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Authors: Phillip Tomasso
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hollow, and did little to slow the zombie. As it dropped to its knees, and brought its face close to mine, I tried again. Think I screamed as I swung the iron at its head. The way it had me pinned, the open car door, I had no room to angle, no way to gain momentum. I tried punching him with my weapon. It did little.
He opened his mouth. Did I see flesh wedged and flapping between the small gap in his front teeth?
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to die. It was that I couldn’t. My kids were out there. Scared shitless. Alone. Their fucking mother was trying to eat them. I couldn’t die now, not like this – not just hours into this nightmare. I’ve been fighting against shit all my life, more so since the divorce. I wasn’t giving up here, going to die here, let this drool-faced beast eat me!
When his head shot forward, I thought it was over. Thought I was wrong, that I was going to die. When I saw the tire iron sticking out of a split skull, I let my eyes look up.
Allison breathed heavy. She’d let go of her iron, perhaps because it looked wedged in place.
That was one down, out. Three to go.
“Behind you,” I said, rolling the dead thing off me.
I got to my feet told Allison to duck, and swung my iron, full swing. The lug nut end slammed like a piston into the woman’s ear. The zombie cried out, shrieked. It backed up, backed away. Hands covered the ear. Blood poured, spewed from between fingers. I didn’t give it time to rebound.
“I can’t get mine out of his head,” Allison said. She grunted. I envisioned her foot on the back of its neck as she attempted to dislodge the weapon, as if she was Arthur retrieving her Excalibur.
I swung again. The woman, already badly injured , didn’t do anything except take it. In the temple. Bone shattered. Flattened. She went down. Hands no longer over her ear, but with arms straight out at her side. If that brain still pumped activity or energy through the body, I’d clunk myself in the fucking head next time.
Two down.
I spun around, expecting to have to help Allison. She chopped through the air with her iron. With a large arch that started at the spine of her back, up over her head and finished by smashing down onto the crown of the third zombie.
Stepping around my woman, I used the pointed end of my iron like a dagger. The man looked young. Early twenties. I saw nothing human in his facial expression. He didn’t come at me. He stayed by the car behind the Chrysler. Like he’d been watching it all. As if he’d just seen three of his friends pummeled to death, but didn’t have the balls to jump in and help. It was almost like if he wasn’t hungry, craving a bite out of me and Allison, that he might be tempted to turn and run.
I didn’t know how to handle that.
“Alley,” I said.
She stood next to me. “What’s it doing?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Kill it?”
“Let’s back away. See what it does.” I put my arm out. It didn’t do a thing to protect Allison. The gesture made me feel better. I’d used it hundreds of times when driving. Threw my arm out in front of Charlene—even Julie when we were married—whenever I had to stop faster than normal. Of course, they’d worn seat belts. Again, it wouldn’t do a thing to protect either one of them if we’d been involved in a collision. It was about the gesture.
I think.
We backed away, around the Chrysler. We were on Lyell Avenue.
The lack of people out might only be because it was so late. Still felt eerie.
“It’s not coming after us,” Allison said. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t like that answer. Did it imply more than it should? Was there still someone inside? Had Alley and I just murdered three people? “The others attacked. We were justified.”
“We were,” she said. There was no conviction in her tone. It sounded surer than when she told me she’d bash in a zombie’s brains if it meant saving my life, and she had.
“Thank you,” I
He opened his mouth. Did I see flesh wedged and flapping between the small gap in his front teeth?
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to die. It was that I couldn’t. My kids were out there. Scared shitless. Alone. Their fucking mother was trying to eat them. I couldn’t die now, not like this – not just hours into this nightmare. I’ve been fighting against shit all my life, more so since the divorce. I wasn’t giving up here, going to die here, let this drool-faced beast eat me!
When his head shot forward, I thought it was over. Thought I was wrong, that I was going to die. When I saw the tire iron sticking out of a split skull, I let my eyes look up.
Allison breathed heavy. She’d let go of her iron, perhaps because it looked wedged in place.
That was one down, out. Three to go.
“Behind you,” I said, rolling the dead thing off me.
I got to my feet told Allison to duck, and swung my iron, full swing. The lug nut end slammed like a piston into the woman’s ear. The zombie cried out, shrieked. It backed up, backed away. Hands covered the ear. Blood poured, spewed from between fingers. I didn’t give it time to rebound.
“I can’t get mine out of his head,” Allison said. She grunted. I envisioned her foot on the back of its neck as she attempted to dislodge the weapon, as if she was Arthur retrieving her Excalibur.
I swung again. The woman, already badly injured , didn’t do anything except take it. In the temple. Bone shattered. Flattened. She went down. Hands no longer over her ear, but with arms straight out at her side. If that brain still pumped activity or energy through the body, I’d clunk myself in the fucking head next time.
Two down.
I spun around, expecting to have to help Allison. She chopped through the air with her iron. With a large arch that started at the spine of her back, up over her head and finished by smashing down onto the crown of the third zombie.
Stepping around my woman, I used the pointed end of my iron like a dagger. The man looked young. Early twenties. I saw nothing human in his facial expression. He didn’t come at me. He stayed by the car behind the Chrysler. Like he’d been watching it all. As if he’d just seen three of his friends pummeled to death, but didn’t have the balls to jump in and help. It was almost like if he wasn’t hungry, craving a bite out of me and Allison, that he might be tempted to turn and run.
I didn’t know how to handle that.
“Alley,” I said.
She stood next to me. “What’s it doing?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Kill it?”
“Let’s back away. See what it does.” I put my arm out. It didn’t do a thing to protect Allison. The gesture made me feel better. I’d used it hundreds of times when driving. Threw my arm out in front of Charlene—even Julie when we were married—whenever I had to stop faster than normal. Of course, they’d worn seat belts. Again, it wouldn’t do a thing to protect either one of them if we’d been involved in a collision. It was about the gesture.
I think.
We backed away, around the Chrysler. We were on Lyell Avenue.
The lack of people out might only be because it was so late. Still felt eerie.
“It’s not coming after us,” Allison said. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t like that answer. Did it imply more than it should? Was there still someone inside? Had Alley and I just murdered three people? “The others attacked. We were justified.”
“We were,” she said. There was no conviction in her tone. It sounded surer than when she told me she’d bash in a zombie’s brains if it meant saving my life, and she had.
“Thank you,” I
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