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they knew the smell as well as I did. A set of stairs let up to the right, and to my left, an entrance to a dining room. I kept the12 gauge pointed down the hall, and Ahmed aimed his pistol up the stairs. Jonesy stepped past me into the dining room, looking for the red glow from Zombie eyes. We worked our way around this way through the kitchen, the rear most man, Ahmed, keeping watch behind us, Jonesy and I alternating entering each room. Nothing in the kitchen, or a back bedroom. We moved back into the hallway, calling out softly to the rest of the team so they would know it was us.
    Upstairs, the same thing. Nothing except three empty bedrooms, two of them decorated with the typical kid stuff. I started to relax, but then remembered we had to check the basement.
    “Basement” said Ahmed, and I nodded. He wouldn’t forget. The guy was a machine; he never missed a step. Jonesy chuckled to himself.
    “ Whooboy, I know how you love basements, Nick.”
    “Suck it.”
    “No thanks. I didn’t do it in prison, and I ain’t gonna do it now.”
    I ignored him and moved on down the stairs , waving Brit and the rest of the team in. The entrance to the basement was under the stairway, and I put my hand on the doorknob.
    “Hey Boss, want me to go first?”
    “No Hernandez, I got this. Get a little more experience under your belt, then you can be my guest.”  I was sweating under my mechanics gloves. For some reason, Undead always tried to hide in the basement. I just didn’t like them heading down into the darkness where anything could reach up from below. I would have killed to be able to throw a flashbang down the stairs, but I couldn’t, since we were trying to be quiet. Likewise for a magnesium flare, it could easily burn the house down. I compromised and cracked open a chem light, shook it, opened the door, then tossed it in. I quietly shut the door, counted to five slowly, then opened it.
    The sickly green chem light gave illumination to three figures, hunched over the light, trying to figure out what it was. Or whatever Zombies do. When they heard the door open, they turned as one at the sound and launched themselves up the stairs at me.
    I fired once, catching a fat adult male in the neck. The impact of the buckshot ripped half his neck away and spun him around onto the others. I madly pumped another shell and fired again, taking off the top of his head. A line of holes appeared in the drywall in front of me as Ahmed and Jonesy, hearing the loud COUGH from my gun, fired blindly into the basement. One of the Zs, a little girl, went down, a 9mm slug catching it in the side of the head, but the last, a gawky teenaged kid, rushed up the stairs at me. I fired again, blowing a hole in the Zs’ stomach, and tried to back up, but tripped on the top step, falling backwards, landing on my ass. The thing reached for my leg and grabbed hold with a grip of steel, trying to bite me. I kicked out as hard as I could with my other boot, but it didn’t let go. Shit shit shit. The pants leg of my cheap ass Army Combat Uniform ripped, and his hand slid off. Ahmed coolly placed his pistol next to my face and fired directly into the top of its head. I turned away just as he fired, avoiding getting any of the brain, bits of skull and gore that splashed back on my face into my mouth. My hearing was going to be crap.
    “You know, hollow points are illegal under the Geneva Convention, right?” laughed Doc as I tried wipe off the gore from my uniform. “Good thing none of that got in your mouth, or Ahmed’s next one would have been through YOUR head.” We were gathered in the kitchen, and had a propane lantern running, after putting heavy sheets over the windows.
    I picked a piece of bone out of the sleeve of my Gortex jacket and threw it on the floor. “Shut up. THAT is why I don’t like basements. Do me a favor, set up the Guard roster. I’m going to see if there is any water pressure, try and maybe clean some of this up, and get