There was a faint, [i]slllck[/i] as Brandon stuck the combat knife through the the temple of a zombie. There was a small group of six around him. "Shit." He mumbled. There was a small puddle of blood nearby. Brandon ripped of a piece of cloth from a dead woman's shirt, drenched it in the blood, and put the cloth over his gun. Most were distracted from the fire, but he didn't want to risk attracting them back. Under the cloth of blood, the go shot sounded like a slamming door, but with the moaning of the zombies, it was barely heard. 

After most were killed and the rest burning in the evergrowing fire, and his comrades nowhere to be found, Brandon sat back against a metal barrel. 'A barrel. Of what?' He thought. Oil. He jumped up and ran. [b]BOOM![/b] the sound echoed through the alleyway, and the glass of the motel shattered with a [i]crash![/i].
"Oil. How could I have been so st- cauhh, cauht!" Smoke entered his lungs as he spoke. There was an oil reserve further down, and a truck must have passed by carrying it. 'That must have gotten their attention.' He thought as he blacked out.