BATTLEFIELD [6]

'Er … guys,' Logan shouted as he and Xian Mei, standing back to back, began firing at the fastest of the approaching zombies. Suddenly something dropped from above, and although it only caught them a glancing blow, it was enough to knock Xian Mei off her feet and send her gun flying out of her hand. Logan barely had time to register that what had hit them was one of the infected, which had apparently been so desperate to attack that it had taken the most direct route from an upper balcony, before the rest of the zombies converged on them.

'Guys!' he yelled again, firing desperately into the mass of clawing hands and viciously snarling faces. Somewhere close to him, he heard Xian Mei screaming in terror and pain, and then, wrenched and buffeted from all sides, he went down. He began to struggle frantically, punching and kicking, as faces lunged in at him. He felt a sharp pain in his leg, and then another in his upper arm.

'No!' he thought. 'I won't fucking die like this!'

Then there were gunshots, running feet, a confusion of noise, and suddenly he was showered with blood and brains as the hideous, rage-filled faces above him were blasted apart one by one. A couple of seconds later, those faces were replaced by one he recognized. It was Sam, his wide eyes alive with anxiety and concern.

'Hey, man, you OK?' he asked.

'Apart from nearly becoming a Happy Meal, I'm great,' replied Logan. He tried to rise and felt pain shoot through his left arm and right leg. 'Ow! Fuck! That hurts!'

'You're bitten, man,' said Sam. 'Can you stand?'

Logan gritted his teeth. 'Yes, I can stand. If I can't I'm fucking dead, right?'

With Sam's and – surprisingly – Kevin's help, Logan rose to his feet. Vaguely, through the swimming pain in his head, he was still aware of gunshots being fired, of zombies dropping like cattle in an abattoir.

'How's Xian Mei?' he gasped.

'She'll be fine. Come on.'

'Where we going?'

'No questions. Just come on.'

Staggering, limping, supported on one side by Kevin and on the other by Sam, who was firing from the hip, blowing advancing zombies aside as they went, they made it to the door at the far side of the room.

When they were through, Sam quickly but gently lowered Logan to the ground. Logan sat with his back against the wall, wondering where his gun had gone, willing his head to stop spinning. Everything was still a blur, however, a mush of noise and activity. He was aware of people running towards him, of more shots being fired, and then what sounded like whimpers of pain. He tried to focus, to concentrate, but the sounds ran together, became distorted, and he felt as if he was sinking into a deep well. He tried to claw his way back towards the light, but thick velvety blackness swamped him, rolling over him in waves. Finally, unable to find the strength to fight it any longer, he passed out…

… and woke what seemed like seconds later, gasping in shock. 'How you doing?' asked a voice.

Sam. It was Sam. Logan blinked at him.