Read Online The Z Word (A Zombie Novel) by Shaun Whittington - Free Book Online
Authors: Shaun Whittington
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slowly, knowing what was going to greet me. I heard Clare gasp behind as the defunct Abbie stood by the side of my bed and glared at me. She made no hesitation in moving towards me, and I released a few tears before I gave her a whack at the side of her head with the crowbar.
She fell immediately, but I was surprised to see that there was no mess and blood coming from her head. I felt that it was a hard blow, enough to put anyone down, but it obviously wasn't. She began to move her arms and started to crawl towards my feet.
She grabbed my shoe; I saw her snarl, and before she had a chance to take a bite out of my foot, I brought the crowbar down, smashing her cranium. She bled profusely and I stared at the poor girl. The cream carpet of my bedroom thirstily soaked up the blood from the wounded and broken skull, and I immediately ran out of the room, barged past Clare, and was sick in the upstairs toilet.
As soon as I finished puking, I ripped of a few sheets of toilet paper and began to blow my nose. I went to the cold tap of the sink and rinsed out my chops. The taste of vomit was still present, so I reached for the toothpaste and squeezed some into my mouth.
"Stupid question time," Clare approached and stood outside the bathroom. "You alright?"
"Not really."
I walked back into the bedroom, picked up the crowbar and went downstairs.
"Where're you going?" Clare called out.
"Gonna clean this crowbar under the tap, have a cup of tea, and then I'm gonna get rid of Abbie." What I said sounded cold, but I was in complete shock.
After having a little breakdown, away from Clare's presence, I ran the crowbar under the tap and had to use an old flannel to remove some of the stickier and more stubborn stuff off of the tool, then placed it next to the washing machine and switched the kettle on. I placed two tea bags, one in each cup, and wiped my teary eyes with my forearm.
Clare came down and asked if I was alright again. She meant well, but her daft questions were beginning to get on my nerves. I lied, and told her I was fine. She then gave me a hug, in which I responded not so well. My hands were on her back and after a few seconds, I patted her back as if to say, that's enough.
After I had made the tea, we stood silently slurping the hot beverages, and it took me two hands to hold the cup for fear of spilling it all over the linoleum as I was shaking that much. I drank my tea like water, gulping it down and wincing while the hot liquid sloshed down my throat. I slammed the cup down and looked over to Clare.
She hadn't taken one sip of her drink and all the time she was looking at me, wondering if I was genuinely okay, which, of course, I wasn't. I spoke, "I'm going to dump...put the body at the bottom of the garden, out of the way."
Clare nodded softly. "Wanna hand?"
"I should be okay. Gonna scoop her up and carry her out before...well, before she gets stiff."
"I'll find a sheet and wrap it around her face," Clare then lowered her head and felt guilty for what she was about to say, "just in case she...stains your clothes, you know, with the trauma to the head and everything."
"Okay." I revealed a very tiny smile. "There's spare sheets in the cupboard upstairs, next to the toilet."
"I'll go now."
As Clare left the kitchen, I muttered to nobody in particular, "From now on the bedroom's out of bounds."
Chapter Twenty Three
I was expecting the body to be a bit smelly, but it was reasonably okay as far as corpses were concerned. Maybe the longer you left one and gave it time to rot, then maybe it would smell. I don't know. I have no skills or knowledge as far as medical science is concerned.
I pulled the huge blind up of my patio door to reveal the vacant back garden. It was a glorious day and in normal circumstances I'd be in the garden, having a beer and soaking up some rays, not dumping the body of a young girl.
Clare came into the living room and announced that the body was ready to be removed. With no
She fell immediately, but I was surprised to see that there was no mess and blood coming from her head. I felt that it was a hard blow, enough to put anyone down, but it obviously wasn't. She began to move her arms and started to crawl towards my feet.
She grabbed my shoe; I saw her snarl, and before she had a chance to take a bite out of my foot, I brought the crowbar down, smashing her cranium. She bled profusely and I stared at the poor girl. The cream carpet of my bedroom thirstily soaked up the blood from the wounded and broken skull, and I immediately ran out of the room, barged past Clare, and was sick in the upstairs toilet.
As soon as I finished puking, I ripped of a few sheets of toilet paper and began to blow my nose. I went to the cold tap of the sink and rinsed out my chops. The taste of vomit was still present, so I reached for the toothpaste and squeezed some into my mouth.
"Stupid question time," Clare approached and stood outside the bathroom. "You alright?"
"Not really."
I walked back into the bedroom, picked up the crowbar and went downstairs.
"Where're you going?" Clare called out.
"Gonna clean this crowbar under the tap, have a cup of tea, and then I'm gonna get rid of Abbie." What I said sounded cold, but I was in complete shock.
After having a little breakdown, away from Clare's presence, I ran the crowbar under the tap and had to use an old flannel to remove some of the stickier and more stubborn stuff off of the tool, then placed it next to the washing machine and switched the kettle on. I placed two tea bags, one in each cup, and wiped my teary eyes with my forearm.
Clare came down and asked if I was alright again. She meant well, but her daft questions were beginning to get on my nerves. I lied, and told her I was fine. She then gave me a hug, in which I responded not so well. My hands were on her back and after a few seconds, I patted her back as if to say, that's enough.
After I had made the tea, we stood silently slurping the hot beverages, and it took me two hands to hold the cup for fear of spilling it all over the linoleum as I was shaking that much. I drank my tea like water, gulping it down and wincing while the hot liquid sloshed down my throat. I slammed the cup down and looked over to Clare.
She hadn't taken one sip of her drink and all the time she was looking at me, wondering if I was genuinely okay, which, of course, I wasn't. I spoke, "I'm going to dump...put the body at the bottom of the garden, out of the way."
Clare nodded softly. "Wanna hand?"
"I should be okay. Gonna scoop her up and carry her out before...well, before she gets stiff."
"I'll find a sheet and wrap it around her face," Clare then lowered her head and felt guilty for what she was about to say, "just in case she...stains your clothes, you know, with the trauma to the head and everything."
"Okay." I revealed a very tiny smile. "There's spare sheets in the cupboard upstairs, next to the toilet."
"I'll go now."
As Clare left the kitchen, I muttered to nobody in particular, "From now on the bedroom's out of bounds."
Chapter Twenty Three
I was expecting the body to be a bit smelly, but it was reasonably okay as far as corpses were concerned. Maybe the longer you left one and gave it time to rot, then maybe it would smell. I don't know. I have no skills or knowledge as far as medical science is concerned.
I pulled the huge blind up of my patio door to reveal the vacant back garden. It was a glorious day and in normal circumstances I'd be in the garden, having a beer and soaking up some rays, not dumping the body of a young girl.
Clare came into the living room and announced that the body was ready to be removed. With no
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