Gunfire cracked in the distance, and he hopped the fallen corpse, running down the alleyway to try to find his companions.
CHAPTER SIX
As Dante took off into the town, Ace tried to find the source of their shooter. Gunfire followed Dante, and the redneck smacked Brandt’s shoulder.
“Come on, let’s go around back to the next alley over and flank ‘em,” he hissed, and then took off at a run, not waiting to see if the Sheriff followed.
He did, however, and they tore around the back of the building, stopping at the corner to the alley to peek around. He caught sight of the glint of an SUV, and the back of a mercenary’s head.
Ace headed down the alleyway, aiming his shotgun as he got closer and closer, hoping to get close enough to fire at a useful range. Halfway down the alley, the mercenary turned around and raised his assault rifle.
Ace fired despite being too far away and then ducked behind a cluster of trash cans to take cover from the return fire.
“Down here!” the mercenary yelled.
Brandt ran towards Ace, eyes panicked, and then did a baseball slide to join him behind the cans. A pack of ghouls was on his tail, pouring into the alley from the back.
“Shit,” Ace said brightly. They were boxed in, flesh-eating corpses on one side, a quartet of crazed soldiers on the other. He looked up over the top of the cans, narrowly missing more bullets, and spotted a metal door just on the other side across the alley. “We gotta get in that building,” he said.
“How the fuck are we gonna do that?” Brandt barked and fired his shotgun into the oncoming horde. He blew apart the top half of one ghoul, tripping up a few behind it.
Ace popped up as the assault rifle bursts stopped, and fired at the mercenaries, who took cover around the corners of the mouth of the alley. He fired again, darting for the door, and pulled on it, willing it to be unlocked.
Thankfully it was, and he opened it towards the mercenaries, using it as a shield as Brandt ran towards him. They slipped inside just as the zombies reached them, managing to pull it shut just in time.
Moans echoed from behind them in the storeroom they’d entered, and both men whipped around.
“Lock the door!” Ace cried, before blowing a zombie’s head off.
Brandt scrambled to lock the door and then grunted as a ghoul lunged for him. They tussled for a moment before he finally kicked the corpse away, raising his shotgun fast enough to blast it in the head, splattering brains everywhere.
Ace, needing to reload but without time, used the butt of his gun to smash a zombie in the face, and then clambered on top of a large wooden crate as the ghoul struggled to get to its feet again.
He pulled out his knife and began to stab down like whack-a-mole, dropping zombies left and right. Soon there was a pile of corpses around the crate, and the Sheriff stood, chest heaving, across the room.
Both men stood there, waiting, listening hard, which was difficult with the banging on the door.
“Front or back?” Brandt asked hoarsely, and Ace jumped down from the crate.
“If they’re heading towards the back, I say we go out the front and try to get ‘em from behind,” the redneck said, and headed for the store. They came out from the back room into a gift shop, wall to wall with kitschy overpriced items. When they reached the front, they peered out of the large glass window, and it immediately shattered with gunfire.
Ace hit the floor, and Brandt rolled around, pressing his back into the wall next to the window frame.
“HEY!” the Sheriff screamed. “I’ll come out! Don’t shoot me!”
One of the mercenaries laughed. “Yeah, come on out, piggy,” he called in a singsong voice, followed by a chorus of snorting.
“I’m not with these assholes,” Brandt cried, and Ace’s gaze darkened. “I’ll even help you take ‘em out!”
“Idiot,” the redneck muttered under his breath, staying on the floor as Brandt stepped into the window.
The mercenaries immediately opened fire again, and a bullet caught the Sheriff in the arm. He grunted and dove back behind cover.
“Goddammit!” he cried, incredulity in his voice.
Ace was torn between being angry at him and amused that his selfishness had gotten him shot. “How many times do we have to tell you these guys ain’t fucking around before you believe us?” he asked, shaking his head.
He peeked up a little, seeing all four mercenaries out front, walking slowly with their guns aimed towards the store. He began to crawl along the floor back towards the storeroom, and Brandt hissed, but followed him.
“We gotta beat ‘em to the back door,” Ace grunted as he got to his feet. “That is if you still want to get out of this alive.”
The Sheriff simply huffed in response and followed him through the back storeroom. They ran past the side door that still had thumping on it and inched open the back door. The alley was clear, with a pack of thirty or so ghouls headed their way from the far end.
“They’re going out the back!” one of the mercenaries cried from inside the store, and Ace leapt into the alley.
Brandt fired towards the inside, backing out next to Ace. “Let’s go!” he cried, but the redneck shook his head.
“Let’s keep ‘em pinned down until those zombies get here,” he said, inclining his head towards the oncoming horde. “Find something to jam in the door so they can get in.”
“Are you crazy?!” the Sheriff demanded.
Ace simply grinned. “Don’t you know that by now?” he asked and motioned to a pile of chunks of wood next to a trash can. He fired his shotgun into the warehouse again and then ducked behind the door to avoid an onslaught of bullets.
“They’re outside!” somebody yelled from inside.
“We can’t get around back!” somebody else called back.
“That’s it,” Ace cooed quietly as he reloaded the
