The Zombie Warehouse

[2P!Greece]

((Soap, you're in an amazingly large warehouse filled to the brim with zombies. Make your way out and - if you can/want - save the others trapped inside.))

"Fuck!" Harold screeched, scrambling across the concrete ground with all his might. His heart raced with adrenaline and threatened to fly out of his mouth, if it could get past his clentched jaw and gritting teeth. He never thought that he'd be in such a panicked like this before, but now that he was he couldn't think of what to do but run for his life.
As soon as he had enough space between him and his followers he scrampered up to his feet and shot off in a sprint down the concrete hall of the warehouse he foolishly trapped himself in. His heavy footsteps echoed down the tight halls, drowning out his breaths and the schuffling behind him. With a squeak he turned the on coming corner, where a door waited for him. Slamming against the door, he took hold of the knob with shaking hands the jiggled it till he heard a click and the door flew open. Tripping into the room he slammed the door shut with a kick of his legs, looking around the room franatically. From what he could see he was on a catwalk that lead to the other side of the large open room that he could only guess had large industrial shelves stacked high with various crates strewn about. He could only imagine the swarming terror that swam through the aisle bellow.
A loud thumping at the door behind him made him jump quickly to his feet. Glancing at the door for a moment he took a deep breath. "There's no way to get around these fuck'rs, huh?" he said to himself, smirking at the challenge - clearly forgetting how terrifying it was to not have them in the same room clawing at his ankles. Strutting up to the door he puntted it with his foot, jumping backwards onto his back when a louder thump and a creaking sound came from the other end. Rubbing the back of his head and giving an awkward laugh he got back up to his feet, turned, and ran towards the other end of the catwalk, where he hoped to find a way out.

Nearing the end of the walk, Harold felt despiration seep into his heart as the door behind him burst open, allowing a flood of zombies to come rolling through - some falling into the sea of its own kind below - and began to stagger their ways towards him. Even more to his dispare the catwalk gave him no hope for at the end he was met with a wall much like all the others surrounding him; a prison. "There are more sections," he said to himself, voice wavering as he looked over to the nearest shelf and readying himself to jump to it, "Maybe there are other survivors... Maybe there's an exit and some food..."
He leaped forward, his arms just barely able to grab hold of the edge to suspend him about the groping sea below. With a grunt he pulled himself up and began jumping a path through the room and towards another section of the warehouse where he hoped to find... well... hope.