plummeting below. The mass of falling ice, dirt, and stone pummeled into the herd like a holy freight-train sent from above. Cracking skulls and bone reverberated across the cliff face as their blackened blood splattered across the pristine mountain snow. A perfect massacre, just like ancient-man taking down a menacing mammoth.
“FUCK YEAH!” I crowed in excitement.
The boulder quickly tumbled down to a halt, resting over the remains of a few of the infected. A total of eight flesh-eating-corpses, devastated with a swift and powerful preemptive strike. Only four slugs remained, which they continued to mindlessly and shoddily claw their way up the cliff.
Using my bow, I poised the arrow tip down towards the leading Slug, a middle-aged woman I had assumed. Her matted hair, blackened skin, and multiple lacerations across her body made it almost hard to tell. Her gray and empty eyes stared up into mine as I pulled the bow-string back. Sweltering needles shot through my shoulder, and it took everything in me to hold back the tears.
The arrow sliced through the cold mountain air and imbedded straight down through her skull with a dull thunk. She dropped to the ground almost instantly, and her legs and arms twitching violently in the snow. And like the snow-angels I use to create as a child, she made her own, grisly and blood stained, snow-demon.
Moments later the other three were laid to rest right alongside her. Perfect shots, straight through the mouth, instant kills. My masterpiece was complete, a mosaic of carnage, still-life upon natures canvas. Art-Necro, which shall never be unveiled or admired.
Cautiously I made my way back down the ledge and off towards the clearing. The sun shined down upon the bloody congregation with a serene glow, as if God was washing away all the evil with his divine powers. The sparkle of the ice and snow made it all the more surreal, as if their trapped souls were now being lifted with the sun's rays and up into the Lords grace.
However, a lone vessel continued to stir as it lay face down on the ground. Its decayed legs were pinned securely beneath the fallen boulder, and it reached out for me with a glimmer of innocence behind the fog in its eyes. He seemed to beg for my help, and for a moment sympathy plagued me, but just for a moment.
Kneeling down, just out of reach of its grasp, I gazed over at his face. This one was fairly fresh, maybe only infected for a month or so. It's skin, mostly gray with slight patches of frost-bite, yet he still held a tint of pink around the nose and ears. A young boy, maybe only ten years of age. For a moment I simply watched him, both in admiration and contempt for the evil that flowed within his veins.
“Rest.” I whispered.
Slowly I slid my knife out from its sheath and promptly plunged the blade through the back of his skull. In an instant he was stagnant. Still and lifeless, the way the dead should be. Just another heap of compost for nature’s consumption, a lost soul to feed the Devil's gluttony.
Rummaging through what was left of their pockets, routinely scavenged for anything of use. The middle-aged woman bared a silver locket, badly tarnished with age. Inside its corroded latch held a faded picture of two young children. Although I had little use for a locket, such trinkets were collected for trading purposes. I had a box back at the cabin full of such gadgets, awaiting the day for an opportunity to arise.
The other corpses yielded nothing, except for the young boy, he possessed a peculiar necklace. A string of teeth, but not human, too small. Maybe porcupine, or beaver by the look of the two elongated front teeth
“FUCK YEAH!” I crowed in excitement.
The boulder quickly tumbled down to a halt, resting over the remains of a few of the infected. A total of eight flesh-eating-corpses, devastated with a swift and powerful preemptive strike. Only four slugs remained, which they continued to mindlessly and shoddily claw their way up the cliff.
Using my bow, I poised the arrow tip down towards the leading Slug, a middle-aged woman I had assumed. Her matted hair, blackened skin, and multiple lacerations across her body made it almost hard to tell. Her gray and empty eyes stared up into mine as I pulled the bow-string back. Sweltering needles shot through my shoulder, and it took everything in me to hold back the tears.
The arrow sliced through the cold mountain air and imbedded straight down through her skull with a dull thunk. She dropped to the ground almost instantly, and her legs and arms twitching violently in the snow. And like the snow-angels I use to create as a child, she made her own, grisly and blood stained, snow-demon.
Moments later the other three were laid to rest right alongside her. Perfect shots, straight through the mouth, instant kills. My masterpiece was complete, a mosaic of carnage, still-life upon natures canvas. Art-Necro, which shall never be unveiled or admired.
Cautiously I made my way back down the ledge and off towards the clearing. The sun shined down upon the bloody congregation with a serene glow, as if God was washing away all the evil with his divine powers. The sparkle of the ice and snow made it all the more surreal, as if their trapped souls were now being lifted with the sun's rays and up into the Lords grace.
However, a lone vessel continued to stir as it lay face down on the ground. Its decayed legs were pinned securely beneath the fallen boulder, and it reached out for me with a glimmer of innocence behind the fog in its eyes. He seemed to beg for my help, and for a moment sympathy plagued me, but just for a moment.
Kneeling down, just out of reach of its grasp, I gazed over at his face. This one was fairly fresh, maybe only infected for a month or so. It's skin, mostly gray with slight patches of frost-bite, yet he still held a tint of pink around the nose and ears. A young boy, maybe only ten years of age. For a moment I simply watched him, both in admiration and contempt for the evil that flowed within his veins.
“Rest.” I whispered.
Slowly I slid my knife out from its sheath and promptly plunged the blade through the back of his skull. In an instant he was stagnant. Still and lifeless, the way the dead should be. Just another heap of compost for nature’s consumption, a lost soul to feed the Devil's gluttony.
Rummaging through what was left of their pockets, routinely scavenged for anything of use. The middle-aged woman bared a silver locket, badly tarnished with age. Inside its corroded latch held a faded picture of two young children. Although I had little use for a locket, such trinkets were collected for trading purposes. I had a box back at the cabin full of such gadgets, awaiting the day for an opportunity to arise.
The other corpses yielded nothing, except for the young boy, he possessed a peculiar necklace. A string of teeth, but not human, too small. Maybe porcupine, or beaver by the look of the two elongated front teeth
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