Pike was a machine, at this point. He was down to one gun, and even that had only one shot left in it. He had his broadsword and, thanks to his abilities, even unarmed he was sort of a weapon in his own right. It didn't matter. He was just killing, at this point. It was almost like back in hell.
In fact, he didn't even really see Claire as he shouldered past a bunch of collapsing zombies and turned towards another group. He saw zombies. One of them had its back to him, the others were facing him. Pike lifted his pistol, fired his last shot directly into the back of the zombie's head from about ten feet away, and then tossed the gun away as if it was an unimportant piece of detritus. Before the body hit the ground he was charging past it, broadsword raised to chest level and clutched with both hands on the hilt. He moved past Claire, not really registering who it was, and closed with the leftmost zombie. With a shout, he stabbed the zombie in the head, impaling it on his sword. Without missing a beat, he swung the blade out and away in a horizontal arc, ripping it free of the zombie's mushy head and taking a huge chunk out of the head of the zombie next to it.
Three down. He glanced up at the final zombie and began advancing on it, an almost wicked grin on his face as he twirled his broadsword in one hand.