probably fucking killed him now, you absolute wanker. " Charlie face was stern, his eyes open wide.
"What boy? Where? What... What is.... WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!"
"There was a boy in the mix of all those zombies. Just take a bloody look with me." "Right okay, and there's no need to call me a wanker."
We walked forwards towards the tower of bodies, and then I saw him. There was a boy on the floor, huddled over, crying. He had big tears in his clothes, bruises, cuts and scars, his blood leaking onto the parking lot road.
"Oh god."