How to put out a fire
There's a fire! How should we put it out?
I'd let it burn. For now. The zombie apocalypse is coming, after all, and I'm not gonna have enough ammo, that's for sure. So I'll leave the fire alone. To burn. When the zombies come it would be my ally against the undead. It'll watch my back, as I gather my head shot count, it would make sure nothing sneaks up on me. But there's always that one last zombie, you know the one. That one that comes RIGHT when your out of ammo, and you don't know it.
I'll be there, amidst a former horde of zombies, heads all kabloomed out. That one last zombie would come, and - *click*, nothin. I'd look at the barrel, amazement and anger. Throwing the Makarov pistol at the figure shambling towards me, hell bent on devouring my brains. I'd curse at it as the rain started to fall, for dramatic effect of course. The fire would start to drown, dying out, but there would be a cinder left.
As it came forward I would struggle with the beastie as it snapped at my face, though it was only a few moments it would have felt like hours. Slipping and slidding in the now swelling mud, I'd toss the creature into that one last hope, the last bit of flame, covered by the brothers and sisters already dead.
Thankfully the rotting undead is still just the rotting dead. The gas in it's tummy would expel in the heat, and ignite. A final flare that would burst through the final zombie. Both would die, hissing and cackling.
And that is how I'd extinguish the fire.
I'd let it burn. For now. The zombie apocalypse is coming, after all, and I'm not gonna have enough ammo, that's for sure. So I'll leave the fire alone. To burn. When the zombies come it would be my ally against the undead. It'll watch my back, as I gather my head shot count, it would make sure nothing sneaks up on me. But there's always that one last zombie, you know the one. That one that comes RIGHT when your out of ammo, and you don't know it.
I'll be there, amidst a former horde of zombies, heads all kabloomed out. That one last zombie would come, and - *click*, nothin. I'd look at the barrel, amazement and anger. Throwing the Makarov pistol at the figure shambling towards me, hell bent on devouring my brains. I'd curse at it as the rain started to fall, for dramatic effect of course. The fire would start to drown, dying out, but there would be a cinder left.
As it came forward I would struggle with the beastie as it snapped at my face, though it was only a few moments it would have felt like hours. Slipping and slidding in the now swelling mud, I'd toss the creature into that one last hope, the last bit of flame, covered by the brothers and sisters already dead.
Thankfully the rotting undead is still just the rotting dead. The gas in it's tummy would expel in the heat, and ignite. A final flare that would burst through the final zombie. Both would die, hissing and cackling.
And that is how I'd extinguish the fire.
Snazzy Sig in a Spoiler