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Post by England on Mar 14, 2012 16:31:11 GMT -5
Taking a running jump at the fence, England grabbed onto it and scaled it, making sure to shake it more than necessary to attract attention. It seemed to work because most of the rotten eyes had turned to him, their owners moaning as they left the front of the warehouse to go where England had dropped down on the grass.
Brushing himself off, England clicked the safety of America's pistol off and took aim. The zombies were a bit further away, so he took the time to steady himself and shot one in the head. The others trampled over it as they kept advancing.
"I have to get them somewhere in the open, where America can get a clear shot at them..." he whispered to himself, shooting another one as he stepped back. Unfortunately, the only source of light was the moon, so England hoped that it would be enough for America.
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Post by America on Mar 14, 2012 19:56:39 GMT -5
Shifting his position, America aimed, much more carefully this time. When he fired, the zombie he was hoping to hit went straight down. "Yes!" he whispered, wishing he could just burst out in a cheer. He was doing okay. He saw England kill one and smiled. We're doing pretty good, he thought proudly. Really, if someone had asked him years ago if he ever planned on taking out mass amounts of zombies, he would have left. Just a week ago, he hadn't even known where to hit a zombie to destroy it. Now, though, he supposed it'd be a daily thing in life.
He used the little light he had available to shoot yet another zombie, breathing out when it went down. It was getting easier as he went along. |
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Post by England on Mar 14, 2012 20:09:50 GMT -5
England lined up to shoot one zombie through the eye but it suddenly fell sideways, onto one of its comrades. He briefly looked up and nodded approvingly in the direction he guessed America was, but was immediately had to retreat a few steps back as one of the zombies entered his comfort zone, moaning loudly.
England made a 'tch' noise as he shot it down. The zombies were making too much noise. He really didn't want to jinx anything by wishing the best, or anything, but he really felt queasy about all this. He wasn't comfortable at all with any of this.
He just hoped America would be able to inform him somehow if something came up. In this darkness, it would be quite a challenge for the both of them.
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Post by America on Mar 14, 2012 20:28:57 GMT -5
America really wasn't enjoying watching England all alone out on the field. When one of the zombies got too close, the superpower had to force himself not to jump out and play the hero once again. He knew England would probably be beyond pissed if he pulled a stunt like that. Still, though, he hated just sitting up here. Sniping like this required patience, something America had very little of.
He tried concentrating on the task at hand, but when he pulled the trigger, he missed pretty drastically. The bullet embedded itself inside one of the chests of the zombies. Even if that hit would have killed a human, America knew it would do nothing to the zombie. "Dammit, America, focus!" he scolded himself, setting his gun on the same zombie again. |
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Post by England on Mar 14, 2012 21:16:44 GMT -5
Down on the field, England growled as one of the zombies was hit through the chest, continuing its way towards him, howling and moaning in desire of fresh flesh to consume. Shivering in disgust, England took it down and jumped back a few steps to count his remaining ammo.
Thankfully, his ammo was directly proportional to the number of zombies. As his bullets went down, so did the number of zombies. Still, he wasn't sure if he'd have enough bullets to kill them all. He was largely counting on America for this one.
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Post by Zombies on Mar 14, 2012 21:21:44 GMT -5
Despite being unable to feel, the zombies were being driven by something akin to desperation. They wanted to eat, for it had been too long since they'd consumed fresh meat on these barren lands. The prey moving swiftly in front of them was quick, keeping his distance. But they wanted to eat, and they would stop at nothing to accomplish their goal.
Every zombie wanted the fresh meat for themselves. They stumbled towards their prey, arms extended to grab and pull their prey into their rotten teeth and bite until nothing was left. And they howled in the night, unaware that they were attracting other competitors towards their prey.
From the other side, another equally large pack of zombies had started moving in, drawn in by the scent of fresh meat and the moan of their breathren.
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Post by America on Mar 14, 2012 21:28:02 GMT -5
America was about ready to shoot once more when something else caught his eye. He glanced up and, despite the dark, managed to see more figures moving toward England. "Bullshit," he hissed through his teeth, quickly standing. "England! Watch out! There's a huge mob behind you!" He wasn't sure what he should do now. He knew, he just knew, he had to go out on the field and help, but he wasn't sure if England would appreciate his it. Screw his feelings, he decided, quickly climbing over the side of the building and all but jumping down. If I don't help him, he'll be killed. The rifle would be a little helpful out here, even if it wasn't exactly a close-ranged object. Besides, he still had his knife with him.
He pulled said knife out of it's sheath and quickly stabbed one of the zombies through the eye, steadying his gun with on hand and shooting yet another zombie right in the head, wincing as blood splattered through the air. He made his way to England, giving him a glare. "I'm not in the mood to hear you bitch about me coming down," he said, turning back to the zombies. "I wouldn't have been much help up there, though, and there's no way in hell you'd be able to take all those zombies on by yourself." |
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Post by England on Mar 14, 2012 21:33:33 GMT -5
England opened his mouth to say something, but shut it immediately as he pushed America out of the way and shot another zombie closing up on them.
"At least be logical enough to get out of the way when I shoot." he snapped back, a bit annoyed that America had disobeyed, but... Also thankful he'd come down here.
The zombies always paralyzed him in slight ways. Especially when he was alone and surrounded. At least now, he was surrounded, but not alone. Never again.
"Here, take your gun back, I want mine." he snappily ordered, pushing the pistol into America's chest as he kept an eye on the zombies. "And then, cover my back. I'll cover yours. Let's bring these things down."
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Post by Zombies on Mar 14, 2012 21:48:52 GMT -5
The "excitement" only grew as another prey dropped in. The zombies' instincts were going overboard. Their guts, the only thing that guided them, told them to get closer and rip them to pieces until there was nothing left but blood splatters on the ground. Every single zombie had just that as a goal.
The moaning grew louder as they closed in from all sides around the two living beings. Their prey wasn't moving, but the zombies did not comprehend why. They just stepped closer and closer, reaching out to grab. So close, so so close...
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Post by America on Mar 14, 2012 21:53:54 GMT -5
With a small smile at England's stubbornness, America handed his gun and took his, putting it to a zombie's head and shooting. This would be a lot easier- a knife and a pistol. Much better! he thought, quite pleased that he had his original weapons back. His back pressed up against England's as he turned, shooting down another one. "I'm surprised," he said above the moans of the zombies. "I thought you'd be all over me to go away by now."
He mentally cursed when he actually saw just how many of the undead creatures there were. They started closing in around them and America shot again, beginning to get a little more than worried. I'm not sure, but I think this is way too many... |
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Post by England on Mar 14, 2012 21:58:27 GMT -5
"Because you're a stupid idiot, and it would be much easier to just throw you to the zombies. I wouldn't even try to get you back inside because you obviously don't understand the consequences of your dangerous acts. Just being here could get you killed, but of course, since when have you cared?" Bullshit, he was just really relieved America was fighting with him. He was just really glad they were back-to-back because like this, America couldn't see him gritting his teeth, desperately trying to suppress the blush rising on his cheeks.
To keep his mind occupied (and what an awkward occupation it was, his mind argued), he swung the strap over his shoulders and only took a moment to relish the feeling of cold metal in his hands before he was off again.
Bangs went off through the night as once again, the rifle became an extension of England's body.
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Post by America on Mar 14, 2012 22:05:24 GMT -5
For some reason, England's presence and usual attitude made America feel more at ease. The rapid beating of his heart slowed and he was able to concentrate better as he shot down another zombie. "Yeah, well, you're the one who jumped down here first," he pointed out, quickly reloading the gun. His hand slipped, though, and he lost a bullet. He made a move to pick it up, but noticed a zombie nearly right on him. Acting fast, he stabbed his knife into the side of the zombie's head, feeling relieved that he saw that one coming.
He finished reloading his gun in record time, the fastest he had done yet, and shot some more. "Besides, you know you need my help." Well, at least he thought that was true. He hoped so anyway, even if he didn't exactly know why he wished such a thought. Why should I care who England relies on? He shot once more, now feeling overly heroic and awesome enough to rival Prussia. |
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Post by Zombies on Mar 14, 2012 22:08:48 GMT -5
The zombies just kept on moving relentlessly. Their nonexistant stamina and constant hunger propelled them to stumble towards their prey. Two sides of the circle of zombies were falling to gunfire, but the other zombies did not pay any heed. They just kept advancing, some of them lucky enough to ghost their rotten, decomposing fingers over their prey's delicious flesh before they were shot down. The ones in the back just kept on trampling their fallen breathren, not realizing that this was a good omen for them.
They were closing in. And soon, they would feast.
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Post by England on Mar 15, 2012 18:14:43 GMT -5
"I absolutely did NOT need your help. I would've been able to resolve this on my own even if you hadn't decided to blindly jump into a pit of danger." Yes, he most likely would have been able to take care of it on his own. He always did. But America hadn't asked if he'd appreciated the help given. Because even to himself, he refused to answer to that.
England very rarely lied, but twisting his and other's words was all but second nature to him.
"Anyways, let's just get this over with. I'd hate to wake up everybody sleeping inside with this ruckus." he added, just for the sake of cutting their previous conversation short. He rather not have to answer anything too directly and too truthfully, after all.
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Post by America on Mar 15, 2012 18:59:59 GMT -5
"Yeah, yeah," America grumbled halfheartedly, scanning the zombies among them. "What's the plan? Just attack until they're all dead? Or, do you have some brilliant way of getting us through this mess?" He hoped it was the latter. Frankly, with this many zombies and such a small amount of people, it didn't look too good. Yes, he could honestly try destroying the zombies, using only his weapons at hand, but he wasn't sure if that would work out so well.
He used his knife to stab a zombie who had just brushed up against him, panicking only slightly this time. It barely touched him, though, so he was able to quickly compose himself. "They're everywhere," he hissed, eyes narrowed in the dark, the smell of rotting flesh making him want to puke. |
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