(^^Main Character)

I strained to catch a glimpse at whoever was making all that noise.

I was hiding out in an abandoned duplex apartment at the edge of a series of apartment blocks. It was separated from the other apartments, with only one neighboring room, but still close enough to the two lane street outside to make for a quick get away.

The jarring gunshots grew louder.

Less than a second later, two vehicles appeared. The first car, which appeared to be getting chased, was a dingy green Mitsubishi with copious amounts of sun damage.

From what I could see, there were at least two people in the Mitsubishi; possibly male.

The pursuing vehicle was a large white pickup truck that had a crooked triangle with three white dots inside of it painted on the side. I couldn't tell the exact number of people in the truck but it looked to be pretty full as an extra passenger rode in the cargo bed. The extra passenger was currently reloading his shotgun and wore a black bandana over his mouth.

As the pair of cars got closer, I could faintly hear hooting and jeering coming from the white truck. One of the passenger riders even had his window rolled down and was banging on the side of the car like a lunatic.

They obviously weren't worried about making too much noise.

To my displeasure, the white truck managed to catch up with the Mitsubishi and abruptly smashed it's front grill against the Mitsubishi's bumper aggressively, practically rear ending the smaller car.

I didn't wince at the grinding sound and impact of the two metals clashing together. Nor at the shotgun rounds that echoed off of the apartments.

The Mitsubishi skidded for a moment, as the driver did his or her best to keep from losing control of the car. The tires screeched, leaving skid marks on the cement road. The driver must have known what they were doing because they somehow kept that little car on the ground.

Most people would have surely ran off the road by now.

Although, the white truck wasn't quite finished.

The larger vehicle surged forward once more and slammed even harder against the Mitsubishi, catching the sides of its back wheel and promptly tearing off the fender. I watched passively as the driver of the Mitsubishi failed this time to keep the car steady. There was no way the driver could have recovered from a blow like that anyway.

The Mitsuibishi veered to the right before running into the curb, narrowly missing a light post, before flipping over onto its side. A few yards further and the vehicle would have tumbled into a shallow ravine near the fence. I would have considered them lucky if it weren't for the fact that the getaway car was now totaled with no chance of escape.

The white tuck skidded to a sudden stop, almost chucking the male in the cargo bed. I wasn't rooting for anyone but I had a feeling that the people in white truck weren't necessarily the good guys in this ordeal.

Not to say that the people in Mitsubishi were entirely innocent either.

I absently picked up the handgun that I'd placed on the window sill earlier.

It felt warm in my cold fingers.

One of the people in the overturned Mitsubishi managed to crawl through the broken windshield. The light post blocked some of my view but I managed to catch a look at one of the Mitsubishi's occupants.

It was a young man, maybe a year or two younger than me, in his early twenties. He had a mop of curly brown hair and fairly tanned skin but I couldn't make out any of his face outside of it being youthful. He wore a thick leather jacket, probably more for protection than warmth. The young male sluggishly retrieved a gun on his side before gathering his bearings and firing several rounds at the white truck as the opposing five occupants began to approach.

The bullets were not well aimed but they were enough to get the five to make a slight retreat. One bullet did successfully hit an incoming infected several yards away that crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

I brushed a black strand of hair behind my ear as I strained for a better look. It was almost exciting to watch.

The young male was struggling to open the driver side door which was facing upwards. I only saw his face clearly for a half a second but I could clearly see the desperation etched onto his features. He looked close to passing out as he wrestled to drag out his driving companion, narrowly missing a spray of gunfire from the opposing side.

I hardly got a glimpse at the driver as he fell to the ground safely behind the Mitsubishi. He looked a bit older, approaching his thirties perhaps. He had equally messy hair that stuck up in all directions but was straw blond instead of brown.

The older male cradled his left arm in pain before quickly drawing his gun to shoot at an incoming zombie. The people at the white truck began to draw closer as they probably realized that they'd need to end things quickly if they wanted a chance of escaping the infected. The two behind the Mitsubishi tried in vain to keep the others away but it would only be a matter of time before they were overwhelmed by either the opposers or the infected.

I almost felt tempted to assist the pair.

There was a nagging feeling in the back of my mind.

The sort of feeling that a normal person might sense while watching an unfair fight.

I didn't like the feeling but for some reason it didn't go away.

I didn't swat at the fly when it zoomed past my ear and toward the window in hope of escape.

Without haste, I glanced back at the small living room behind me. The noose I'd crudely crafted hung limply from the opposite corner nearr .

I still had a small stash of leftover chemical weapons upstairs, kept in thick rubber balloons, that were left over from my prior crusade against the infected. Essentially, I had pretty much taken water balloon fights to a whole new level.

There was also an AR-15 laying dormantly on the floor, just to the left of the noose, that I'd found in a sports and outdoor store a few months ago. I still had two rounds of ammo for the semi automatic weapon and it would have been a shame if they went unused. My own truck was located just below the balcony with the sunroof purposefully open so that I could hop from the balcony and slip inside for a quick escape.

I had the necessary tools and capability to go down there and end things quickly. The only thing standing in my way was myself.

I made one last look at the noose hanging idly from the ceiling. I probably imagined it, since I'd taken one too many vicodin earlier that day, but I swear that rope seemed to shift backwards slightly. As if a sudden draft had swept through the room.

Why did I have to be a half decent person?

I exhaled loudly through my nose before crossing the room and picking up the AR-15 from the ground. I'd tucked the hand gun into my waistband before whisking the last set of chemical weapons from the cabinet upstairs and slipping on a gas mask that I'd taken off of a zombie who must have been apart of a SWAT team. I took his kevlar body suit too, which was now badly discolored from being soaked in bleach and water for a few days.

However, it was still mostly bullet proof and did a fabulous job at protecting my skin and concealing my scent.

I almost never took it off.

As I slid open the balcony, I came to realize something.

This could be a good way to finally die.