My memories reminded me of the days when I spent some of my holidays at Max' home. During one of such days, Max and I sat on a grey leathered couch in the brown wooden living room, watching a crime series named,' Sinners of Rio', a television series that told the tales of a police department hunting down the biggest crooks of Rio. We were watching episode twelve of season six of the film, which showed Brutal Freeman(His real name is Rockie Freeman, but he prefered being called Brutal Freeman instead), a ruthless cop scaring the hell out of a criminal with a revolver loaded with one bullet. The criminal would always sweat furiously each time the cylinder was spinned and the gun was pointed at the right side of his head. His eyes would shut tight when Brutal pulled the trigger. His ears would then pick up the sound of laughter each time his head wasn't blown off to pieces. This was repeated three times until the criminal finally gave Brutal the information he wanted.
   " This doesn't make any sense", I had said while the criminal spoke to Brutal after the torment.
   " What doesn't make sense Joe?", asked Max.
   " I mean, there's only one bullet in the revolver, and since the cylinder is spinned always then there's a high chance he'll live if the trigger is pulled".
Max laughed his heart out at my response. I sat there confused, wondering what was so funny in what I had said.
   " You scientists and your probabilities! Don't you know that that one bullet still counts?".
   " I don't get you sir".
   " If I'm fighting a soldier who has a fully loaded Ak-47 with reloads and I'm down to only a revolver with one bullet, I can still win the fight if I kill him with that bullet, even if I spinned the cylinder Joe. That's what I call a one lucky shot".
   " But still the odds are against you sir".
   " It doesn't mean anything Joe. That's why that criminal was afraid. He knows that that one bullet still counts, that its going to take him straight to hell to see the devil tormenting him. Remember Joe, a gun with one bullet is still as deadly as a fully loaded mini-gun".
I had thought about what he had said that day and repeated his last sentence in my head," Okay sir, if you say so".
   Max smiled," Trust me Joe. I wouldn't mind grabbing a one-bullet revolver to save my life".
   And truly, I didn't mind either. I sprang to my feet and ran straight for the gun. The virus had taken full control of Musa. The zombie possessed Nigerian looked at the entrance of the room and didn't find me there. He roared, tore through the entrance of the room and ran straight for me. I dove for the gun, grabbed it, spinned the cylinder and stood up to be knocked in midair when Musa bashed me away with a wave of his right hand against my back. The cylinder spinned in midair and the revolver landed near a wall while I spinned carelessly in the air and hit the wall with my back and landed on the floor chest first. I groaned and heard Musa roaring again triumphantly. Quickly I crawled and grabbed the gun with my right hand just in time when Musa spranged to me and grabbed me by the waist, since his hand was large enough to do so. As my right hand clinged to the revolver, I remembered Musa's own words back on the school bus:
   " I'm not afraid, even in the face of monsters".
Those words were actually the fuel I needed that gave me hope and made me fearless. With courage I faced my enemy as he opened his mouth wide to chop off my head, pointed the gun at the opened mouth and pulled the trigger. It was a lucky shot that saved me. Out came the bullet that entered the mouth and blew off part of his brain. He stumbled backwards, let go off me and and fell with a thud, back first on the floor, eyes wide with still death, the evolved body no longer breathing.
I got up and walked over the dead body, panting my heart out. I sat on the floor and stared at the dead Nigerian. His mouth was still opened, still hoping to eat the head it was longing for. I rested my back on the floor and thanked God that I was still alive.
   Then I began hearing a cracking noise and stood up. The noise was from the room I left, so I staggered towards it and found Musa's walkie-talkie on. Someone was trying to contact us. With every hope that it was Blue and the others, I picked it up with eagerness and held it close to my mouth.
   " Blue! Lukeman! Do you copy?", I said with a happy sigh.
   " Nice to meet you Joe", said a dark muscular voice.
My breath seized for a moment when the voice spoke. All my joy was drowned into fear and anger.
   " Who is this?", I asked angrily," What do you want from us?".
   " I want you dead Joe. I want all of you dead. That's what I want", replied the voice. Then it gave a soft metallic laugh.
My heartbeat rose as the voice laughed. A deep wave of anger was upon me." Why are you doing all this?", I yelled," What wrong have I done to you?".
   " Listen here Joe. We're about to play a game that will consist of some chapters".
   " I'm not playing any game you bastard. Show your face and face me you coward!", I roared angrily at the walkie-talkie.
   " So eager Joe? I like that. Fate will make us meet some day. But first we play the game. Its called Mutation: Zombies Among Us. Let us begin chapter one: The might of the metal zombie. Goodluck at trying to save your friends Joe".
   The voice spoke no more. I dropped the walkie-talkie and felt my heart pounding as my memories recalled the one I battled in Washington, the one that was once my father. The building shook as the roar of a beast was heard, a similar roar to that of my father's. I clutched my hands into fists and ran out of the room and into a passenge. I jumped over large and small stones and followed the roar. Then I started hearing the sound of gunshots and the yelling of men after taking another passage to my right. With eagerness I increased my speed until I came to a wide area. The walls were painted white and I was on the second floor in the wide room. Then I heard the noises louder than before, and looking down over the steel fence of the walkway at the first floor, I saw the others shooting at a metallian, twice as large as my father, grabbing one man and tearing him in half.