"Where is she?"
"I don't know…I think she was thrown somewhere..."
"We have to go back for her."
"No! Do you see that horde? We have to escape while we still can!"
"But we're a team!"
"He's right, we can't go back. There's no way she's alive now. If we go back we will just get ourselves killed."
"There's more coming. Let's go!"
The voices were beginning to fade. She knew who they were, and could even faintly distinguish between them. Louis wanted to go back, Francis did not. Bill was the voice of reason. And here was Zoey, lying on the ground nearing death.
She almost didn't make it. She could feel the earth shaking, that was always a sign, but still the tank took her by surprise. It approached her first, she didn't even see it coming, and it threw her down. She felt the instant pain as she landed wrongly on her leg. She knew it had broken. But still the tank was not through with her. It knew she was still alive and ran back. She aimed her gun and fired. At first she was very rusty with the weapons, but now after all this time, it became second nature to her. But the tank was strong. It roared in her face, seemingly unaffected by the bullets piercing its thick skin. It picked her up once again and threw her, harder, farther.
She landed in grass; it cushioned her fall a bit, but still she screamed in agony when she hit the ground. She must have broken something else, but she couldn't tell, there was too much pain. She could barely think, barely breathe, and still there was no time. There were so many infected in this area, they saw her fall and ran towards her, their eyes filled with fury.
She almost gave up, knowing there was not much hope. Every breath she inhaled felt like knives going into her lungs. Maybe it was the will power inside her. Maybe it was the fact that she had been fighting so long, she might as well keep going until the end. Whatever it was, she pulled out her pistol (she had dropped her submachine gun when she was thrown) and fired. She shot at all the ugly infected faces she could see, all the bodies kicking and punching at her. Things were starting to get blurry but still she fired. She wanted them all dead; either they died, or she did.
After a few moments of blind firing and reloading, she felt nothing more attacking. She could barely move, but still she tried. She turned her head, one way, then the other way, and saw…nothing. They were gone. But how? There were so many. She glanced around herself. She was lying in a pool of blood, no doubt her own, and she was surrounded by bodies. Somehow, she had killed them all. She was amazed, for a moment, at the fact that she had succeeded, and the fact that her skill was improving. But this only lasted for a moment; the adrenaline that had replaced the pain was gone, and she realized she was in the middle of nowhere, bleeding, dying. She had killed some of the infected, but there were more coming, as there always was.
Maybe I'll just close my eyes, she thought to herself. Maybe I'll already be dead by the time they show up.
With that thought, she did. She closed her eyes, and within moments she was out, floating in a peaceful, painless, darkness.