What a fucking week.

First off, Sticky was proven wrong about his “zombie cloak” protecting his scent from flesh-eaters.  What a crock of shit.  We were about to check out this grocery store that looked abandoned when Sticky suggests the tar again.  We hadn’t seen so much as drop of blood for days, so I had to consider it.  So here we are all lubed up in this shit, sticky and smelling of burnt coal while we do a perimeter check.  The place was deserted, no electricity, so we go and crack open the sliding glass doors.  What a cluster-fuck.  The in the back of the store stood about fifty lifeless bodies.  Wall to wall ghouls oblivious to the world, and in walk three juicy humans ripe for the picking.  No zombie cloak.  As far as the zombies were concerned, we were dipped in chocolate.

Ya know, there’s a nice little moment you have with a zombie the first time you lock eyes.  It takes about 3-4 seconds before he’ll realize you’re human, especially if you startle one of them.  And in that moment, you have the slight advantage to plan the last minute of your life.

Those doors slid open, and we opened fire into the lot of ‘em before they had any idea.  Tamara was at the truck with the sniper rifle picking off any that got through the door.  After a minute or two, the street filled up and we made a run for the truck.  Thank god that thing has some power, we mowed over half of them driving away.  I still have that fucking tar on my clothes.

I give Sticky shit for using a shotgun, but honestly, it does the job in situations like that.  In close quarters with no need for stealth, the shotgun has the stopping power you need.  Not saying I’m giving up my Desert Eagle, but as long as we’re a team I feel better knowing he’s standing close by.