A Crash

     The gunshots were easy to follow, because they just so happened to be coming from the direction he had already been going. He skirted past clusters of mushrooms, making his way quickly down the halls until finally he came to a set of blast doors. Above them was a sign that said ENGINEERING  in thick blocky lettering, and the line on the floor ended at the thick doors which were partially open.      Kevin could hear snarling as he approached, amid the rapport of the pistol and faintly audible yells of "Yeah!" and "Get some!" and "Is that all you got you ugly motherfuckers?" Peeking in the door he saw at least twenty of the toothy monsters attacking a woman standing on top of a shelf of spare parts. Impressively the majority of the monsters were dead, and the eight or so were attempting to climb over their fallen brethren to get at the woman laying fire into them.      He watched in awe as she took aim and fired again and again and ag...

     He blinked. Obviously he knew the woman with the ram. He couldn't place the name, but he knew the face was important to him. He shook his head, trying to clear the memory and in the process, saw - shoved behind one of the bullet-proof vests below the rack - the barrel of a 12-guage. He reached for it, an electricity in the air as he gripped it, pulling it up to a firing position. It felt natural, looking down the sights was like coming home after a long deployment. It was where he belonged.     This was an interesting new feeling, sitting right alongside his claustrophobia, but where the claustrophobia came from a place of fear and helplessness, this feeling was at the opposite end of the spectrum: a feeling of being powerful.     It also didn't hurt that this would work better against the monstrosities than his pistol...     Counting the shotgun shells, he only had 10, which was less than half of the amount of rounds that he had for the...