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located in Contiguous United States, a part of Survival Revival, one of the many universes on RPG.

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Kline looked back at his group from the crouch he was in. Everyone looked ready to go.

"Alright everyone. Move at a stead pace to the car. Not to fast, not too slow. But don't fall behind. Try to stay in formation, but don't make it a priority. As long as we all get back to the vehicles, that's all we need to worry about. Move!" He shouted, his commanding voice slightly echoing.

He began to move at a quick pace, his bent legs shuffling across the cement as he moved. It wasnt long before the group was faced with more than a few zombies. Kline lifted the shotgun to his shoulder, his eyes gazing down the irons of the barrel before pulling the trigger. The shotgun let out a fierce thunderclap, knocking the zombie backwards, the spray blowing a few clear holes in the zombie head. Foxchild racked the lever of his shotgun again, firing in the same direction. A few of the zombies were stopped, stumbling and even tumbling as the were hit with the buckshot. Again, the mechanical 'chiikoo' filled the air as Kline again racked the shotgun.

The group was moving pace with him, and the plan seemed to be working quite well. They had short and medium ranges covered. Zombies couldnt get near the group without being shotgunned back, or picked off with rifle fire.

Kline saw a zombie moving at a startling fast paced, and towards the group. He waited for the zombie to get at least 15 feet before blasting him with the shotgun. The zombie was knocked backwards, even though the shot wasnt a headshot. He dashed a small bit ahead of the group, to where the zombie was now squirming, trying to regain his footing. Kline flipped his shotgun around, and in a massive baseball bat styled swing, brought the stock of his shotgun aside from the zombie's skull. It made a sickening crack, and the zombie slumped down, making no further movements. His adreniline was pumping now. His heart was racing, and his mind was ahead of him by miles.

He racked his shotgun, and waited for the group before they moved to their own vehicles. "Okay! Everyone get in a car. If there isnt room in anyone else's vehicle, you can get in the back of my truck. No arguing, no fighting. NO TIME TO WASTE! Go, go GO!" He said demandingly, turning around to make sure there wasnt any flesheaters dangerously close to them. Luckily, there werent...

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