Read Online Die Trying: A Zombie Apocalypse by Nicholas Ryan - Free Book Online
Authors: Nicholas Ryan
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the girl was suddenly near-crazed. I backed out of the helicopter and the girl came at me like a caged lion.
No broken bones – that was for sure.
We stood in a tight knot beside the helicopter. The man went to the girl and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him – not overcome with affection, but rather like someone who takes shelter behind a large boulder. It was instinctive. Then I saw the man snap to full alertness. “My gun!” he said.
I stared at him. “Where is it?”
He was padding down his pockets, becoming frantic. Maybe he was from the military, or maybe ex-military. For guys who have served, I guessed their weapon was an extension of their body. “It must still be in the helicopter,” he said – and scrambled head-first back through the dark opening.
I turned back to the line of undead. I saw Jed now. He was inside the broken cockpit of the helicopter, firing through the shattered Plexiglas. He was concealed behind the dead body of the pilot, aiming carefully at the dark looming shapes of death.
I heard the roar of his Glock, tearing through the hissing sound of the rain, and then snapped my eyes to the line of undead. I saw one of them suddenly double over and clutch at its stomach. It was a woman – I think. The figure had long straggly hair and was thinly built. It was about fifteen yards away. It froze for a split-second, and then slowly toppled backwards into the grass. I heard Jed give a ragged cheer. “I got one!” – then the sound was cut off by another rumble of thunder that boomed overhead.
And then a remarkable thing happened. The line of undead stopped. Froze. They were close enough to see physical details now – close enough to hear the sound of them shambling towards us in the long grass as the noise of the rain ebbed and flowed. I sensed the hunched, prowling way they held themselves, like mad dogs that drop their heads and bunch their shoulders when on the scent of prey.
For a second nothing at all happened. I saw undead heads turn towards the place in the line where the woman ghoul had fallen. Then I saw the attitude of the others seem to change. I heard one of the ghouls growl – and it was a chilling, terrible sound, quickly imitated by others. The cry went up – and then the zombies nearest the woman lunged towards the place where she had fallen. They were snarling and roaring – gnashing teeth and clawing. I saw one of the undead rise up, and he had a forearm in his bloodied hands, gnawing at it with rabid madness.
I heard fabric tearing, and then the horrific sound of bones cracking and flesh ripping. Another of the ghouls reeled away into the darkness and his hands were full and heavy with dripping bloodied organs that slithered in his fingers like tentacles.
I heard Clinton Harrigan’s voice behind me, and his words were numbed and slowed by incredulous horror.
“ Holy Mary, mother of God…”
And then a louder, more urgent voice that could only be my brother’s, shouting the words that my brain was shouting at the same instant.
“Run! Now!”
I didn’t turn away from the horror. The ghouls were in a frenzy, dismembering the corpse in the grass. I saw only hunched shoulders and flailing arms beating the grass into maddened swishing tails, but I could imagine the gory detail. Snap-shot images of the slaughter-yard scene in the backyard came back to haunt me.
Jed fired again. And again.
I drew the Glock from my jeans and fired into the dark mass of bodies. I don’t know if I hit anything – I just fired. Then I fired again. I heard a sudden new sound – the sound of different gunfire, the noise of it slamming in my ears – and without turning I guessed the man had recovered his weapon from where it had fallen.
I sensed that Jed’s words had culminated into panicked action behind me. I heard heavy footsteps, pounding in the sloshing mud, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I was alone. Harrigan, the man and the girl had
No broken bones – that was for sure.
We stood in a tight knot beside the helicopter. The man went to the girl and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulder. She leaned into him – not overcome with affection, but rather like someone who takes shelter behind a large boulder. It was instinctive. Then I saw the man snap to full alertness. “My gun!” he said.
I stared at him. “Where is it?”
He was padding down his pockets, becoming frantic. Maybe he was from the military, or maybe ex-military. For guys who have served, I guessed their weapon was an extension of their body. “It must still be in the helicopter,” he said – and scrambled head-first back through the dark opening.
I turned back to the line of undead. I saw Jed now. He was inside the broken cockpit of the helicopter, firing through the shattered Plexiglas. He was concealed behind the dead body of the pilot, aiming carefully at the dark looming shapes of death.
I heard the roar of his Glock, tearing through the hissing sound of the rain, and then snapped my eyes to the line of undead. I saw one of them suddenly double over and clutch at its stomach. It was a woman – I think. The figure had long straggly hair and was thinly built. It was about fifteen yards away. It froze for a split-second, and then slowly toppled backwards into the grass. I heard Jed give a ragged cheer. “I got one!” – then the sound was cut off by another rumble of thunder that boomed overhead.
And then a remarkable thing happened. The line of undead stopped. Froze. They were close enough to see physical details now – close enough to hear the sound of them shambling towards us in the long grass as the noise of the rain ebbed and flowed. I sensed the hunched, prowling way they held themselves, like mad dogs that drop their heads and bunch their shoulders when on the scent of prey.
For a second nothing at all happened. I saw undead heads turn towards the place in the line where the woman ghoul had fallen. Then I saw the attitude of the others seem to change. I heard one of the ghouls growl – and it was a chilling, terrible sound, quickly imitated by others. The cry went up – and then the zombies nearest the woman lunged towards the place where she had fallen. They were snarling and roaring – gnashing teeth and clawing. I saw one of the undead rise up, and he had a forearm in his bloodied hands, gnawing at it with rabid madness.
I heard fabric tearing, and then the horrific sound of bones cracking and flesh ripping. Another of the ghouls reeled away into the darkness and his hands were full and heavy with dripping bloodied organs that slithered in his fingers like tentacles.
I heard Clinton Harrigan’s voice behind me, and his words were numbed and slowed by incredulous horror.
“ Holy Mary, mother of God…”
And then a louder, more urgent voice that could only be my brother’s, shouting the words that my brain was shouting at the same instant.
“Run! Now!”
I didn’t turn away from the horror. The ghouls were in a frenzy, dismembering the corpse in the grass. I saw only hunched shoulders and flailing arms beating the grass into maddened swishing tails, but I could imagine the gory detail. Snap-shot images of the slaughter-yard scene in the backyard came back to haunt me.
Jed fired again. And again.
I drew the Glock from my jeans and fired into the dark mass of bodies. I don’t know if I hit anything – I just fired. Then I fired again. I heard a sudden new sound – the sound of different gunfire, the noise of it slamming in my ears – and without turning I guessed the man had recovered his weapon from where it had fallen.
I sensed that Jed’s words had culminated into panicked action behind me. I heard heavy footsteps, pounding in the sloshing mud, and when I glanced over my shoulder, I was alone. Harrigan, the man and the girl had
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