Snippet #1014732

Keith's heart began to beat faster as realized the person downstairs would probably check up here. His eyesight swept across the room, looking for a place to hide. The closet! Yes I could hide in the closet, he thought. He made a movement for it, just as a person walked into the room he was in. Stopping his movement to the closet he put his hands up.

"If you are still smart enough to understand me, let go of your weapon. And tell me if you've any bites or scratchmarks from the living dead." He heard the person say. The person was a man, with a boonie hat on, a revolver in one hand, and a rifle slung over the man's back, and a bayonet in the other hand. He wasn't good at gun names, he just knew his revolver was a point 44.

But from all those years of playing Call of Duty and wasting away in front of his t.v. he thought the rifle was a Mosin Nagant. He couldn't know for sure, after all, Call of Duty is just a video game. The graphics could be a bit off. He bent down, one arm still raised, the other arm, the one with the gun, down by the floor. He dropped the gun on the floor then straightened his back.

"I am not a zombie, or monster, or whatever you want to call it. Do not shoot me... please." He said quietly, but loud enough to be heard. "There are, like, eight zombies out there. And if you don't shoot me you can get rid of them easily. If you do shoot me the gunshot will attract other zombies. So don't shoot me... or we will both be screwed."

"So, can I put my hand down-" His sentence was intterupted by the screams coming from a building near the library. It sounded like someone was yelling, "Help!" He turned around, lowering his arms, and looking at the window. It sounded like it had came from that apartment building. He thought, his eyes traveling to a building. He turned back around, hoping the person wouldn't shoot from his sudden action.