heart was in her throat, b ut she spotted her saving grace…the bed. She would never get to the spare weapons inside her bag in time, so she flipped the heavy mattress, adrenaline giving her the strength she needed. It hit him and he lay pinned beneath, momentarily unsure how to get out from underneath his soft yet solid prison. Lorna punched her fist down into the box spring and started tugging at the insides. Her hands tore on the ragged metal but she ignored it, pulling with all her might. With a loud screeching sound, the spring came off in her hand, just in time as Mrs. Hubbard charged through the doorway.
The woman was missing one of her obscenely large breasts, the other hanging like a cow’s udder from her ripped shirt. She was also missing an eye, leaving the other to track her with its dull gaze. She threw her head back and released one howling moan before Lorna plunged the spring, hastily straightened, into the remaining eye. There was a disturbing squishing sound as the orb was punctured, and the woman collapsed where she stood. The sudden weight yanked the spring from Lorna’s hand and flayed open her palm. She hissed with pain, struggling to pull the spring free, but her hands we re slick with her own blood now. The spring was still hung up somewhere inside Mrs. Hubbard’s head.
Giving up, Lorna scooped up the broken nightstand leg from the floor beside the destroyed bed and walked over to where Mr. Hubbard was still struggling to get out from under the mattress. He’d managed to free one arm and his head, but the rest of him was still pinned. She knelt on the mattress and raised the leg like a club, bashing it down with all her strength. The first strike broke his nose, and the second shattered his teeth, sending vibrations of pain up her arm from the force of the blow. A third and fourth rendered his face unrecognizable, yet still he struggled. She looked back at the remains of his wife and knew what she had to do. She turned the leg in her hand, turning it from a blunt object into a stake and pierced his left eye with all the force she could muster. One hand clutched at her arm as his body seized in the throes of death, and she yanked the leg free before plunging it down into the other eye. He was finally still.
She peered through the doorway, surprised to find that the zombies in the next room were ignoring her. They had a feast set before them, and they knelt at the bodies like animals at a watering hole, eating heartily. The Hubbard’s creepy son, Luke, was nothing but g nawed bones and tattered clothing remnants. He wouldn’t be getting up to join the undead army.
She quietly shut the door to the connecting room, walked to the door at the far end of the motel, and out into the sunlight. Blinking at the sudden transition from gloomy space to bright sun, she jogged to the SUV, threw her bags in, and left the carnage behind her.
FIFTEEN
A month had gone by since Lorna left the ruins of the motel and the life she’d hoped to build behind her. She was exhausted, barely sleeping more than an hour at a time for fear of being overrun. She contemplated just wandering into a horde and letting her have them. Life would be simpler, right? No more worries, no more fear, nothing but the mindless desire to wander and feed. But she’d neve r been the type to just give up. She was a fighter, and if she died it would be because someone beat her, not because she gave herself over to the enemy. That was how she thought of them now… the enemy. This wasn’t just a plague, an apocalypse, a sign of the end of the world. This was a war, and she would, by God, be a good soldier and defend what was left of her country with her life.
She became paranoid. There was nothing to protect her mind from the Hell of her current situation. Sometimes she even suspected she was still in the institution. Perhaps she’d never escaped at all, and everything she’d done and thought and felt since it all started was merely the
The woman was missing one of her obscenely large breasts, the other hanging like a cow’s udder from her ripped shirt. She was also missing an eye, leaving the other to track her with its dull gaze. She threw her head back and released one howling moan before Lorna plunged the spring, hastily straightened, into the remaining eye. There was a disturbing squishing sound as the orb was punctured, and the woman collapsed where she stood. The sudden weight yanked the spring from Lorna’s hand and flayed open her palm. She hissed with pain, struggling to pull the spring free, but her hands we re slick with her own blood now. The spring was still hung up somewhere inside Mrs. Hubbard’s head.
Giving up, Lorna scooped up the broken nightstand leg from the floor beside the destroyed bed and walked over to where Mr. Hubbard was still struggling to get out from under the mattress. He’d managed to free one arm and his head, but the rest of him was still pinned. She knelt on the mattress and raised the leg like a club, bashing it down with all her strength. The first strike broke his nose, and the second shattered his teeth, sending vibrations of pain up her arm from the force of the blow. A third and fourth rendered his face unrecognizable, yet still he struggled. She looked back at the remains of his wife and knew what she had to do. She turned the leg in her hand, turning it from a blunt object into a stake and pierced his left eye with all the force she could muster. One hand clutched at her arm as his body seized in the throes of death, and she yanked the leg free before plunging it down into the other eye. He was finally still.
She peered through the doorway, surprised to find that the zombies in the next room were ignoring her. They had a feast set before them, and they knelt at the bodies like animals at a watering hole, eating heartily. The Hubbard’s creepy son, Luke, was nothing but g nawed bones and tattered clothing remnants. He wouldn’t be getting up to join the undead army.
She quietly shut the door to the connecting room, walked to the door at the far end of the motel, and out into the sunlight. Blinking at the sudden transition from gloomy space to bright sun, she jogged to the SUV, threw her bags in, and left the carnage behind her.
FIFTEEN
A month had gone by since Lorna left the ruins of the motel and the life she’d hoped to build behind her. She was exhausted, barely sleeping more than an hour at a time for fear of being overrun. She contemplated just wandering into a horde and letting her have them. Life would be simpler, right? No more worries, no more fear, nothing but the mindless desire to wander and feed. But she’d neve r been the type to just give up. She was a fighter, and if she died it would be because someone beat her, not because she gave herself over to the enemy. That was how she thought of them now… the enemy. This wasn’t just a plague, an apocalypse, a sign of the end of the world. This was a war, and she would, by God, be a good soldier and defend what was left of her country with her life.
She became paranoid. There was nothing to protect her mind from the Hell of her current situation. Sometimes she even suspected she was still in the institution. Perhaps she’d never escaped at all, and everything she’d done and thought and felt since it all started was merely the
Similar Books
