Shavian tried to kick at the zombie, but between trying to keep her hold on the rifle and Jackson trying to grab at her, she couldn’t aim the strike. She let out a scream as the unhappy zombie gave a tug with strength she didn’t think it could possess. Unable to keep hold on the rifle her fingers slipped from the stock, scrabbling to the find anything at all to save herself with. She grabbed at the strap but it had been cut when it was removed from Roger’s arsenal, making it impossible to hold.
Flipping about, ready to meet her death head on, she looked up into the eyes of a zombie, at a man that couldn’t have been much older than she was in life. The flesh of his neck was ripped where the others had turned him, thick blood still pouring from the wound. When she’d had her awakening to her God- given purpose she knew there was a good chance that it could end this way. She believed that she would be calm in these last moments, focused and ready, not dragged screaming like a little girl.
The room itself, built like a concrete bunker, vibrated around them with the growing rumble of the diesel engine of the M1117. It had to be close.
“Shavian!” Elliott yelled, as he tried to get to her, but McNabb was holding him back, seeing that the danger presented was to all of them and not just Shavian. The general knew when they were outnumbered. The struggle between them knocked Roger off aim. He’d been trying to line up the shot to take down the zombie holding her, but he would have needed it to be the perfect shot. “God damn it, boy!”
Higgins, beyond McNabb’s reach, stormed forward without hesitation. He raised his pistol and put two bullets into the head of the zombie. It dropped Shavian just before its teeth found her calf, the third shot hitting the zombie behind him. There was a moment of relief on the cop’s face before the louder bang of Jackson’s rifle went off.
Higgins jerked to the side, looking surprised, and he gradually dropped to his knees, clutching at his side.
Shavian froze, for a moment not believing what she was seeing.
“No!” she shrieked, trying to get to her feet. Jackson was trying to do the same, putting more distance between himself and the other two. Ignoring all of this, zombies were pushing through the door. Max had dispatched the last one and turned, baring her teeth. McNabb was raising his own pistol when the real hell started.
A blast dripped through the room, shattering the windows and tossing furniture about, turning everything to white fire and the accompanying shockwave was a deafening white noise. Shavian jumped back just as a concrete support beam crashed through the middle of the room, smashing one of the flipped desks. The image of Higgins’ body on the ground, bleeding, was burning behind her eyelids.
Beyond the broken out windows, the M117 sat large and idling. Junie was sitting atop the machine in the weapons turret, holding a smoking tactical coffee cup.
The zombies that were once poring through the door had stopped. The ones here were vaporized by the blast. The office walls had soaked up most of the impact, but just barely, and parts of the console were now smoking on fire and concrete beams had fallen, splitting the room in half.
Realizing finally what had just happened, Shavian crawled forward, pushing chairs and parts of the wall out of the way. “No, no, don’t do this to me!” She could tell she was sobbing, but it was hard to hear her own voice over the incredible ringing in her ears. She found him, laying on his side. He was still breathing but there was blood (oh God so much blood!) and there was a horrible gurgle in his breath.
His eyes blinked open and he looked up at her, his face taking on a weak lazy smile, and she didn’t like how accepting it was, that he’d really just accept this fate.
“J-just hold on, it’s fine.” She looked him over, helpless. She’d never taken a day of first aid and didn’t know the first thing she should do with a bullet wound. Why? Why didn’t she know what to do? Why hadn’t she ever bothered to learn? “We are going to patch you up and it’s going to be fine.” She could barely see him through her watery eyes, but she could hear the lie in her voice, her damn emotions always coming at the wrong times.
Higgins shook his head softly. Reaching up he pressed his hand to her cheek, and it was warmer than she thought it would be.
“Be…good,” he said.
And then he closed his eyes.