Is this a good death scene for my book?

“Don’t die, mate,” I said through my rasping breath, looking down at the bloody body below me.

There was silence for some while. Dylan lay still, the wound on his shoulder pumping blood on the apartments carpet, staining it red. For a terrifying second I thought he was dead, but his chest rose and fell quickly and suddenly.

“It’s a bit late for that,” Dylan muttered, raising his head slightly to look across his wounds.

“******* hell, you’re not dying. You’re our leader. You can’t die!” I exclaimed quickly, unaware of the guttural moaning of zombies nearby.

“Everyone dies. It’s my time now.” Dylan said, and I gave him a quizzical look.

“I thought I was the philosophical one?” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, and Dylan laughed. It was a hollow sound, but the laughing assured me. It was a sound I hadn’t heard for a while.

“You always were...” Dylan paused for a second. “...I don’t want to die.” He said honestly

“No one does,” I told him, and he moved his head slightly in recognition.

The moaning was growing louder, and I knew there would be no time to run soon. As much as I hated the idea, I might have to leave Dylan to the zombies just to save myself.

Dylan noticed the look in my eyes. “Don’t leave me.” He begged, and I suddenly felt guilty. This was Dylan I was talking about- I couldn’t just leave him. How could I even think like that?

“I’ll stay.” I said, signing my fate by sitting down beside Dylan, staring into the hallway where I knew the zombies would come from. Dylan’s chest heaved, and Dylan seemed exhausted by the effort.

“James... Look after-,” The look after was cut off by a group of racking coughs, and Dylan’s eyes lolled back into his skull.

I’d experienced enough death enough over the last year to know Dylan was dead. No tears came into my eyes. I’d cried my last tear a year ago.

“Goodbye,” I told Dylan, picking up the gun that lay beside him. I started to walk out of the apartment, stepping over bodies of zombies, loading the gun as I did.

I held the heavy rifle easily in my hands, something I wouldn’t have been able to do months before. I looked around, willing to find a zombie to take some of my anger out on.

The whole plan had fallen apart. The explosives hadn’t gone off; the snipers hadn’t taken out the zombies and Dylan was dead. My plan- everything about it- had been a complete failure. I wondered if anyone was still alive in the town square- they had put their lives in my hands and I had fumbled and dropped them.

A female zombie stepped out in front of me from a doorway, hands outstretched, almost inviting the bullet into her brain. She fell in an undignified heap.

I kept walking, not caring that the bullet had probably attracted a thousand zombies. Because right now I was a man with nothing to lose.

And a man with nothing to lose was the greatest enemy of all.

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The book is about zombies, and the character that dies, Dylan, was stabbed by a zombie who still had some of it's intelligence intact. It's too hard to explain, but please answer this: it this a good death scene, or does it drag on too long or is just unrealistic?