Eat lead zombie.

They said that America conquered the world by exporting three major industries. Weapon munitions, movie and film, and fast-food franchising. You should have watched a Hollywood movie. And, eaten at McDonald's, Starbucks, or KFC, no matter where you were in the world. 

Also, if you liked history, video games, or guns, you knew how good America was at war. The American stereotype was that anyone from my country would do the following: 

Ate fast food three times a day. 

Was obese to the point of needing a mobility scooter. 

And knew how to work a firearm better than most of the law enforcement in the world. 

'I say horse shit! Just because a person was from America didn't mean he knew how to shoot. Well, I personally knew my way around a gun, but it wasn't because I was American!' 

My father was born in the seventies and participated in three wars in Panama and Iraq. He might not have been a good father, but he was an excellent soldier. 

From him, I learned to throw a punch and fire a gun. The gun in my hand was a Colt 1911, one of the most iconic pieces of American engineering. And right now, this weapon of war was my sole means of surviving this hellhole. 

A 1911's range was 160 ft. The zombies were closer than that. But even with certain death coming for me, I didn't fire. 

Why? Well, for one, it had been a while since I actually went shooting. The other reason? Shooting at a target did not mean you should open fire the moment it came into striking range. 

I had five adult-sized zombies coming for me. If I were the protagonist of an anime, I could score five headshots with five rounds. Simple, right? 

Yeah… that was bullshit. In actual combat, the odds of you scoring repeated headshots in quick succession were a myth. The recoil of a weapon ate at one's stamina. Muzzle flip, muscle strain, hell, even the wind affected each bullet. Only in games could you shoot a perfect bullet every time, all the time. 

'Besides, I am not even sure if they would stop moving if I shot them in the head.' 

I ejected the magazine and pulled back the slide twice. No matter the model, a gun jamming was always a possibility. In this situation, that would be the end of me. 

There were no problems. So, after my checks, I reinserted the magazine, pulled back the slide, and cocked the hammer. The zombies were now close enough for me to see the features on their faces. 

"Huff… disgusting. I guess no amount of CGI can… huff… beat the real thing," I wheezed. 

My heart continued to pump blood at max output as my body strained. My mind calmed after I made the decision to survive. By focusing my attention on the next sixty seconds, life became simple. 

'If I succeed, I live. If I fail to kill these five, I die.' 

With my mind and body in sync, everything became quiet. The last time I had felt like this was when my dad had left me in the woods, and I had taken down a gray wolf at 12 years old. 

'Focus. Breathe in. Breathe out. There.' 

With my hands gripping the gun firmly and my eyes looking down at the sights, I checked the zombies. They were filthy, bleeding, and in pieces—the perfect embodiment of horror. 

Three had no clothes on, with some of their bones showing here and there. Two of them appeared to be recently deceased applicants. All five had their mouths open as saliva dripped down. A symphony of groans and guttural sounds followed them as they walked toward me. 

Luckily, the zombies did not seem to run all out; otherwise, I would have already died. With eyes the color of fogged glass, their outstretched arms pointed at me. Each of them intended to hold me down and bite the living shit out of me. 

'You can have a piece, but you gotta earn it, motherfucker!' 

When they came near enough that I could see their teeth, I prepared myself. This was it. I took one last deep breath and moved my gun toward my intended target. 

"Eat lead, zombie," I declared in a calm voice. 

I fired the gun. I aimed at the lead zombies' knees. As five of them approached a single target, the closer they were to the target, the more they overlapped. 

This was the moment I had waited for. The moment the lead zombie fell, it flailed its arms, losing balance as it fell. Its body then tripped the zombies right behind it. 

I watched the undead face-plant to the ground. The three behind them couldn't stop or maneuver, so they kissed the floor, too. 

My gamble paid off! A high so intense sent my emotions to the sky. Aiming at the head meant the chance of hitting something was way lower. Aiming at the knees would ensure I either hit the other leg, thigh, or foot even if I missed. Knowing my time was limited, I pushed my bleeding leg up and dashed toward the enemies I had taken down. 

"AHH!" I roared, hoping my vigor would reduce the pain. 

My thigh felt like it was set on fire. The amount of blood I had lost made it surprising that I could still move, likely because of adrenaline. As I drew near to them, I immediately fired at the lead zombie's head. 

At this distance, the bullet exploded the zombie's skull as it tried to get up. The blood painted the ground with such force that some spattered on me. Disgusted as I was, I couldn't spare the attention. 

I clenched my jaw and pointed the 1911 towards the second zombie, the one whose kneecap I had destroyed. As I squeezed the trigger, I scored a hit with another round that flew. It exploded the deceased applicant's head in a manner resembling a small watermelon. 

My ears started to ring from the repeated gunshots, but I still had three zombies. In the time it took to kill the two, the other three began to stand up. Two were on top of one another while one was facing toward me a little bit further away. 

I rushed toward the lone one and stomped it back down on its back with my left foot. The army believed a 5'10" man should only weigh 185 lbs. At 200 lbs., hardly any of it being muscle, I was 10 lbs. away from being clinically obese. 

The zombie, being dead and all, struggled against my mass. The two other zombies finally stood up and closed in. 

I fired a .45 ACP round with my 1911 into the leading zombie's head, and a part of its skull broke apart. The body stopped moving and blocked the other one's approach. 

My arms grew numb from the tension and recoil. I shifted my aim to the last zombie with urgency and shot it dead. The 1911's slide no longer returned, indicating I had shot my last round. 

Afterward, I ejected my empty magazine and loaded a new one. Next, I brought down my gun behind me and blew the head off the last undead under my heel. Unlike the others, this one's head remained intact and ceased movement without a sound. 

'It didn't explode?' 

While I still had fifteen coming, I had earned a few seconds to breathe. My emotions went wild, resembling the effects of a drug. As I triumphed over certain death, I felt invincible. 

'I'm alive! I killed five zombies!' 

Fidgety and high-strung, I wanted to keep shooting. But the other groups were far from one another, seven to the left and eight to the right. 

"Huff…calm down, John. Huff…we're not out of the woods yet. Huff…" 

The brief sprint I did fucked up my right thigh. It looked like a serious injury as blood continued to pour out of it. I remembered that there was a major artery in the thigh. Luckily, I was still conscious, so it must have missed the artery or something. 

Fearing the worst, I moved the gun to my left and placed my hand on my thigh to stop the bleeding. 

"Hmm. There are too many. The moment I go for one group, the other will kill me…" 

Dread and terror once again tried to enter my mind. How the hell would I survive? 

It was only at this point that I felt my neck burning. No. When I checked, I found that it was the marble. Maybe this thing could help me, I wondered. 

I placed the gun under my armpit and touched the gem. 

The once cold gem now felt warm. When my fingers touched it, my mind got flooded with knowledge. The feeling made me dizzy, but I didn't stop. It felt like someone took a hammer and smashed my skull in. After a few seconds, the download ceased. 

I struggled to remain standing. Tired and exhausted, you could have tipped me over and I wouldn't have been surprised to die from it. Still, while I forced myself to stand up, inside — my spirit and soul were set ablaze. 

Fate had yet to abandon me. It only took a few seconds, but what I learned just now changed the situation completely. 

"HAHAHAHAHA! COME AT ME, YOU FUCKERS!" I hollered at the top of my voice. 

With my fighting spirit rekindled anew, I gritted my teeth and smiled. Round two could not come soon enough.