friend.”
“Thanks. Good looking out.” I clap him on the back. “Now hurry inside before those zombies turn you into pasta primavera.”
Teddy bolts out of the car, just as Verne and his crew empty out of his van and head for the house.
“We better hurry up,” I say, looking out the back window and seeing about four zombies shambling towards us from across the street.
Fergi opens her door and slides out. “You coming, Danny?”
“I’ll bring up the rear, don’t worry about me.”
“But you don’t have anything to defend yourself.”
I smile at her. She doesn’t know I’m already a dead man. “It’s fine, honey.
Move your ass.”
I step out of the car and look across at my new people, my soon to be family. The four of them move as one, a team effort in every sense of the word. Individually, these creatures are slow as molasses, robotic, with little to no intelligence. But the more of them that congregate in one spot, the more dangerous they become.
It’s their teamwork, I decide, that makes them so dangerous. These four are on their way to us now. They won’t get anybody this time. Even now, the last of our group is running inside Shep’s house. The front door will slam and lock, and these zombies have no ability to so much as turn a door handle, and certainly they don’t know how to pick up a two by four to use as a weapon.
But they won’t stop coming, and more of them will join in the hunt. Now there are four—I bet in a week there will be twenty-four or maybe even a hundred and four.
They’ll find a way in at some point, or we’ll have to come out.
It suddenly hits me that in a week I’ll be on the other side. I might be one of the guys trying to get in the house, rather than attempting to keep these monsters out.
How long do I have left? Should I just leave and crawl away to my doom? With Nana it only took the better part of one day for her to turn, but she was old. Maybe for a young, strapping buck like myself, it will take a few days or longer before I succumb to zombie sickness.
They’re coming closer now. I’m in awe of them—in awe of the fact that soon, very soon, I will be no different from them. It’s like swimming into the ocean and seeing a shark, and somehow realizing that in a few hours, you’ll actually be a shark. Dead eyed, cold-blooded, drifting through dark, frigid waters, searching for food and nothing else.
One of the zombies lets out a yawn-like groan as its eyes fix on me.
“You want a piece of me?” I yell at the thing, suddenly angry. “I’m not afraid of you, motherfucker.”
From Shep’s house comes a chorus of yells for me to get inside.
“Danny! What are you doing?” Fergi screams.
I look back at her. Her titties are so nice, so fresh and her nipples would probably taste like lemon drops. “I would have fucked you so good,” I say softly.
Maybe it’s time for me to go out like a goddamn hero. Maybe this is the way to do it—go out in a blaze of glory, like that corny Bon Jovi Song says.
I step forward with my fists up high. “Come on you stupid bitches. Let’s rumble.”
The first zombie reaches me. It’s an older fellow, with a white, straggly beard, wearing suspenders. His shirt is covered in dark red blood and his sinewy arms reach towards me, mouth yawning with hunger more desperate than any hunger I can imagine.
His desperation enrages me and I let loose with a flurry of punches. His head bobs back and forth as I unleash on him, and down he goes.
“That’s right, bitch. One-two combo gets ‘em every time.”
It occurs to me that I’ve gone a little insane. Maybe a whole lot insane. Perhaps this is part of the zombie infection that even now is spreading through me, taking over.
But there’s no time to think about that now, because two more are upon me. One of them, a short Hispanic looking woman in a matching red sweat suit—the other, a younger kid, maybe seventeen years old in just his shorts and flip flops. He’s
“Thanks. Good looking out.” I clap him on the back. “Now hurry inside before those zombies turn you into pasta primavera.”
Teddy bolts out of the car, just as Verne and his crew empty out of his van and head for the house.
“We better hurry up,” I say, looking out the back window and seeing about four zombies shambling towards us from across the street.
Fergi opens her door and slides out. “You coming, Danny?”
“I’ll bring up the rear, don’t worry about me.”
“But you don’t have anything to defend yourself.”
I smile at her. She doesn’t know I’m already a dead man. “It’s fine, honey.
Move your ass.”
I step out of the car and look across at my new people, my soon to be family. The four of them move as one, a team effort in every sense of the word. Individually, these creatures are slow as molasses, robotic, with little to no intelligence. But the more of them that congregate in one spot, the more dangerous they become.
It’s their teamwork, I decide, that makes them so dangerous. These four are on their way to us now. They won’t get anybody this time. Even now, the last of our group is running inside Shep’s house. The front door will slam and lock, and these zombies have no ability to so much as turn a door handle, and certainly they don’t know how to pick up a two by four to use as a weapon.
But they won’t stop coming, and more of them will join in the hunt. Now there are four—I bet in a week there will be twenty-four or maybe even a hundred and four.
They’ll find a way in at some point, or we’ll have to come out.
It suddenly hits me that in a week I’ll be on the other side. I might be one of the guys trying to get in the house, rather than attempting to keep these monsters out.
How long do I have left? Should I just leave and crawl away to my doom? With Nana it only took the better part of one day for her to turn, but she was old. Maybe for a young, strapping buck like myself, it will take a few days or longer before I succumb to zombie sickness.
They’re coming closer now. I’m in awe of them—in awe of the fact that soon, very soon, I will be no different from them. It’s like swimming into the ocean and seeing a shark, and somehow realizing that in a few hours, you’ll actually be a shark. Dead eyed, cold-blooded, drifting through dark, frigid waters, searching for food and nothing else.
One of the zombies lets out a yawn-like groan as its eyes fix on me.
“You want a piece of me?” I yell at the thing, suddenly angry. “I’m not afraid of you, motherfucker.”
From Shep’s house comes a chorus of yells for me to get inside.
“Danny! What are you doing?” Fergi screams.
I look back at her. Her titties are so nice, so fresh and her nipples would probably taste like lemon drops. “I would have fucked you so good,” I say softly.
Maybe it’s time for me to go out like a goddamn hero. Maybe this is the way to do it—go out in a blaze of glory, like that corny Bon Jovi Song says.
I step forward with my fists up high. “Come on you stupid bitches. Let’s rumble.”
The first zombie reaches me. It’s an older fellow, with a white, straggly beard, wearing suspenders. His shirt is covered in dark red blood and his sinewy arms reach towards me, mouth yawning with hunger more desperate than any hunger I can imagine.
His desperation enrages me and I let loose with a flurry of punches. His head bobs back and forth as I unleash on him, and down he goes.
“That’s right, bitch. One-two combo gets ‘em every time.”
It occurs to me that I’ve gone a little insane. Maybe a whole lot insane. Perhaps this is part of the zombie infection that even now is spreading through me, taking over.
But there’s no time to think about that now, because two more are upon me. One of them, a short Hispanic looking woman in a matching red sweat suit—the other, a younger kid, maybe seventeen years old in just his shorts and flip flops. He’s
Similar Books
Big Time
Tom; Ryan
Dealers of Light
Lara Nance
Return - Book III of the Five Worlds Trilogy
Al Sarrantonio
BURYING ZIMMERMAN (The River Trilogy, book 2)
Edward A. Stabler
Guardian Bride
Lauri Robinson
Banes
Tara Brown
The Parting
Beverly Lewis
A Case of Vineyard Poison
Philip R. Craig
Waking the Buddha
Clark Strand
Guardian of Night
Tony Daniel