"Okay, okay get that shot!" the reporter said to his cameraman. He was pointing up the street to a gathered mass of infected people in front of the neighborhood grocery store, pressing up against the front doors. On the roof looking down at them was what appeared to be a small group of survivors, one of whom was armed with some sort of rifle.
The cameraman zoomed in just in time to record the sound of a single gunshot, and an explosion of blood and brain among the crowd. He panned up to see the armed man, who was reloading his gun. The group then disappeared from sight.
The reporter crouched down behind a parked car and motioned for the cameraman to do the same. "Are you still rolling?" he asked.
"Yeah, keep talking," the cameraman said, pointing his camera at his partner. The reporter nodded and lifted his microphone up to his mouth.
"It has been one week since the infection that has swept across the Southeastern United States was first seen, and as you can see to my right," he motioned to the mass of infected behind him, "the results have been disastrous. With little experience in the field of medicine, it is this reporter's opinion that these people have become seriously disturbed due to their illness, and have been driven into a mad frenzy at this local storefront."
The reporter motioned to the cameraman to cut the camera. "I wanna move in closer."
"I don't know, man," the cameraman said as he shifted on his feet. "Those guys look pretty annoyed." He motioned toward one of the infected, who had broken a glass pane on the front of the store, and now they were all funneling in.
"I want to get this on camera! And see if we can't catch the people on the roof again."
The cameraman began filming again. By now, the street was mostly empty, but loud shouting and automatic gunfire could be heard from inside the store. It sounded like someone was giving orders. The voice was stern, even toned, and authoritative. The two journalists ran, still low to the ground, closer to another parked car just across from the store.
"Move to the back! Get into the butchery, I'll hold them off!" a voice shouted. More gunfire. Then, quiet. The cameraman lowered his heavy camera, and the reporter stared into the store intently. Finally, the sound of a moving vehicle filled the air, and skidding around the back of the store came a box truck, barreling toward the two crouched men with no signs of slowing. The reporter stood up and flagged the truck down. The truck slowed, and the passenger window was rolled down.
"Are either of you bit?" the passenger asked briskly. The reporter and his cameraman shook their heads. "Okay," he said. "If you're lying, you're dead. Get in the back of the truck. And hurry up!" the passenger ordered, rolling his window back up.
The two men quickly boarded the truck, door closed behind them as they saw a crowd of infected running from the back and front of the store at the truck.
The cameraman zoomed in just in time to record the sound of a single gunshot, and an explosion of blood and brain among the crowd. He panned up to see the armed man, who was reloading his gun. The group then disappeared from sight.
The reporter crouched down behind a parked car and motioned for the cameraman to do the same. "Are you still rolling?" he asked.
"Yeah, keep talking," the cameraman said, pointing his camera at his partner. The reporter nodded and lifted his microphone up to his mouth.
"It has been one week since the infection that has swept across the Southeastern United States was first seen, and as you can see to my right," he motioned to the mass of infected behind him, "the results have been disastrous. With little experience in the field of medicine, it is this reporter's opinion that these people have become seriously disturbed due to their illness, and have been driven into a mad frenzy at this local storefront."
The reporter motioned to the cameraman to cut the camera. "I wanna move in closer."
"I don't know, man," the cameraman said as he shifted on his feet. "Those guys look pretty annoyed." He motioned toward one of the infected, who had broken a glass pane on the front of the store, and now they were all funneling in.
"I want to get this on camera! And see if we can't catch the people on the roof again."
The cameraman began filming again. By now, the street was mostly empty, but loud shouting and automatic gunfire could be heard from inside the store. It sounded like someone was giving orders. The voice was stern, even toned, and authoritative. The two journalists ran, still low to the ground, closer to another parked car just across from the store.
"Move to the back! Get into the butchery, I'll hold them off!" a voice shouted. More gunfire. Then, quiet. The cameraman lowered his heavy camera, and the reporter stared into the store intently. Finally, the sound of a moving vehicle filled the air, and skidding around the back of the store came a box truck, barreling toward the two crouched men with no signs of slowing. The reporter stood up and flagged the truck down. The truck slowed, and the passenger window was rolled down.
"Are either of you bit?" the passenger asked briskly. The reporter and his cameraman shook their heads. "Okay," he said. "If you're lying, you're dead. Get in the back of the truck. And hurry up!" the passenger ordered, rolling his window back up.
The two men quickly boarded the truck, door closed behind them as they saw a crowd of infected running from the back and front of the store at the truck.