Alex sat alone in the dusty, run-down garage, surrounded by the smell of rotting corpses and the quiet shuffle of the walkers. He knew there would be more soon. The smell of fresh blood always lured out the damned.
This job was supposed to be easy. Go out, cut a few walkers up, find the client’s son, and bury him. Throw in a few sentimental words, and maybe loot a few homes on the way. The one time he accepts a job upfront, it turns out to be an ambush. He hoped there was a nice little corner of hell for each one of the scumbags.
As he’d run through the nearest alleyway he could find, he caught a glance at the firearms they were packing. Assault rifles. At least two of them had AKs. There were, from what he could tell, at least four guys, maybe more. The spread of the virus had brought about with it scavengers. Guys who never helped rebuild what little defense the towns still had. Guys who became vultures. He hated them with a burning passion.
“Where ya hiding, buddy?” one of the thugs called out. “Tell ya what, you come out all nice n’ easy, and we’ll make it quick for ya. Even give ya a few final words to send to your mom and pop. We’re gonna find you anyway, so why don’t you just make it easy-” Alex heard a loud crash. Guy must of kicked down a door on one of the other houses. He would hide as long as he  could, run away if opportunity reared  its beautiful head. He was quick, surprisingly so, and could slice cleanly through a torso like butter with the katana strapped to his belt, but bullets were just a wee bit faster than he was. If he had to fight, he would, and the thought of stripping all those pricks of their guns was, well, tempting, but he had almost no chance. Still, he had the element of surprise, and if he could just get behind them… A loud bang interrupted his thought, and the bright white light of midday blinded him. Instinct kicked in. Move. Run. Cut. Kill. Luckily, while this guy was buff, and at least twice the size of Alex, he had abysmal accuracy. One swipe, and the blade went through. nice and clean, right between the ribs, and straight into the heart. Alex now had a pistol, albeit out of bullets. and almost certainly a nicely sized horde on his trail. The big guy’s two comrades started laying down bullets right away. Luckily, he’d miscounted. He could deal with two. Plus, the walkers would absorb at least a few mags.
He must have been a psychic. With impeccable timing, a horde consisting of what he would guess to be about 50 walkers came shambling down the street towards those two knuckleheads. What they failed to notice, however, was the smaller group coming from behind, consisting of about six walkers. The sight of them overwhelming the gunman to Alex’s left was both beautiful and disturbing. The singular man had finished the 50 others and turned around just in time to avoid having his right shoulder bitten off. He emptied his remaining bullets into the final six to find his mag was now empty. The look of pure terror was satisfying as he remembered Alex. In a sprint, Alex rushed the gunman as he stumbled to draw the knife Alex had failed to notice. Their blades met each other’s bodies. Luck seemed to be Alex’s forte. The katana had perfectly slid between the ribs and into his heart. The knife was suspended in Alex’s left thigh. With a satisfying thump, the man fell over as Alex clutched his side. A hearty laugh escaped his lips. He’d earned himself a couple of rifles. These suckers would sell for a small fortune. Now, all he needed was a nice bandage and a shot of the strongest drink he could find to ease the pain. As he fell to the ground, he remembered why he always tried to avoid fights in the wasteland. Blacking out is playing a dice game with Death, and Death is the luckiest man alive. As his eyes closed, he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that he would wake up to see tomorrow’s sun.