Fear the Dead: A Zombie Survival Novel

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Authors: Jack Lewis
Tags: Zombies
what they had once looked like, but fifteen years
after infection it was tough to see any humanity in them. Their faces were full
of sharp edges from where their bones pressed against their skin, and their
scraggly hair tumbled to their shoulders. They stretched out their arms, and at
the ends of their fingers long, dirty fingernails pointed at us. That was one
of the more disgusting things about the infected; the fact that their hair and
fingernails carried on growing after death.
     
    "Is this
one of the times we ignore them?" asked Justin.
     
    I reached for
my knife, took hold of the handle and pulled it out. I turned to the kid.
"Think about it. Which direction do we need to go?"
     
    "Straight
on."
     
    "And where
are they?"
     
    "Straight
on."
     
    I pointed my
knife at them. "Then this isn't one of the times we ignore them. You take
the smaller one on the left - he looks your height. "
     
    I walked
forward, poised and alert. Justin kept pace with me, and when we got closer he
pulled out his knife. He held it at an awkward angle, almost at his waist,
which meant that he had more work to do to stab the infected in the head. I
held mine at head height and tensed my arm. Set on earning their meal, the
infected let out guttural moans and stumbled toward us. They were only metres
away now, and I could feel my pulse quicken in anticipation. I steadied my legs
and got ready to stab.
     
    My infected
launched at me clumsily, hoping to grab onto some part of me with its outstretched
arms. It was tall and its belly was bloated, and it wore a ragged football
shirt. I stepped to the side and let it stumble past me. I reached forward and
grabbed the back of its collar, but the material was so rotted that it tore
clean out of my grasp.
     
    To my left,
Justin cried out. I snapped my eyes on him and saw that he had lodged his knife
in the smaller infected's chest just below the collar bone, and he was trying
to push the straining monster away. I took three strides toward him, raised my
knife in the air and then planted it in the top of the infected's head, caving
in its skull a meringue. I let it drop to the floor.
     
    Justin sank to
the ground, his eyes wide and his face a deathly white.
     
    The infected to
my right growled. I turned toward it but it was already in my face, so close to
me that when it snapped its teeth I could hear the sound of them clacking
together. I took hold of it by the neck with my left hand, raised my right and
then brought my knife down into its skull. As the dead body fell to the floor,
I let a long breath escape my lungs. After a few seconds, I got myself
together.
     
    "Did it
bite you?" I asked him.
     
    He shook his
head. His face was pale and I could see that his hands were shaking. This was
the first time that I had ever seen the kid scared - he hadn't even blinked
when I'd strangled him back in the shack. I knew I should ask him if he was
alright, show a little concern, but I didn’t have time for that.
     
    "Pull
yourself together," I said. "There will be more."
     
    Sure enough,
behind us at the bottom of the high street a couple of infected had gathered
and were slowly picking up our trail. More would appear before long, I knew,
and soon we'd have a crowd of them chasing us. The chase itself wasn't a
problem, because they could never pick up enough speed to catch you. The
problem was that they were relentless. Once they got on your trail - that was
it. They wouldn't stop and rest, they wouldn’t sleep. They were driven by only
one basic impulse, and they would stop at nothing to get it.
     
    "Pick up
your pace." I said.
     
    We moved
quicker down the high street. I looked behind me and saw that the two infected
were now six. Ahead of us, the street twisted round a corner. I knew that round
it there was another short walk and then we were out of Blackfoot. I couldn’t
wait to leave.
     
    I looked behind
us again. Now there were ten of them. Where the hell were they coming

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