The Cafe

The cafe. 10 people. Not daring to make a single noise for fear of giving up their position. The infected congregated outside the cafe, the lingering smell of fresh flesh still warm in the air. They had barely made it in to the cafe, the savage beasts hot on their tail. The infected were getting smarter, faster, better at tracking; evolving at a rate most would consider impossible.

Time passes for what seems like hours. Tense nerves, adrenaline coursing, sweat beading and hearts racing. The place stank of fear. It was no wonder these “zombies” weren’t going away any time soon. A gunshot rings out, followed by the familiar staccato of machine gun fire. Yelling and more gunfire carries on for what seems like a lifetime.

A figure approaches the door and everyone freezes in their place. The door crashes open to reveal a man wielding a shotgun and a dripping wet machete, several silhouettes behind him checking bodies.

He surveys the cafe and points the machete out the door.

“You comin’ or what?”.

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