Read Online The Undead. The First Seven Days by R R Haywood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: R R Haywood
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the undead girl in the blue dress was in front of me, attacking a woman or the elderly seems wrong.
Then I remember how I felt after the motorway, when that undead woman tried to bite me – I had tried to help her, but she didn’t care.
They are undead.
They are all undead.
I raise the bat up, poised and ready - and wait for him to come.
He is a few metres in front of the others; red eyed with saliva hanging down from his mouth.
I look again and can see that he has no teeth, just gums. He is pulling his lips back and baring his gummy mouth. I almost laugh out loud… how can he bite anyone? Will he just suck on them… like a love bite? He should be carrying a blender to make flesh soup. I almost feel sorry for him and then I see his long fingernails, his old hands look like claws, the strength of that woman at the car was incredible and he probably has the same strength too. His fingernails look like they could rip flesh open. The infection could still be passed.
The humour is gone.
Fuck him, he is undead.
I step forward and swing the bat hard into the side of his head and he goes spinning off to my left.
I move to the right, going round the side of the small group of undead. They all turn to follow me. I move back to the left and they all turn again. I move right and, again, they all move as one; synchronised zombies.
I move backwards until they are in the middle of the road, then I run round the back of them. They shuffle round to follow me but they are too uncoordinated and bump into each other.
The delivery driver is on the outside.
I dart forward and strike him on his shoulder, he spins into the two dog-walking women, knocking them away and creating space between them.
As the delivery driver goes down onto one of the women, loud moans come from them, as they both try to get up at the same time, working against each other.
The old man is still down; the young man is closest now.
I step out, so that I am facing his left side and, before he can turn, I smash the bat into his face. His nose explodes and I hear the crunch of bones above the impact of the bat. He stumbles backwards and falls onto his arse. I hit again and he goes down onto the ground, but stills moves and is instantly trying to rise up. I go behind him, so that his head is just in front of me. I then bend over and strike to the side of his head like a golf swing; the impact is hard and his body is jerked round with the force.
The delivery driver and woman are separated and are trying to get up, the other dog-walking woman is coming at me, lips pulled back, showing her already yellowing teeth.
I aim an uppercut swing to her chin, but miss and I almost fall into her. My body slams into her and I drop my shoulder to force her backwards, and, straight away, her arms come up to grab at me and she grips my left arm; her fingers like a vice, jabbing into my elbow.
I use the end of the bat to hit the side of her head, but we are too close and I cannot generate enough force. I keep hitting to prevent her from getting her teeth into me. I try to pull my arm away but she is gripping too hard. I move backwards, forcing her to stumble after me.
Her grip is so strong. I try to wrench my arm away, but she holds it tight. I keep smacking the bat into the side of her head and my feet hit the old man on the ground. I step away and force the woman to walk into him, tripping her up. She stumbles forward and goes down, but the force of her grip pulls me down too.
The delivery driver is at my right; I swing out and strike at his chest. I’m half bent down and having to swing up and out to the right. The blow knocks him back, but he stays on his feet and comes back at me. I hit down again at the woman and drive her down again; she is still gripping my arm.
I swing out and, once more, knock the delivery driver backwards. I shuffle the bat out, so that I am holding the end, then pull back and swing down as hard as I
Then I remember how I felt after the motorway, when that undead woman tried to bite me – I had tried to help her, but she didn’t care.
They are undead.
They are all undead.
I raise the bat up, poised and ready - and wait for him to come.
He is a few metres in front of the others; red eyed with saliva hanging down from his mouth.
I look again and can see that he has no teeth, just gums. He is pulling his lips back and baring his gummy mouth. I almost laugh out loud… how can he bite anyone? Will he just suck on them… like a love bite? He should be carrying a blender to make flesh soup. I almost feel sorry for him and then I see his long fingernails, his old hands look like claws, the strength of that woman at the car was incredible and he probably has the same strength too. His fingernails look like they could rip flesh open. The infection could still be passed.
The humour is gone.
Fuck him, he is undead.
I step forward and swing the bat hard into the side of his head and he goes spinning off to my left.
I move to the right, going round the side of the small group of undead. They all turn to follow me. I move back to the left and they all turn again. I move right and, again, they all move as one; synchronised zombies.
I move backwards until they are in the middle of the road, then I run round the back of them. They shuffle round to follow me but they are too uncoordinated and bump into each other.
The delivery driver is on the outside.
I dart forward and strike him on his shoulder, he spins into the two dog-walking women, knocking them away and creating space between them.
As the delivery driver goes down onto one of the women, loud moans come from them, as they both try to get up at the same time, working against each other.
The old man is still down; the young man is closest now.
I step out, so that I am facing his left side and, before he can turn, I smash the bat into his face. His nose explodes and I hear the crunch of bones above the impact of the bat. He stumbles backwards and falls onto his arse. I hit again and he goes down onto the ground, but stills moves and is instantly trying to rise up. I go behind him, so that his head is just in front of me. I then bend over and strike to the side of his head like a golf swing; the impact is hard and his body is jerked round with the force.
The delivery driver and woman are separated and are trying to get up, the other dog-walking woman is coming at me, lips pulled back, showing her already yellowing teeth.
I aim an uppercut swing to her chin, but miss and I almost fall into her. My body slams into her and I drop my shoulder to force her backwards, and, straight away, her arms come up to grab at me and she grips my left arm; her fingers like a vice, jabbing into my elbow.
I use the end of the bat to hit the side of her head, but we are too close and I cannot generate enough force. I keep hitting to prevent her from getting her teeth into me. I try to pull my arm away but she is gripping too hard. I move backwards, forcing her to stumble after me.
Her grip is so strong. I try to wrench my arm away, but she holds it tight. I keep smacking the bat into the side of her head and my feet hit the old man on the ground. I step away and force the woman to walk into him, tripping her up. She stumbles forward and goes down, but the force of her grip pulls me down too.
The delivery driver is at my right; I swing out and strike at his chest. I’m half bent down and having to swing up and out to the right. The blow knocks him back, but he stays on his feet and comes back at me. I hit down again at the woman and drive her down again; she is still gripping my arm.
I swing out and, once more, knock the delivery driver backwards. I shuffle the bat out, so that I am holding the end, then pull back and swing down as hard as I
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