Read Online Zombie Ascension (Book 1): Necropolis Now by Vincenzo Bilof - Free Book Online
Authors: Vincenzo Bilof
Tags: Zombies
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the woman leaned in to kiss Miles, the wide mouth full of teeth that stretched over his face dropped a bloody chunk of meat; it slipped into her blouse. Miles screamed as her teeth ripped away a layer of flesh from his cheek. His knee bent backward as the woman pressed her entire body's weight upon him. The side of his face became a faucet which spewed blood at full pressure, while the woman's mouth was full of his face.
Bob pushed her off Miles. "Get back!" he shoved Miles to his knees, and Vega immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him across the floor. Bob fired a shotgun shell right into the woman's midsection; the blast, in close proximity, caused her to leave her feet.
Vega already had a strip of gauze attached to Miles's face to staunch the bleeding.
"It burns!" he shouted. "Bitch bit me! FUCK!"
"Crybaby," Vega cradled his head on her lap.
Bob pumped the shotgun and ejected the empty shell, letting it clatter to the floor and roll near Miles's feet. The woman with a mouthful of Miles sat up, chewing, and looked at Bob without the slightest hint of hatred or surprise. She struggled to stand up again without a single grunt or complaint of pain.
"No way," Vega swallowed the lump in her throat.
The Marriott trembled again, and Bob shot the woman a second time. Her torso jerked backward at an impossible angle, but she recovered and remained upright, still chewing. With twitching hands and twisted fingers, her head tilted weakly to her bloody shoulder, while she lurched forward and nearly collapsed onto her face; the contents of the black hole that was now her stomach spilled in front of her, sliding in a tangled mess of liquids and ropy intestine.
When Bob pumped the Benelli and blew her head off in a spray of bone and brain, the rest of the body slumped forward and lay there in its own gore.
"How did that taste?" Bob shouted at the corpse. "You want dessert? Get back up!"
In response to Bob's challenge, the man who already lay on the floor sat up slightly and reached for Bob's boot. The old veteran withdrew his foot, pumped his shotgun, and splattered the guy's skull across the floor. Blood and gray brain chunks stuck to Bob's pants.
Vega wasn't about to challenge Bob's decision. As far as she was concerned, they were in hostile territory.
Shoot to kill.
There was no time to ask questions or determine cause. There was no time to think or fear. She knew how to survive, and so did her teammates. They were against the entire world, now. It was this mentality, the idea that no hope or help could arrive, which allowed them to successfully complete mission after mission.
"Stop squirming," she lifted Miles to his feet. "It's a damn improvement. Now your face looks like an Arby's menu."
Miles emitted a low, savage growl. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… those people were dead. They were both dead." He removed his hand from his bloody face and rummaged around in his pockets.
Vega could clearly see the cloud of white powder he slapped onto to his maimed face. He voraciously rubbed his finger across his lips and gums.
"Hold still," Vega said through gnashed teeth. "We need to get a field dressing on your wound."
She worked quickly while Bob continued to track the darkness with his gun. The entire structure seemed to be moving around them, as if they were inside a building that lived and breathed. Vega was uneasy, and couldn't help but constantly glance around, looking over her shoulders repeatedly.
"I can see the first floor from here," Bob said. "I can't tell… what I'm looking at."
A bandage was haphazardly applied to Miles's bleeding face. His blood covered her shaking hands. She'd never reacted like this before, and she knew it was because she wasn't in control.
"Headshots," Miles said. "Just like in the movies."
Bob turned back to him. "Yeah. Headshots work. Makes me wonder how many more…"
"I wanted to get a face-lift anyways," Miles said. "Fuck! It burns!"
Bob knelt beside him, assuming the tone of authority and
Bob pushed her off Miles. "Get back!" he shoved Miles to his knees, and Vega immediately grabbed his hand and pulled him across the floor. Bob fired a shotgun shell right into the woman's midsection; the blast, in close proximity, caused her to leave her feet.
Vega already had a strip of gauze attached to Miles's face to staunch the bleeding.
"It burns!" he shouted. "Bitch bit me! FUCK!"
"Crybaby," Vega cradled his head on her lap.
Bob pumped the shotgun and ejected the empty shell, letting it clatter to the floor and roll near Miles's feet. The woman with a mouthful of Miles sat up, chewing, and looked at Bob without the slightest hint of hatred or surprise. She struggled to stand up again without a single grunt or complaint of pain.
"No way," Vega swallowed the lump in her throat.
The Marriott trembled again, and Bob shot the woman a second time. Her torso jerked backward at an impossible angle, but she recovered and remained upright, still chewing. With twitching hands and twisted fingers, her head tilted weakly to her bloody shoulder, while she lurched forward and nearly collapsed onto her face; the contents of the black hole that was now her stomach spilled in front of her, sliding in a tangled mess of liquids and ropy intestine.
When Bob pumped the Benelli and blew her head off in a spray of bone and brain, the rest of the body slumped forward and lay there in its own gore.
"How did that taste?" Bob shouted at the corpse. "You want dessert? Get back up!"
In response to Bob's challenge, the man who already lay on the floor sat up slightly and reached for Bob's boot. The old veteran withdrew his foot, pumped his shotgun, and splattered the guy's skull across the floor. Blood and gray brain chunks stuck to Bob's pants.
Vega wasn't about to challenge Bob's decision. As far as she was concerned, they were in hostile territory.
Shoot to kill.
There was no time to ask questions or determine cause. There was no time to think or fear. She knew how to survive, and so did her teammates. They were against the entire world, now. It was this mentality, the idea that no hope or help could arrive, which allowed them to successfully complete mission after mission.
"Stop squirming," she lifted Miles to his feet. "It's a damn improvement. Now your face looks like an Arby's menu."
Miles emitted a low, savage growl. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… those people were dead. They were both dead." He removed his hand from his bloody face and rummaged around in his pockets.
Vega could clearly see the cloud of white powder he slapped onto to his maimed face. He voraciously rubbed his finger across his lips and gums.
"Hold still," Vega said through gnashed teeth. "We need to get a field dressing on your wound."
She worked quickly while Bob continued to track the darkness with his gun. The entire structure seemed to be moving around them, as if they were inside a building that lived and breathed. Vega was uneasy, and couldn't help but constantly glance around, looking over her shoulders repeatedly.
"I can see the first floor from here," Bob said. "I can't tell… what I'm looking at."
A bandage was haphazardly applied to Miles's bleeding face. His blood covered her shaking hands. She'd never reacted like this before, and she knew it was because she wasn't in control.
"Headshots," Miles said. "Just like in the movies."
Bob turned back to him. "Yeah. Headshots work. Makes me wonder how many more…"
"I wanted to get a face-lift anyways," Miles said. "Fuck! It burns!"
Bob knelt beside him, assuming the tone of authority and
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