the cabin, unsure of how to stem this particular problem. “If it isn’t the animals, it’ll be the goddamned insects.”
***
The sound of cracking branches awoke Alex from his sleep. He then heard the distinct sound of glass breaking. He shot up from the sofa and ran to the source of the sound, thinking it to be Olivia. He stood staring out the window and was sickened to find that it was one of the undead trying to get inside, shattering the windowpane in the process.
They were aggressive—more so than he recalled, and each time he encountered them, it was as frightening as the last, he admitted as his heart thundered in his chest.
Shadow was instantly snapping at the hands and limbs that presented through the broken glass.
Alex ran frantically to an adjacent window and observed that the front side of the cabin area was swarming with zombies. Most of them were feasting on the remnants of the deer and its entrails, huddled in a pack around it.
Had they smelled it? he wondered.
“Dammit Alex, think!” he said, scolding himself. He quickly retrieved his bow, quiver, the duffle bag with extra arrows, his shotgun, and strapped them onto his back. He belted his knife quickly, climbed out the rear side window, and was thankful in this instance for the bout of laziness that caused him to leave behind the ladder. He quickly scaled it and then grabbed firmly the edge of the roof. He began pulling himself up when he felt a heavy tug on his left leg.
Not again.
Memories of the first zombie bite suddenly flooded his mind and he winced.
He looked down in fear to witness as one of them had grabbed his leg and held him fast, trying to pull him back down. It tugged hard on his leg, but he was able to wriggle free, allowing it to pull his boot off as he dragged himself up and onto the roof with great effort.
One thing that he noted immediately was that the zombies were not as strong or as fast in comparison with that first one he’d encountered a few months ago. But, even in this state, they were extremely dangerous, he admitted regretfully as he made it to his feet, knowing that to underestimate them would be his death. As a matter of fact, the ones he tussled with right after the virus hit, might have pulled his whole damn leg off along with the boot.
He’d have to be more careful.
He quickly got to the apex of the roof and peered carefully out at the scene below. There were dozens of the things gathered. He wasn’t sure where they’d come from, but he needed to do something about it. Consequently, he picked one out, knocked an arrow, steadied his breathing and let it fly. It was a perfect shot, cleanly piercing a zombie’s head and downing the wretched thing.
“Now all I have to do,” he said as he retrieved another arrow from his quiver, “is that fifty more times…”
He nocked another arrow and let it fly. It too found its mark truly. Time and time again, he hit zombie after zombie, hitting the mark much more often than he did not. And as the sun moved notably in the sky above, heaps of zombies littered the ground in various states of injury, mostly unmoving.
As he moved around, he could not help but note a pile of things through a tiny skylight window in between the solar panel glass. The items he could make out included fishing gear, and he realized that there was an attic or crawl space above the ceiling of the cabin. That was something he would need to investigate—if he survived this, he supposed.
He began to fire at the ones still feasting on the deer, and one of them stood, saw him and raced toward the cabin, much faster than the others had moved. The undead creature tried in vain to get up the side of the cabin, clawing and scratching as it tried to get a handhold. Others joined in as they noticed Alex on the roof, stumbling into one another, knocking themselves over in their frantic desire to get at him.
“They fed,” he confirmed aloud, linking the feeding to the speed and strength
***
The sound of cracking branches awoke Alex from his sleep. He then heard the distinct sound of glass breaking. He shot up from the sofa and ran to the source of the sound, thinking it to be Olivia. He stood staring out the window and was sickened to find that it was one of the undead trying to get inside, shattering the windowpane in the process.
They were aggressive—more so than he recalled, and each time he encountered them, it was as frightening as the last, he admitted as his heart thundered in his chest.
Shadow was instantly snapping at the hands and limbs that presented through the broken glass.
Alex ran frantically to an adjacent window and observed that the front side of the cabin area was swarming with zombies. Most of them were feasting on the remnants of the deer and its entrails, huddled in a pack around it.
Had they smelled it? he wondered.
“Dammit Alex, think!” he said, scolding himself. He quickly retrieved his bow, quiver, the duffle bag with extra arrows, his shotgun, and strapped them onto his back. He belted his knife quickly, climbed out the rear side window, and was thankful in this instance for the bout of laziness that caused him to leave behind the ladder. He quickly scaled it and then grabbed firmly the edge of the roof. He began pulling himself up when he felt a heavy tug on his left leg.
Not again.
Memories of the first zombie bite suddenly flooded his mind and he winced.
He looked down in fear to witness as one of them had grabbed his leg and held him fast, trying to pull him back down. It tugged hard on his leg, but he was able to wriggle free, allowing it to pull his boot off as he dragged himself up and onto the roof with great effort.
One thing that he noted immediately was that the zombies were not as strong or as fast in comparison with that first one he’d encountered a few months ago. But, even in this state, they were extremely dangerous, he admitted regretfully as he made it to his feet, knowing that to underestimate them would be his death. As a matter of fact, the ones he tussled with right after the virus hit, might have pulled his whole damn leg off along with the boot.
He’d have to be more careful.
He quickly got to the apex of the roof and peered carefully out at the scene below. There were dozens of the things gathered. He wasn’t sure where they’d come from, but he needed to do something about it. Consequently, he picked one out, knocked an arrow, steadied his breathing and let it fly. It was a perfect shot, cleanly piercing a zombie’s head and downing the wretched thing.
“Now all I have to do,” he said as he retrieved another arrow from his quiver, “is that fifty more times…”
He nocked another arrow and let it fly. It too found its mark truly. Time and time again, he hit zombie after zombie, hitting the mark much more often than he did not. And as the sun moved notably in the sky above, heaps of zombies littered the ground in various states of injury, mostly unmoving.
As he moved around, he could not help but note a pile of things through a tiny skylight window in between the solar panel glass. The items he could make out included fishing gear, and he realized that there was an attic or crawl space above the ceiling of the cabin. That was something he would need to investigate—if he survived this, he supposed.
He began to fire at the ones still feasting on the deer, and one of them stood, saw him and raced toward the cabin, much faster than the others had moved. The undead creature tried in vain to get up the side of the cabin, clawing and scratching as it tried to get a handhold. Others joined in as they noticed Alex on the roof, stumbling into one another, knocking themselves over in their frantic desire to get at him.
“They fed,” he confirmed aloud, linking the feeding to the speed and strength
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