Snippet #1015608

"Joey." The camouflaged man said, grinning, rubbing the light chin scruff he had, due to lack of shaving. "Some of my friends call me Jewfro. You can too, if you want." He said, taking off his boonie hat, letting his wild hair almost spring out of it. The curly, thick locks looked a little dirty, but was to be expected. He replaced the boonie hat, and listened to the man's ideas. "I think we should look out on of the ground windows. No point in climing a flight of stairs to get down a building." He would get down, and stuff his backpack under the desk again. He would stop, before pulling out the bag again. "I'll go check it out. I'll be okay.. you just sound like you're gonna fall over from hunger. Ramen and oatmeal in my bag. Water too if you're thirsty. You'll have to eat it cold, though, unless you want to create a beacon for zombies." He said. He would check his weaponry, before heading to the front door. He pressed his ear to the doorway. Oddly enough, he heard no footsteps. "I don't hear anything." Joey said softly.

Joey slowly opened the door, his revolver at the ready. He drew his bayonet, and walked out of the door slowly. He looked around, looking over to the apartment complex, scanning the doorway. The eight zombies that Kieth said he'd attracted were shuffling over there...and Joey saw why. A man shimmying down on a rope of linen- perhaps bedspreads. The zombies flocked under him like sharks. Joey would grin, as it was a little bit funny. But not honestly. He began to jog over to the apartments, putting his bayonet away. The handle on it was more than enough as the survivalist ran forth, and stopped behind the crowd. He was shaking just a bit, out of fear and adreniline pumping through him, but he was excited. This was the second time he'd done something like this. He would with a springing step forward, jar the bayonet into the back of the zombie's neck, evicerating the tough of his spine, causing the body to flop like a fish, it's mouth moving as it had been crippled. The other zombies had turned around at his grunt, and began to shuffle at him, their arms outreached trying to grip and bite him. Joey took a few back steps, before lashing his blade forward in a jab again, down one of the zombie's gaping maw. He smirked, as it just like the last one, droped down, the infected brain unable to control the disabled body.

Again, Joey repeated this process, the zombies not able to learn, and continuing to fall for his attacks. One lurched for him, and jarred it in the face with the ring knuckle on the bayonet, knocking it down. Shooting his arms from the horizontal line it was in to punch the zombie face, he swung his arm around, and speared a Zombie's temple. The weakest part of the skull was no match for the bayonet, and gave in. Joey booted yet another zombie, and continued to step back, drawing his unserrated blade from the Zombie's head. The reading of the Zombie Survival Guide had served Joey well, and he knew how to keep himself alive from his uncle Horner, whom was a Green Beret. Finally, he jabbed the bayonet up the last Undead's nose, spearing his brain like a shishkabab. He popped his blade out, the zombified blood dripping from his weapon and his wrist. He smirked, walking towards the man whom was dangling from the window. "Come on down, Capt'n." Joey said, calling the guy what he called just about everyone. "I don't bite near as hard as those bastards do."