“The one that had me,” Trojan was saying, “the one with the tongue, is called a smoker.”
“If it’s got a long tongue, why do they call it a smoker,” Rocket asked.
“Cause they explode in a cloud of smoke when you kill them.” When he saw that no other questions wer coming his way, he continued. “You’ve already met the witch. As long as you leave her alone, she’ll leave you alone. If you piss her off though, you’re in a lot of trouble.
“There’s one out there called a boomer, which are the really fat ones. They puke on you and their puke attracts other zombies. Try to kill them from a distance, too. When they die, they explode, covering the whole area in their puke. I’ve heard that someone has figured out how to bottle the puke and use it as a weapon, but I haven’t seen it.
“Hunters are zombies that can jump on you from over fifty feet away. They’ll jump on you, pin your arms down, and tear into you with their claws. Unless you’ve got friends with you, you’re dead if one gets you.
“Chargers are big, tall zombies. They’ll run up and grab you, then keep running until they smash you into something. Once they do that, they’ll start to pick you up and smash you into the ground, repeatedly. They’ll keep doing this until you die or someone else kills them.
“A jockey is a short zombie that will jump on your shoulders. Somehow they’re able to steer you any way they want. I’ve seen them make someone walk off of a bridge. I’m still not sure how they do it. Spitters are zombies that spit a bright green goo at you. If that stuff hits you, it burns the hell out of you. The goo sticks around for a little bit, too, so make sure you get away from it as quickly as you can.
“The last one… well, you better hope that you never run into the last one.” Trojan paused for a minute before continuing. The others, sensing he was lost in thought, let him go until he was ready to start again. “The last one is called a tank. Tanks are ten feet tall and almost as wide. They are solid muscle. A tank can knock you twenty feet when it hits you. It can throw cars at you. To survive a tank, you need everyone hitting it with everything they have as soon as you see it, and, even then, it may not be enough.”
Rocket, who at first thought Trojan was joking, stifled a laugh when he saw the sad look on the other man’s face. “There’s seriously zombies like the tank out there,” he asked.
“Go check the road back by where you found me and you’ll see the body of one. It’s what killed…”
None of them knew what to say to Trojan, but the silence was too awkward for Rocket to take. “Not that I doubt you, but we should head back to the road. I want to see this thing with my own eyes. Besides, we might be able to find the rest of your group, or maybe find some clue as to which way they went.”
Trojan wasn’t holding his breath. They had come to Rocket’s safe house to resupply their ammo. On the way, they heard a lot of gunfire in the distance, but it stopped suddenly right before he started explaining the different types of special infected. He hoped the silence was a good thing, although he was mentally preparing himself for the possibility that they might only find bodies when they got back to the road.
Before heading out the door, Trojan grabbed a few extra clips of ammo for the pistol he had taken from Bobby. He also took one of his shotguns and as many shells for it that he could carry. “Let’s do this,” he said as he pumped the shotgun.
After throwing the molotovs, only a few zombies remained. The four of them were able to take them out fairly quickly. They slowly made their way back to the body of the tank. Wildcat told the others to keep their eyes open for zombies while he tried to find clues to what happened to Trojan. Everything looked the same as the last time he was here.
Not knowing what else to do, he put himself in the same position that Trojan was in the last time he saw him. He knelt down next to the body of Trojan’s wife. Looking around, he still didn’t see anything helpful. Sorrow started settling in as he began thinking that they were going to have to give up their search. Wildcat stood back up and took one last look around. Off to his side, he saw Spartan give the signal to stay quiet.
Wildcat walked over to him. “What is it,” he whispered.
Spartan adjusted the aim of his shotgun to cover an area of tall grass around twenty feet away. “There’s something in there. I heard it.”
Wildcat looked through his scope to see if he could see anything that Spartan couldn’t. The only thing he saw were patches of darkness that weren’t visible from where they stood. He signalled the other two forward.
“You two watch our backs,” he ordered. “There’s something behind that grass, but I can’t make it out from here. We’re going to go check it out.”
Spartan went first, with Wildcat five steps behind. When Spartan was five feet away from the grass, he heard a new noise. He dropped to one knee and aimed his shotgun straight ahead. Wildcat brought his rifle up as well, but refrained from using the scope because it would take too long to readjust it. Then, they heard the noise again. It sounded like a foot stepping in a puddle. Putting his finger tight on the trigger, Spartan took another step forward.
Wildcat was going to follow suit, but he stopped when he heard something else. It was a familiar voice saying, “If you don’t stop pointing that gun at me, Spartan, I’m going to take it from you and stick it up your ass.”