Revenge by Chris Wilson (nonfiction book recommendations .txt) 📖

/> Matthew quickly darted from cover to cover, picking a route that would be longer, but safer in the long run. He caught sight of a person up on the high overview deck where the Resistances' strategists would gather. He saw the figure moving slowly, and realized it was the follower that had warned the rest of the Resistance about their remaining. Anger flooded through his veins. He was still alive! He saw him snipe, his gun aimed at the clump of bushes were he had been hiding earlier. Realizing that the sniper had just harmed a fellow Zombie, he raised his assassination weapon. He hated the living, and would be glad to rid this follower of that privilege.
Tristen spotted his victim, a sniper up high on the deck the Resistance used for their strategic purposes. He tipped his shot with Zombie poison, grinning as he did so. He had been hoping to save the poison for a convenient time, this deemed to be a good one. He fired, and saw the figure slump a little, the weapon falling the few inches it had been held up by to the ground. Looking around for other targets, he saw some snipers line up (How foolish! he thought) to find the attackers. Taking them out one by one, only the last of them managed to point their snipes his way before he finished them all off. Seeing that the Zombies had a sniper as well, every other gunner hid. Except for one. And that one fired his Disabler right at him. Tristen's gun shut off, and he threw it down in frustration.
Elizabeth managed to get behind the big, weathered, and half-destroyed boulder without being shot. Setting up the stand and placing the Fear Embellishment on it, she aimed it precisely so she could hit the area around the Obliverator. Laying there, crouched and hunched over the gun, Elizabeth's torn, tattered and dusty clothing seemed relatively clean in comparison to any skin exposed, where layers of a mixture of dirt, mud, and grime had turned rock-solid and wouldn't have budged if you had taken a jackhammer to it, providing a natural layer of crusted armour. She realised the large boulder may protect her from most blasts, but at the cost of visibility. Hard as it was to aim at something she couldn't see, years of practice helped in keeping her aim true. Firing with sure hands, she quickly reloaded, aimed, and fired again towards where she guessed the largest collection of troops were. Hastily packing up the Fear Embellishment and its stand, she dashed towards a close knot of trees, and not a second too late. The huge boulder behind her shattered into a million grains of sand and crumbled like water the moment she left it. Setting up the stand and weapon again with agility, she remembered that the Obliverator can be mechanically ran; with no person was operating it, it would be impossible to stop it from firing again unless Matt hurried up and shut off the power...
Richard was a good actor, and it probably just saved his life. Several attempts to end his life had occurred, a mixture of luck and acting got him through it with only a slight injury to his left side. He had managed to make it look like the shot in his side had actually killed him. He had seen where the shots had come from, and when he looked through his sniper's scope he could see a heavily bandaged and bald man wearing torn blue jeans that leaked blood and were too short and a grimy green sport shirt to help absorb his sweat. He had a nose that looked as if it had been broken at least once in its life and several teeth missing, giving him the appearance of a Jack-O-Lantern. He looked tense with concentration, several beads of sweat ran down his neck and face. He had dirt and mud caked on his clothing and skin. It didn't appear that Zombies took baths. A long scar ran diagonal from above his left eye, over his nose, and all the way down to his lower neck. His teeth were gritted with concentration, and one eye was closed as he took aim...or was it because he was blind in that eye? Richard aimed for his only open eye, and fired quickly, hoping to kill the Zombie before it killed anyone else. He missed the open eye, but the bullet had hit the Zombies' head.
When two other near misses whizzed past him and left his ears ringing, he realized there was more than just one Zombie. He slumped slightly and dropped his gun, using acting supreme enough to get an award had he been on a stage. He had heard the scream of 'Our weapons!' and saw the shot of a Blade Runner fly at the base. Now he was slowly and carefully turning his head, looking for any cover nearby. He heard his neck crick and pop, for it had a cramp, and only barely stopped a whimper of pain. Seeing an overturned chair as the nearest cover, he tensed his leg muscles and prepared for a sudden dash. Then suddenly, he stood up and dived behind the overturned chair, turning his dive into a roll in the last possible second to help the impact. Keeping his momentum, he stood slightly as he rushed forward in a crouched run, sliding quickly just before he fell down the stairs to stop. Speeding down the stairs, he winced in pain as his legs gave him a spasm of pain. Apparently he had done a very poor roll earlier, and now it was taking its toll.
Joel Histe was a machine gun specialist, when they came out with the new chain guns it was essential for him to learn how to use them. He found all the bad quirks about the gun, and made improvements to it. The gun had been given a names by Joel's co-workers: Dent. He thought it was rather childish to name a weapon of war, but eventually grew to like the name. Tall, smart, and dirty, Joel almost always had spots of oil, stains of gas, and burns and cuts along his arms and legs. He had a lean figure, his chest was thin enough to reveal his ribs even through his shirt. Many said he should eat more, but his thinness came from over-extensive exercises. He had a slight swagger, when he was in a hurry everyone moved out of his way for fear of being run over. Thin as he was, muscles could be seen bulging out of his arms and legs. He had a trim, filthy brown shirt heavy with sweat, and dark, muddy pants torn at the ankles. He had a knife hidden in his tight steel-toed boots, he often sharpened the blade when waiting for an upcoming battle. He had earned the title 'Weapons Specialist' by his leader, and held to the title. Always fixing little quirks and torques, he deserved the name. As for using the weaponry, he was also quite a skilled gunman, sniper, and demolitions expert.
Joel held Dent close to his chest, ready for any unpleasant surprises that often came with a Zombie scouting mission. How they knew it was a scouting mission is because they hadn't brought their vehicles with them, their massive destruction hard to avoid. Joel was positioned as a back guard, any Zombie attempting to come around behind the fortress for a sneak attack was in for a nasty surprise. Upon hearing a slight sound of movement in a cluster of trees in his sight, Joel quickly pointed and fired his weapon at the trees, ripping them to shreds in an instant. No movement could be seen, no sound could be heard, yet no body could be seen as well. Still wary, Joel wasn't very surprised when he heard a metallic shuffle, he presumed it was a Zombie drawing his gun. Crouching low and ducking behind the gunning platform for his gun to fire through, Joel barely moved in time to avoid the shots that were unheard. Wondering why he only heard the click of the gun being fired rather than a loud Boom!, Joel realized that the Zombie he was versus must be wielding an assassination weapon.
Memories of previous engagements versus these silent killer weapons filled his mind. From experience he knew they would be deadly if the shot hit any part of his body, due to Zombie poison, and it would be a painful death indeed. He also knew the bullets could curve slightly, making the bullet harder to take out. It also meant a skilled gunman could jerk his gun slightly as he fired to curve the bullet around or over or under an obstacle to hit its' target. With this in mind, He slowly moved his gunner's platform towards the wall. Once he was against it, he crouched into an uncomfortable position against the wall and pressed into the ground. He hoped it would be enough to avoid a deadly curved bullet, and he doubted they would come up close behind him. Arranging himself in the most comfortable position he could manage, he started examining the area in front of him. If he could find a Zombie in hiding, he might be able to deliver a fatal blow...
Matthew crawled out of sight and earshot of the gunman. The gunman had caught him by surprise, and the wearied man was a better shot than he had initially presumed. He would have merely jumped over and behind the gunman, then stabbed him in the back had it not been for the turret covering him from the higher point. He crawled up the wall, using his long, pointed fingernails to penetrate through the steel makeshift wall. Upon entering the turrets' fire range, it rose out of the ceiling and pointed at him. By the time it had the shot ready, Matthew had cracked its' scope using his Gore Blade. Having already been briefed about the Resistances new turrets, he knew this was where the casing held the computers targeting and firing system. With an electric buzz, the machine returned down it's turret hole, the Gore Blade still in it.
Unprepared, Matthew barely stopped the top from closing and sealing his Gore Blade away. Snapping off the weak cover, Matthew plunged his hand into the hole to reclaim his Gore Blade. Just as he felt the Gore Blade and grabbed onto the handle to yank it out, defensive shocks of voltage went through the machine. Matthew was wearing black, rubber, dirty, mud encrusted, and light gloves, but even through the gloves he felt the pain, flinching and gritting his teeth, Matthew yanked with all his force as his muscled cramped and cried out in pain. Pulling out the whole turret with the glove, the yank split the turret from its base. The machine shut off, and the shocks stopped, yet the pain continued. Gasping in pain and letting his body fall onto the hard metal, he made a mental note NOT to do that again. About five minutes later, he got back up and used his foot to kick away the destroyed turret while still holding onto the handle of the Gore Blade. The remains of the machine clattered onto the rooftop noisily, and by the time a small crew of Resistance members had gotten onto the roof to see what happened, no one was to be seen.
Joel had waited for about five minutes before moving to a more comfortable position. Nothing had moved aside from small, lush grass blades swaying with the wind.
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