Read Online Fear the Dead: A Zombie Survival Novel by Jack Lewis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jack Lewis
Tags: Zombies
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to
fit. Through squirming carefully and sucking in my stomach, I could almost see
an exit.
And then I got
stuck.
I tried to move
my body, but it was wedged right between two blocks of metal. I felt my chest
tighten and adrenaline shot through me as the panic took over. No matter how
much I tried I couldn't move. Outside the barricade and on the high street, the
infected were so close that I could hear them moan. My legs poked out of the
barricade and soon they would be an open target for the infected to chew on. I
was going to be eaten alive.
Or half of me
was, anyway.
I started
breathing noisily heavily though my nostrils, and it was all I could do now to
shout out madly. "Justin," I said in as calm a voice as I could.
"If you're here, I need your help right fucking now."
When no reply
came, I suspected the worst for him. For now though, his wellbeing was the
furthest thing from my mind. This was it for me. The infected were getting
closer to my outstretched legs, and I was completely stuck.
From outside
the barricade, a gun popped off. There was the sound of bodies hitting the
pavement as the gun exploded several times, and then it stopped. My heart
hammered. I twisted and turned and slowly shifted the metal off me and backed
my way out. I managed to move my body around so that the top half of me was out
of the barricade, but my leg was still trapped. I looked up and saw what the sounds
had been.
A man was
there. A man with a gun and a grin.
Chapter 8
There were still five stray infected
all within a feet of him, but the man didn’t seem to care. One of them stumbled
close, but he sidestepped, got behind it and drove a hunting knife through its
head with a crack, sending bloody skull fragments to the floor. He wiped the
blade on his green khaki trousers.
As he walked over to me his steps
were almost playful, and despite how heavy his boots looked, they didn’t make a
sound on the ground. Justin could learn something about stealth from this guy.
He had a thick brown moustache that curled over his top lip and into his mouth,
which must have been irritating, and his eyes were small, squinty, and gave him
an almost sneering look. I wondered if his army khakis meant he was in the
military, or if he was one of those guys who just loved to pretend he was.
Before getting to me he stopped above
the body of one of the infected. It was a little boy who wore a blue t-shirt.
The man put his foot underneath the boy’s body and gave a kick, flipping him
over. On the boys t-shirt, faded but just about there, was the outline of a
train. The man looked at the boy’s face as though he was trying to recognise
him, but attempting to see any facial features was made impossible through
fifteen years of infection. He shook his head and turned his attention back on
me.
I moved my foot and tried to pry it
loose inch by inch, but it wouldn’t move. The weight of the metal on it was
such that if I moved too much, the whole barricade was going to shift itself
onto me and break my foot, and then I really would be screwed. I could still
move my arms though, so I reached to my waist and pulled out my knife. I looked
at the man and wondered if I’d get time to use it.
He lifted his gun up in the air and
gave a sideways nod to it, with a mocking look in his eyes.
“Gun beats knife,” he said. His voice
was gravelly, like a boot crunching on glass.
He was right, I knew. If things went
bad I could swing my knife all I wanted, but all he had to do was take a step
back out of my reach, pull the trigger and I’d be done. With the metal sheets
trapping my leg, I was completely at his mercy. Behind him, the four infected
were slowly making their way toward us. I felt sweat trickle down my forehead.
The man took a step closer and knelt in
front of me so that his head was only a little higher than mine. Up close he
had the same unwashed smell that most of us
fit. Through squirming carefully and sucking in my stomach, I could almost see
an exit.
And then I got
stuck.
I tried to move
my body, but it was wedged right between two blocks of metal. I felt my chest
tighten and adrenaline shot through me as the panic took over. No matter how
much I tried I couldn't move. Outside the barricade and on the high street, the
infected were so close that I could hear them moan. My legs poked out of the
barricade and soon they would be an open target for the infected to chew on. I
was going to be eaten alive.
Or half of me
was, anyway.
I started
breathing noisily heavily though my nostrils, and it was all I could do now to
shout out madly. "Justin," I said in as calm a voice as I could.
"If you're here, I need your help right fucking now."
When no reply
came, I suspected the worst for him. For now though, his wellbeing was the
furthest thing from my mind. This was it for me. The infected were getting
closer to my outstretched legs, and I was completely stuck.
From outside
the barricade, a gun popped off. There was the sound of bodies hitting the
pavement as the gun exploded several times, and then it stopped. My heart
hammered. I twisted and turned and slowly shifted the metal off me and backed
my way out. I managed to move my body around so that the top half of me was out
of the barricade, but my leg was still trapped. I looked up and saw what the sounds
had been.
A man was
there. A man with a gun and a grin.
Chapter 8
There were still five stray infected
all within a feet of him, but the man didn’t seem to care. One of them stumbled
close, but he sidestepped, got behind it and drove a hunting knife through its
head with a crack, sending bloody skull fragments to the floor. He wiped the
blade on his green khaki trousers.
As he walked over to me his steps
were almost playful, and despite how heavy his boots looked, they didn’t make a
sound on the ground. Justin could learn something about stealth from this guy.
He had a thick brown moustache that curled over his top lip and into his mouth,
which must have been irritating, and his eyes were small, squinty, and gave him
an almost sneering look. I wondered if his army khakis meant he was in the
military, or if he was one of those guys who just loved to pretend he was.
Before getting to me he stopped above
the body of one of the infected. It was a little boy who wore a blue t-shirt.
The man put his foot underneath the boy’s body and gave a kick, flipping him
over. On the boys t-shirt, faded but just about there, was the outline of a
train. The man looked at the boy’s face as though he was trying to recognise
him, but attempting to see any facial features was made impossible through
fifteen years of infection. He shook his head and turned his attention back on
me.
I moved my foot and tried to pry it
loose inch by inch, but it wouldn’t move. The weight of the metal on it was
such that if I moved too much, the whole barricade was going to shift itself
onto me and break my foot, and then I really would be screwed. I could still
move my arms though, so I reached to my waist and pulled out my knife. I looked
at the man and wondered if I’d get time to use it.
He lifted his gun up in the air and
gave a sideways nod to it, with a mocking look in his eyes.
“Gun beats knife,” he said. His voice
was gravelly, like a boot crunching on glass.
He was right, I knew. If things went
bad I could swing my knife all I wanted, but all he had to do was take a step
back out of my reach, pull the trigger and I’d be done. With the metal sheets
trapping my leg, I was completely at his mercy. Behind him, the four infected
were slowly making their way toward us. I felt sweat trickle down my forehead.
The man took a step closer and knelt in
front of me so that his head was only a little higher than mine. Up close he
had the same unwashed smell that most of us
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