Free Ace of Spades Chronicles : Book One by P.R.Sharp Page B

three infected, who had avoided taking a bullet and were now just yards from the subway where Zola was doing whatever it was he was doing. He slapped Xander on the arm, motioned towards the other subway, and ran over to the entrance. Xander immediately grabbed the L115A3, span back around on his knee and took aim at the first of the infected, who was approximately sixty yards away and about to enter the subway. The shot zipped by Corporal Yates and sent the infected sideways, catching him centre neck, just below the ear. Yates came to a full stop and stood in the centre of the subway mouth. He raised his SA80 and sprayed the other two infected around the neck area with a hail of 5.56 rounds, then turned and entered the tunnel as he released the empty magazine and swiftly reloaded with a fresh clip from his waistband.
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    Xander cursed the two senior team mates. As he turned, exasperated and frustrated by their actions, he saw an infected male attempting to climb the twisted remains of the foot bridge. The fiend had managed to get both forearms onto the subway floor and was struggling to lift his body weight up onto the edge. Xander fell to his stomach and pulled the scope atop the L115A3 towards his right eye. The creature’s dull face came into sharp contrast with the bright background of shrub and panel fencing; the reticle pinpointing an area of grey flesh and exposed bone, precisely between the eyes. Xander pulled the trigger and watched the body fall back in a puff of dark red mist, then he quickly resumed his firing stance from the subway mouth. Both his and Yates’s efforts had thinned the herd, and the fallen had created a knee high wall of bodies. Even so, there were still several hostiles progressing along the network of paths. A small group of five were upfront, with a gap of perhaps one hundred yards between them, and another, much larger group. A quick look to the right confirmed even more heading their way, barging each other as they shuffled down a pathway fenced on both sides. He shouldered the shotgun and tore open the Bergen. He pulled out Walker's SA80 and with nimble fingers, reassembled the weapon, loaded it with a full clip and put it to one side. He ignored Walker’s dismantled shotgun, but removed the side arm, its holster and magazine cache, placing this on the ground next to the SA80. Once he had found what he was really looking for, he tucked these items into his vest, reloaded his shot gun with seven rounds and ran out towards the group of five. Immediately, they became frantic and jerked with renewed energy, turning all their attention and aggression in his direction. He skidded and purposely fell down onto one knee, took aim and discharged three consecutive blasts at group. The first shot disintegrated one head in a spectacular cascade and damaged the next. The second shot finished the job of the first, and the third shot removed another head from the soft underside of the chin. He stood and aimed from the shoulder; he took his time. He knew he had one chance to get this right and only a few seconds to steady his nerve. He pulled the trigger and took out the last two of five with one shot, removing both heads as they lined up for him, less than three feet away. Before they hit the dirt, he shouldered the shotgun and removed the Bergen items from his vest; two anti-personal claymores. He placed the first in-situ, with the 'Front Toward Enemy' side facing back towards the larger group of infected, and with as much haste as he could muster, set the trip wire at an angle, so as to take out as many as he could face on. He set the second claymore at the foot of the long, fence panelled path, then ran back to the subway, reloading his shotgun on the fly.
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As Yates entered the subway, he could see Zola frantically packing plastic wallets of money into the lighting fixture above his head; his form and motion outlined by the bright morning sunlight that was fast ascending into the clear, blue sky,