CHAPTER 4: EMMA

Killing zombies was one of Emma Mitchell's favorite pastimes. To her, they made for easy, moving, yet dangerous targets. A few others found some disgust in her killing beings that looked like and were once people, but it had been scientifically proven that the monsters were not and could never again be human beings. With that, Emma saw no problem in massacring them wholesale. Of course, at this time, killing them was difficult.

Emma finally gave ground and started running back towards the shore. Using incendiary grenades and igniting gasoline she had previously placed, Emma kept the zombies' trail confused. Unfortunately, she ran out of incendiaries and was stuck with standard fragmentation grenades, which were far less effective against the undead. For some reason, they had a fear of open flames. It was conjectured that perhaps the monsters felt pain, but no one could prove it considering they groaned and howled no matter what.

Previously, Emma had been using her Knight's SR-25 sniper rifle, but then switched over to a TDI Kriss. Every two dozen or so feet, she would turn and fire a burst into her pursuers. Either that or she would drop a grenade. Just ahead of her was the hill she needed to get over. It was entirely made of electronic waste; mostly old computer monitors. Getting over it would be a challenge....

She darted up the hill, being very careful with her footing. One loose monitor, frame, or circuit board and down she went straight into the horde. Suddenly, she stumbled and watched as a small avalanche of components tumbled down. It was only through excellent reflexes and sheer willpower that she managed not to go down with them. In a pant of relief, she pulled herself back to her feet and resumed sprinting.

When she pulled herself over the top, Emma dropped another hand grenade. She wished so very much that she could watch the explosion, but this was impossible. By this time, the Paul would be getting underway... and she was right. Emma looked ahead to see the ship's crew starting up the engines. She would have to hurry majorly.

…

Liam left the drawbridge on the Paul down so Emma could board even as they pulled off the shore. He stood at the edge, keeping careful eye for his sister. Despite the danger, he figured she would be perfectly fine and make it. They had done this many times before. In fact, this is exactly what happened the last time they were in Agbogbloshie gathering materials. Except last time, Emma tried to stay behind and attempt to kill every single one of the zombies. That's impossible; even for her. Or is it?

Whatever.

Finally, he saw Emma come up over the ridge. She actually looked distressed. Could she have finally reached her breaking point? Not likely, Liam figured. He raised his SCAR and took aim. Just as soon as one of those monsters popped up....

There. He put one of the monster's head right the crosshair and pulled the trigger. Again. And again. And again.... Since Liam was about eight years old, his father had been training him with guns. Shooting was second nature to him; in fact, it was more than that. The Mitchell kids were at damn close to peak physical condition, nearly perfect shots, and stopped at absolutely nothing to get the job done. They were the result of parenting by necessity in a horrifying world; byproducts of the undead.

“Slow us down!” Liam ordered to LeFleur, the man driving the boat. He complied.

Liam dropped his magazine and slapped in a fresh one. This process took him less than five seconds. He looked back to his sister to see that she was getting closer and closer, with the zombies lagging behind further and further. It was in this moment that he simply knew she would make it. It wa not like before where he figured she would make it. No, Emma was going to make it; no doubt.

And then she tripped. Liam's first reaction was to roll his eyes and mutter, “God, Emma, you gotta screw this up too.” She tried to get up and tripped again. “Oh, dammit, she's not gonna make it! Hey! Hey! Stop the boat! Stop the damn boat!” Liam had to think fast... Emma did not have long. If he did not act fast, then his sister was lunch. Wincing, he finally exclaimed, “Aw- Give me some damn covering fire!” The crew on Paul rushed to the edge and opened fire. Liam bolted.

The water was still shallow enough that Liam managed to run from Paul all the way onto shore. He was only wet up to his hips, in other words, some of his magazines might have suddenly become useless. It didn't matter. When he was sure that Emma was within earshot, he shouted, “Duck! Get down, get down!” She lowered her head, paving way for Liam to start hosing bullets. It did very little to stop the oncoming horde. Even the covering fire from the people aboard Paul was not enough.

As soon as Liam arrived, Emma protested, “Liam, you're such a moron! You should have just left me!”

“Leave you?” Liam grunted as he picked her up. “Then who would I have to pick on?”

“Well, no one just like before, you turd.”

“Are you alright?” They began hobbling together towards Paul.

“Yeah, I got my ankle pretty bad.”

“You're gonna hate me for this.”

“Wha-” Liam suddenly lifted Emma off the ground and slung her over his shoulder. “Oh, put me down you-”

“Shutup!” Liam started running, this time at least twice as fast. Undeniably, the monstrosities were still faster, but this way they had a chance. “Me carrying you is much better than being eaten!”

“Debatable,” Emma snarled as she reloaded her Kriss and then opened fire. The horde was so close she could almost smell their blood-stenched breath. Emma reached to her belt to find a grenade, but then realized that she was out. Then she reached down to her brother's belt and found a nice incendiary. She pulled pin and chucked it, nailing the ugliest possible zombie straight on the head. It stumbled, caught the firebomb, looked at it curiously, and then burst into flames. Emma found two more and dropped in the path of the oncoming beasts. That would slow them down for sure.

Liam finally made footfall in the water. Paul was only about fifty feet away. Suddenly, Liam felt something grab his ankle. He lost his balance and down he went. In a reflexive action, he rolled to protect his sister, and drew his Springfield XD-45 Tactical pistol. But before he could fire, he felt a sharp, pressuring pain on his ankle. Liam looked down to see one of the zombies biting into him. Liam screamed in pain.

It stopped when Emma opened fire with her Taurus PT 24/7 G2 as she pulled herself to her feet. Her damaged ankle was obvious in her stride, but she fought it nevertheless. Liam tried to stand but failed. He reached down to his foot and found that his Achilles tendon must have been destroyed. There was no way he could use the foot. His sister turned, grabbed her brother, and dragged him through the water by the vest. She shouted in pain the whole way.

Liam's slide snapped back. He slid in a fresh magazine and continued his blasting. But stopped as soon as the saltwater poured into his wound. Liam screamed. Somehow his foot had managed to stay dry until this point, but suddenly it hurt. Massive, excruciating pain; easily the worst he had ever experienced. It seemed as though it would never stop.

And then finally, he felt steel beneath his back. They had arrived on Paul. Liam opened his eyes in time to see the boarding gate shut. His sister went down to his foot, removed his boot, and started applying a field dressing. Liam grunted, “Last time I stick my neck out for you.”

“It won't be and you know it,” she tightened the bandage.

Liam winced, “Only thing I hate more than being wrong is seeing you be right.”

Emma sat down beside him, “Looks like we're both out of commission for a while.”

“At least we got what we came for,” Liam replied, still not over his pain.

“Yeah,” Emma sighed. “You won't find me complaining if we never come to back to Agbogbloshie ever again.”

“I thought you liked shooting monsters.”

“It's not them,” Emma wiped sweat from her brow. “It's the smell.”