Roadblock

        Down the winding mountain road the bus drove.  The further down the mountain we drove, the thicker the undead were.  The occasional thud under the bus became a constant by the time we made it to the bottom of the foothills.  Rich had had enough.  "God Damnit!  These things are going to tear this bus apart!   I need every available gun on the roof, I need a clear road!"  Taking the hint, I grab my guns and open the emergency exit door on the roof.  One by one, we climb up, taking the back of the bus, I wait.  I see only a few at first, stumbling out of the shadows, before the floodlights snap to life.  The shadows dissolve, only to reveal hundreds of them.  Coming from what seemed to be everywhere, there was no end to the hungry horde that wanted nothing more than to cave the doors in and devour the people within.  But they wouldnt get in.  Not if I had anything to do with it.  Loading my shotgun, I aim below to the sea of pale and hungry ghouls reaching up to pull me down.  With one last pump, I take a deep breath, I fire into the crowd.  If it was just me, I wouldnt worry, this was like shooting fish in a barrel.  But there were lives hanging on this fight.  I couldnt just run if it got out of control.  I was a defender, quite the role reversal from a week ago.  Back when I was just running.  But not anymore, I take a stand tonight.
        The gunfire around me slows down, or is it just me?  I look around and everyone is frantically shooting below, guns of all caliber firing, the strobe of gunfire adds to the hell-like vibe.  The adrenaline kicks in, giving me the speed boost that I needed.  Fire and punp, fire and pump.  The back of the bus is smeared in bits of human remains.  Several sections of the bus  were undefended, and the undead took advantage of this.  Slamming their rotten fists on the metal, Screams from the inside of the bus rose up and chilled me to the bone.  The kids, they are awake and they know something is wrong.  Leaving my post at the end of the bus, I run for the unguarded area and open fire, sending the corpses flying from the bus.  Pumping and reloading until I was empty, I drop my shotgun on the roof, the clatter lost over the gunfire around me.  I unholster my handgun, aiming more carefully that I did with my shotgun.  Taking aim at the closest withered and decayed face, I fire.  The bullet pierces the face, below the eye socket, and drops the creature for good.  "Look out below!"  Taking the empty clip from the handgun, I toss it into the bus.  Taking it as a hint, I hear Rich yelling at anyone not on the roof.  "Take those clips and re fill them!  They need all the help they can get!"  Not what I was thinking, but hey it works.

          

         After what seems to be hours later and hundreds of bullets spent, the last of the horde is dispatched.  The cold air is thick with the smell of rotting corpse, and the lack of wind only keeps the smell hovering around us.  Peeking below the bus, I see loose bullets and clips scattered on the floor, Rich in the middle furiously slipping bullets in the magazines.  The children were huddled around Bea, terrified whimpers coming from their faces which were buried into the worried grandmothers chest.  A simple thumbs up speaks more than I could.  Sighs of relief come from the older crew member still inside the bus.  Looking around outside the bus, a few more were coming out of the woods, but we could keep driving.  "Alright everybody, back in the bus.  We need to get moving before more of those things show up."  Standing on the roof, I see a town ahead.  Not completely devoid of life, there are what seems to be searchlights on the far end.  Signs of life, whether there was anyone operating those searchlights, was enough for me.  Letting Rich know about the lights, he starts the engine.  "We can at least drive by.  If its abandoned, we could use more ammunition."  His tone is that of skepticism.  With as many of those things that we took out earlier, the chances of someone being alive there are slim.  But there was still a chance.  Driving over the last few bumps in the road, we take off.  Leaving the battleground behing the in the cold night, never to return again.