The damn M16 jammed again.
He ejected the magazine and tapped it against his helmet before slamming it back into the gun. He held his breath and he squeezed the trigger.
Click.
“Fuck!”
He wasn’t having much luck. The hordes of undead were on him and his end was coming. He wished he had a machete. Machetes don’t run out of bullets and they sure as hell don’t jam.
He reached into his hip pouch and pulled out his last grenade just as the horde closed in.
“Come and get me, you dead FUCKS!” he screamed as he pulled the pin.
Be First to Comment