The Zombie Warehouse

((look: zombies. Go fetch.))
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"Fuck!" Harold screeched, scrambling across the concrete ground with all his might. His heart raced with adrenaline and threatened to fly out of his mouth, if it could get past his clentched jaw and gritting teeth. He never thought that he'd be in such a panicked like this before, but now that he was he couldn't think of what to do but run for his life.
As soon as he had enough space between him and his followers he scrampered up to his feet and shot off in a sprint down the concrete hall of the warehouse he foolishly trapped himself in. His heavy footsteps echoed down the tight halls, drowning out his breaths and the schuffling behind him. With a squeak he turned the on coming corner, where a door waited for him. Slamming against the door, he took hold of the knob with shaking hands the jiggled it till he heard a click and the door flew open. Tripping into the room he slammed the door shut with a kick of his legs, looking around the room franatically. From what he could see he was on a catwalk that lead to the other side of the large open room that he could only guess had large industrial shelves stacked high with various crates strewn about. He could only imagine the swarming terror that swam through the aisle bellow.
A loud thumping at the door behind him made him jump quickly to his feet. Glancing at the door for a moment he took a deep breath. "There's no way to get around these fuck'rs, huh?" he said to himself, smirking at the challenge - clearly forgetting how terrifying it was to not have them in the same room clawing at his ankles. Strutting up to the door he puntted it with his foot, jumping backwards onto his back when a louder thump and a creaking sound came from the other end. Rubbing the back of his head and giving an awkward laugh he got back up to his feet, turned, and ran towards the other end of the catwalk, where he hoped to find a way out.

Nearing the end of the walk, Harold felt despiration seep into his heart as the door behind him burst open, allowing a flood of zombies to come rolling through - some falling into the sea of its own kind below - and began to stagger their ways towards him. Even more to his dispare the catwalk gave him no hope for at the end he was met with a wall much like all the others surrounding him; a prison. "There are more sections," he said to himself, voice wavering as he looked over to the nearest shelf and readying himself to jump to it, "Maybe there are other survivors... Maybe there's an exit and some food..."
He leaped forward, his arms just barely able to grab hold of the edge to suspend him about the groping sea below. With a grunt he pulled himself up and began jumping a path through the room and towards another section of the warehouse where he hoped to find... well... hope.

Russia jumped up when he heard the sounds coming from the next room. He sighed, and grabbed the led pipe he always had with him. He 1/2 closed his eyes, smiling his creepy smile, not that is phased the horrid things that walked in to the doors. He raised the pipe over on of them, bringing it down will all of his force and sending it to the floor. It groned and started getting back up. He had gotten use to this over the years. He hit is face in to the floor, black blood spilling from its face. It flailed and Russia felt the pipe shutter is skull in to shards. Being able to feel the tossing of its neck bones when the pipe hit. He kept hitting, seeing the dent and the crater being hit in to his brain. He closed his eyes ofr the last part, the traing of its flesh. Oven than, he felt the shards of bone under the pipe, the mashed matter under the shards being crushed. He could here more outside. He just opened his eyes, the warehouse was being overtaken with them. It was no longer safe to stay here. He ran around, gathering his few things that he carried with him. He stoped, out of the small slit in the door he could see a odd looking man. He looked at him before sighing. How could I have not knowen that they were invading my house!" His mind scram at him.

Alfred had been getting many calls at the station about strange activity occurring in the city. He rolled his eye made sure he had his gun in its holster and rushed into the cop car driving off. He turned on the radio, whistling to the tune, tapping the steering wheel when he spots some standing in the middle of the road and hits the brakes making the car jerk back a bit. He hit someone, and panic fills his entire body, "Shit." he exclaims and get out of the car to make sure they were okay. He got out and rushed to the where the person was and was shocked, the person looked like they were decaying, like, they were dead before he hit them. He raised an eyebrow in confusion and and went to go touch the person, to make sure they were still living and he his wrist was grabbed. His eyes widen and the thing --because it was no longer human-- let out a groan as it tried to bite his neck. Alfred pushed it away with some struggle as the thing continued to come after him, and he istantly grabbed his gun pointing it at the 'thing's' arm shooting it but not killing it. His heart stopped and the only option ws to shoot it in the head and he did and the thing went limp and fell to the floor. Alfred panted, his heart was racing and the realization that he had killed it. He didn't mean to, but his life was on the line. He heard more groans and turned around seeing more of the things, looking as decayed as the one he had shot earlier. He quickly got up and said to himself, "What the hell are these things." he didn't have enough bullets to hold any of them back and saw a warehouse in the distance and made a run for it, cutting his arms and legs from the branches scratching him in his desperate attempts to escape. He continued to hear them follow him, but they were getting harder to hear, meaning that they were far. He made it to the warehouse and panted from the run and the fear, he was alive, but what they hell were they? He wanted to know. He shook, what was he supposed to do now? Be a hero, if there were more survivors like him, then surely he could save them. He pulled the gun close to his chest and began to examine the warehouse.

Running through the school halls, Zoe was looking for more survivors. "How could this happen?! It doesn't seem possible!" She said panting, her running was slowing down to a jog and finally stopped. She was trying to catch her breath, the smell of rotting flesh almost made her vomit. But then she spotted a baseball bat and picked it up. "Well, at least I can protect myself..." She said to herself trying to keep a positive attitude, but a groan interrupted her. She saw a zombie feet away from her, "Time to test this baby out, huh?" She smirked, Zoe started running towards the zombie at full speed and crushed it's skull with her bat. Blood was everywhere, on the windows, walls and her uniform. From the window she could see a small warehouse not far by the school, she could see a man walking up to the warehouse. Hoping it was a human she ran out of the school heading for the warehouse.

Running towards the warehouse, Zoe saw the the front door was blocked by these, "things". 'There has to be another way in there,' she thought. She approached the door with zombies. She ran towards them, swinging her bat knocking down and killing 4 zombies. One zombie crawled to her leg trying to bite her ankle, but she reacted immediately. She crushed it's skull on the pavement, forming a puddle of blood on the concrete. Kicking another zombie down on the ground as well, smashing it's skull when it fell on the ground. Clearing the doorway, she pounded on the door, hoping someone was in there. "Hello?! Anybody?! Let me in!" she yelled, the sound of wood being hit and yelling caught the zombies' attention they started to limp towards her slowly. "Let me in!!" she yelled one more time, if no one answered in time, she would be one of those, "things".

Oliver moved through the streets silently, clutching onto his kitchen knife hard, his knuckles white, talk about a walk up call for the man, this morning he had been sleeping in the loft above his bakery and the next he was fending off corpses that had broken in, slashing wildly with nothing more then a knife and then running outside, he felt like he was in some horrible nightmare, when he got outside there were cars littering the streets, some on fire and dead bodies everywhere, at first Oliver had called out to see if anybody was alive, BIG MISTAKE, a few of those bodies started to get up and from there Oliver had been forced to sprint, occasionally jumping over the bodies of putrid smelling flesh, that hung only in pieces, these creatures looked something like straight out of hell, blood bubbling between their cracked lips, while nasty boils that covered their bodies erupted with pus.

Oliver was already covered in a manner of unmentionables he rather NOT be covered in, his vest covered in blood, his tie dangling from his neck and his pants already dirtied beyond repair, he moved between the cars silently, trying not to breath to hard, he peeked from hiding spot when he heard screams and saw a poor lad run across the street, but with all his screaming he saw the bodies that lay around get up, one snagging the man's leg and sending him crashing to the ground, Oliver watched in sick fascination as the man was tore apart, his screams becoming less and the sound being replaced with the sound of squishing noises as they dug in, bones snapping and jaws working on the flesh, Oliver tore his eyes from the scene and began moving again.

But as soon as he got passed the feeding horde, he made the deadly mistake of taking a break only fifteen feet away from the group, unbeknownst to him one was coming from behind, he was knocked forward, the sicko was upon him, his knife fell from his hand as he struggled to keep the thing from him, holding it by the shoulders, its jaws snapping as its hands clawed at his face, Oliver was struggling for air, the smell rolling off of it was over-powering and it didn't help that the sicko drooled thick, sticky blood from its mouth onto his face. Oliver grabbed the sickos throat, choking it, something snapping in him, a sick grin appeared on his face and he he groped for the knife, once his fingers enclosed around it he stabbed it clean through the side of its head, he pushed the body off and scrawled on top of, repeating the action till its face was no more.

He stood up shakily, his breath catching as he noticed a warehouse in the distance, he moved forward, his thoughts only concerned with getting to the building, covered in blood and his knife gripped securely in his hand, he sprinted, no longer concerned with the sickos, just wanting to find refuge, he manged to reach the building and found the door, unlocked much to his relief. He bounded in and closed and locked the door behind him, once inside he slumped against the door and started laughing hysterically, he didn't know whether it was because he almost gotten his face chewed off or just the fact that his city was now crawling with sickos or because he still had blood all over his face but either way, he laughed till he couldn't breath, slowly calming down and wiping tears from his eyes, he stood up and looked around, hoping maybe he could find a better weapon or maybe survivors that didn't have flesh falling from their teeth, he moved about till he heard what sounded like voices coming from a door and crept closer, his knife at the ready, he held the handle and then instead of opening the door, decided he knock first, if he heard groans dead people, he'd turn and leave if not he'd take the risk and look inside.
“Ello? Is anyone in there that isn't dead?” Oliver called, waiting for a response, unknowing that a few shadows in the dark were slowly making their ways towards him.