Zambies #1

Walter K. sat down on the roof of a 3-story apartment building breathing heavily. He had dropped the equipment bag beside himself, having carried it several miles and up a ladder. This was literally the most exercise Walter had ever done. After ten minutes of rest he finally got back up and opened up the backpack, taking out item after item, lining them up on the side of the roof, hordes of the infected crowding around the building already. Hank looked over the pieces of equipment- an AK-47 assault rifle, several jars of green, red and brown substances, unlit Molotov cocktails and extra ammo magazines. The young engineer smirked. Time to test the liquids. He first picked up the brown substance. First experiment- do zombies even burn. He placed one foot atop of the roof's side, one hand on his hip, the other holding the jar. He dropped it down onto the horde, spreading the fuel across the zombies. He then picked up one of the Molotov's and took a lighter from his pocket. He threw the bottle down as it lit up, the area below lighting up in the night, groaning and moaning, accompanied with the smell of burning and rotten flesh reaching up to the teenager. Experiment successful. He picked the red substance next. Time for experiment two. He threw the jar against the wall of the opposing building. Walter picked up the rifle, aimed down at the slightly shiny area on the bricks, smiled and uttered "I burn..." as he pulled the trigger. The result was the entire wall reduced to smithereens, the undead both inside and outside becoming nothing more than piles of blood and flesh. Experiment two successful... Walter then picked up the final jar. Green liquid. Wildfire. It was completely on accident that he created this. It was a month ago, back when he was working on his own explosives. The young engineer now threw down three jars of the substance at once. The result was counter-productive. As a result of this action, the wall of the building he stood upon took most of the damage, the flames melting and burning the interior of the apartment building. The foundation became shaky, Walter stumbled back as the entire structure seemed to tilt forward. The rest of the jars, along with the bottles and ammo fell down, down into the flames below, a deafening explosion echoing through the city. Walter fell down as the roof fell apart.
Walter K. landed atop of a wooden table, shattering the piece of furniture and causing pain to strike through his being, the weapon on his back forced into his body. Luckily, the sword was in its scabbard. He groaned as he got up, the horde closing in around him, stepping through the orange, blue and green flames. The teenager took out his whip and handgun, smiling at the oncoming infected. "Bring it on, motherfuckers..." He said as he lashed the whip at a zombie in front of him, shooting to the side, causing the lashed enemy to drop, along with 6 infected on his left and on his right. It was on now.