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Description
"Man, how come all of this type of shit always has to happen on the tenth floor of a construction building?" she whined as she ran across the skeletal metal structure that, with one misplaced step, one mistake, could send her plummeting straight in to a mass of both the ground and what she was escaping from.
There was an evil hiss behind her, and though it was probably on the other side or floor, and on a different bar but it sounded as if it were at her shoulder, raking against her eardrums. She cursed, scolding herself for being spooked so easily as she swung her semi-automatic rifle around, half turning her body behind her, and shot a few rounds of bullets into those stupid sonsofbitches heads.

Seeing a cult of them across the level, some just stumbling onto it, half of them rocking heavily as blood spurted everywhere from those she hit were rocking backward off the bar. Their rotting, blackened flesh sagging off of the brittle bones as their dark dirty blood soaked their tattered, leftover clothing. The chipped and blackened teeth that were left inside showing in their yielding mouths, pulled back with decaying muscles in a wanting, desperate display of their evident hunger. But thanks to what ever God was left, they are so slow, she thought as she faced front again, slipping in the black pool that had somehow made it there, causing her to almost loose her balance, but regaining it before she had to go join those she had shot below.

On the ground, some of them were eating at each others rotting meat, tearing there already tattered clothing, hungry and instinctive in their want and hunger, tearing apart flesh letting rotting muscle and meat expose itself with its awful, terribly soiled stench that they all fed off of. As she kept running along the bar, getting closer to the far corner of the supposed building to be, her cracked and dry lips panted, as one of her arms had a gaping, gagged whole, oozing straight through to the bone in her bicep. She grit her teeth, and raced to the next level of the cursed tall ass thing. Their disease was spreading quickly, her arm was already beginning to rot, and the skin was becoming yellow, and getting worse by the second. The blood encrusted, blunt lead pipe in her hand was slowly going through her weakening grip, and was getting low enough to trip her as she ran along the ten inch wide bars.

Her comrade was on the ground, having found a piece of equipment that he thought could help slightly in their survival; instead of fleeing to the roof, that rebellious fool. The bull dowser was up and running before she had even gotten to the second floor, and was killing them by the dozens, if they could be die, but at least they stopped moving when torn to shreds; they soon found that out quickly. He shouted up to her, "Maybe we can kill them!"
She smiled and shouted out, using her pain, "No, you idiot! Bullshit! They're GOD FORSAKEN ZOMBIES!" Him, already deciding to use his rebellious nature and go against her words and smiled wider as a head of a male that used to work at the grocery store landed on the bulletproof windshield already having his tongue bitten off and one of his eyes looked like the veins holding in place had been torn with a raw and uneven sever. He laughed again and put on the windshield wipers, seeing it roll off as it got caught on the wipers, smearing black blood on the windshield, like ink. A finger with a wedding ring soon followed. Then the tongue. He shouted, "Why not? We could just throw tomatoes at them! See if it works!"

Still shouting out in pain, she started to laugh at the humility of it, even though she was exhausted, and stuffed the rifle into its holder on her back. She reached past her dead and almost limp arm into her pocket, pulling out a can of old tomato juice. Ironically, tomatoes where the only cure to the weird and disgusting disease taking on the city. She opened it with a pop and drank it for a few seconds, not taking her eyes off of the bar ahead to the next floor, leaving the stumbling bastards behind her by a floor or two.

Her arm was regaining its feeling, and the rotting reversed as fast as it had spread, though the arm was practically completely rotten, having turned her skin blue and black, long past yellow, while her fingernails had dispersed long ago. Her finger bones and tendons clearly outlined with the sunken skin. The black was dissipating and the muscle growing, the skin was slowly lifting, looking less sunken. The blood, though it had been oozing and getting slower and darker, was beginning to get lighter, but still at a sluggish pace since it was healing as the muscle appeared as if by magic, filling up the gap and leaving teeth like dents behind. Soon the skin reappeared and the only thing left of the apple sized gap were the scars of the teeth at random intervals in an oval shape. Her fingernails didn't regrow, strangely. She tightened her grip on her favorite weapon, giddy as she resealed the half empty can of juice, and placed it back into her pocket.

Picking up her pace and pumping her arms. She felt a presence behind her. It must be one of those freakishly fast ones that were disabled that, when catching the disease, get awesome abilities compared to the rest, she thought, tightening her grip. When it was close enough to get the hairs on neck standing she finally whipped around, and holding the pipe fast in both hands, began hitting it in the neck. The rebound of the first hit got to her hand soon after the spine snapped, and she swung back and hit the same weak point in the neck for the second time, even thought it's windpipe had been smashed and vertebra shattered by that time, the tendons held strong.

Though the rotting flesh had given way and the blackened, rotten meat was visible, the straining tendons pushing back against the muscle, while its mouth was still open, the sunken closed, flat eyelids tearing at the edges, showing black inside, where the eye's should have been. It began to raise its arms, blackened fingers with sagging skin like claws, as the smashed windpipe gurgled and dead blood oozed and bubbled from the bastards gaping jaws. With a grunt on the third strike, the head popped off with a sickening pop and crunch. It fell down the length of the structure, and the body, though headless now, fell to its knees as she swung the pipe around and broke the shins on both legs, putting them at an almost ninety degree's angle, bones breaking through the skin, like tree limbs, while its spurting, rotten insides of the neck with unevenly severed tendons showing, shards of its own spine lodged in the rotting meat around the scraps of torn skin, with a few teeth lodged in the windpipe and laying on the surface of the muscle on the neck. With a guttural growl, she swung at the rib cage, hearing several snaps as its body soon followed its predeceasing head.

Back on the ground, the dark, black haired man dressed in black driving the bull dowser laughed as a head smacked the bulletproof windshield so hard is smashed the skull inside, tearing the blackened skin back from the muscle, and the result was you couldn't even tell it was a head. The wipers got it off just in time for the following, headless body that hit it, and as it was slowly pushed off, the broken bones making the rotten corpse unable to hurt a fly unless it wiggled inside its collapsed air pipe or rotten flesh, rolled into a crowd of hungry mouths that were screeching, guttural sounds of tearing flesh and the spattering of blood followed as they dug into the new meal, hungry mouths able to eat all of the corpse of one of their own, even as pieces flew out into the crowd. As that happened, the man cackled even more, loud enough for the girl on the twelfth floor above to hear, and join in, mingling in with the screeches and cries of the undead corpses, making a sinister sound of rejoice to the ears of all that was living.

Description
"Man, how come all of this type of shit always has to happen on the tenth floor of a construction building?" she whined as she ran across the skeletal metal structure that, with one misplaced step, one mistake, could send her plummeting straight in to a mass of both the ground and what she was escaping from.
There was an evil hiss behind her, and though it was probably on the other side or floor, and on a different bar but it sounded as if it were at her shoulder, raking against her eardrums. She cursed, scolding herself for being spooked so easily as she swung her semi-automatic rifle around, half turning her body behind her, and shot a few rounds of bullets into those stupid sonsofbitches heads.

Seeing a cult of them across the level, some just stumbling onto it, half of them rocking heavily as blood spurted everywhere from those she hit were rocking backward off the bar. Their rotting, blackened flesh sagging off of the brittle bones as their dark dirty blood soaked their tattered, leftover clothing. The chipped and blackened teeth that were left inside showing in their yielding mouths, pulled back with decaying muscles in a wanting, desperate display of their evident hunger. But thanks to what ever God was left, they are so slow, she thought as she faced front again, slipping in the black pool that had somehow made it there, causing her to almost loose her balance, but regaining it before she had to go join those she had shot below.

On the ground, some of them were eating at each others rotting meat, tearing there already tattered clothing, hungry and instinctive in their want and hunger, tearing apart flesh letting rotting muscle and meat expose itself with its awful, terribly soiled stench that they all fed off of. As she kept running along the bar, getting closer to the far corner of the supposed building to be, her cracked and dry lips panted, as one of her arms had a gaping, gagged whole, oozing straight through to the bone in her bicep. She grit her teeth, and raced to the next level of the cursed tall ass thing. Their disease was spreading quickly, her arm was already beginning to rot, and the skin was becoming yellow, and getting worse by the second. The blood encrusted, blunt lead pipe in her hand was slowly going through her weakening grip, and was getting low enough to trip her as she ran along the ten inch wide bars.

Her comrade was on the ground, having found a piece of equipment that he thought could help slightly in their survival; instead of fleeing to the roof, that rebellious fool. The bull dowser was up and running before she had even gotten to the second floor, and was killing them by the dozens, if they could be die, but at least they stopped moving when torn to shreds; they soon found that out quickly. He shouted up to her, "Maybe we can kill them!"
She smiled and shouted out, using her pain, "No, you idiot! Bullshit! They're GOD FORSAKEN ZOMBIES!" Him, already deciding to use his rebellious nature and go against her words and smiled wider as a head of a male that used to work at the grocery store landed on the bulletproof windshield already having his tongue bitten off and one of his eyes looked like the veins holding in place had been torn with a raw and uneven sever. He laughed again and put on the windshield wipers, seeing it roll off as it got caught on the wipers, smearing black blood on the windshield, like ink. A finger with a wedding ring soon followed. Then the tongue. He shouted, "Why not? We could just throw tomatoes at them! See if it works!"

Still shouting out in pain, she started to laugh at the humility of it, even though she was exhausted, and stuffed the rifle into its holder on her back. She reached past her dead and almost limp arm into her pocket, pulling out a can of old tomato juice. Ironically, tomatoes where the only cure to the weird and disgusting disease taking on the city. She opened it with a pop and drank it for a few seconds, not taking her eyes off of the bar ahead to the next floor, leaving the stumbling bastards behind her by a floor or two.

Her arm was regaining its feeling, and the rotting reversed as fast as it had spread, though the arm was practically completely rotten, having turned her skin blue and black, long past yellow, while her fingernails had dispersed long ago. Her finger bones and tendons clearly outlined with the sunken skin. The black was dissipating and the muscle growing, the skin was slowly lifting, looking less sunken. The blood, though it had been oozing and getting slower and darker, was beginning to get lighter, but still at a sluggish pace since it was healing as the muscle appeared as if by magic, filling up the gap and leaving teeth like dents behind. Soon the skin reappeared and the only thing left of the apple sized gap were the scars of the teeth at random intervals in an oval shape. Her fingernails didn't regrow, strangely. She tightened her grip on her favorite weapon, giddy as she resealed the half empty can of juice, and placed it back into her pocket.

Picking up her pace and pumping her arms. She felt a presence behind her. It must be one of those freakishly fast ones that were disabled that, when catching the disease, get awesome abilities compared to the rest, she thought, tightening her grip. When it was close enough to get the hairs on neck standing she finally whipped around, and holding the pipe fast in both hands, began hitting it in the neck. The rebound of the first hit got to her hand soon after the spine snapped, and she swung back and hit the same weak point in the neck for the second time, even thought it's windpipe had been smashed and vertebra shattered by that time, the tendons held strong.

Though the rotting flesh had given way and the blackened, rotten meat was visible, the straining tendons pushing back against the muscle, while its mouth was still open, the sunken closed, flat eyelids tearing at the edges, showing black inside, where the eye's should have been. It began to raise its arms, blackened fingers with sagging skin like claws, as the smashed windpipe gurgled and dead blood oozed and bubbled from the bastards gaping jaws. With a grunt on the third strike, the head popped off with a sickening pop and crunch. It fell down the length of the structure, and the body, though headless now, fell to its knees as she swung the pipe around and broke the shins on both legs, putting them at an almost ninety degree's angle, bones breaking through the skin, like tree limbs, while its spurting, rotten insides of the neck with unevenly severed tendons showing, shards of its own spine lodged in the rotting meat around the scraps of torn skin, with a few teeth lodged in the windpipe and laying on the surface of the muscle on the neck. With a guttural growl, she swung at the rib cage, hearing several snaps as its body soon followed its predeceasing head.

Back on the ground, the dark, black haired man dressed in black driving the bull dowser laughed as a head smacked the bulletproof windshield so hard is smashed the skull inside, tearing the blackened skin back from the muscle, and the result was you couldn't even tell it was a head. The wipers got it off just in time for the following, headless body that hit it, and as it was slowly pushed off, the broken bones making the rotten corpse unable to hurt a fly unless it wiggled inside its collapsed air pipe or rotten flesh, rolled into a crowd of hungry mouths that were screeching, guttural sounds of tearing flesh and the spattering of blood followed as they dug into the new meal, hungry mouths able to eat all of the corpse of one of their own, even as pieces flew out into the crowd. As that happened, the man cackled even more, loud enough for the girl on the twelfth floor above to hear, and join in, mingling in with the screeches and cries of the undead corpses, making a sinister sound of rejoice to the ears of all that was living.