boat glowed as he stepped into the gateway, preparing to pull the barrier shut.
The boat cover was partially off. Dylan halted.
The shadows moved and two zombies sat up from the bottom of the boat, sniffing the air with vigour, chunks of animal flesh hanging from their mouths.
The rabbits .
The y were eating the meat Callan had stored in the boat fridge. The smell must have lured them. The zombies dismissed their curiosity and returned to the feast. With their heads down, it was impossible to see them in the dark.
Dylan’s guts shrivelled and he fought the urge to run. He had known such a fight was coming, eventually. Did he call the others? No, it would alert the zombies. He had the surprise advantage, and might be able to kill one easily.
Holding his breath, he stepped towards the boat. Could he really do this? What if it was someone he knew, one of his parents, or a neighbour? They were no longer who they had been in their previous life though, and they would kill him without hesitation. If the town was as bad as they thought, killing these things would become normal. He considered what would happen if he didn’t kill them. No kiss with Kristy, or death.
H e tightened his grip around the axe handle, and raised it.
The first zombie looked up. Dylan swung sideways as if cutting into a tree. The blade dug into the soft flesh of its neck and its head jerked sideways. Blood exploded in jets, and Dylan felt wetness on his shirt. The zombie fell out of the boat with a thump. He pulled the axe loose and stepped back for another swing as the other monster slid over the edge.
As it attacked, a third zombie feeding in the bottom of the boat stood up grunting and started climbing out of the boat. Dylan watch horrified. I can’t beat three of them.
The distraction c ost his advantage, and the second undead closed, sticking out its arms, clutching with curling, bloody fingers. Dylan felt slimy hands and swung the axe, breaking its grip and slicing its arm. The zombie shrieked, but didn’t halt. Dylan jumped back, and turned to face them on a steeper downward slope, gagging at their stinking smell, fear tugging at the stability of his mind.
They lurched at him and h e raised his weapon, securing his footing for a powerful swing, but his left foot slipped on the loose gravel and he lost balance. They were on him in a moment, scratching at his clothes, and he felt their hot breath on the back of his neck. I’m dead, he thought. I’m going to die. He couldn’t believe this is how it would end.
A dull thud sounded and one of the zombies fell aside, grunting. Move, he demanded. Do something! Dylan thrust upwards with the thick back section of the axe, connecting with a head. He swung again, and hit the monsters torso, knocking it backwards onto its ass.
Greg stood to the side with the shotgun turned upside down, drawn back as if waiting for a pitch. The zombie crawled towards him begging for more and he swung again with one of the sweetest actions Dylan had ever seen. The sound made a thump, like striking leather. The side of the monster’s head caved and it folded to the gravel.
Two down.
Dylan stood, drawing the axe into position. “Thanks,” he said, breathing heavy. He had thought he was dead, writing off Kristy, making it home, and finding his parents. Euphoric joy flooded him and he wanted to shout, but he knew they weren’t finished.
The monster Dylan had knocked over looked from one to the other, hissing. It chose Dylan and lumbered towards him. Invigorated, he re-enacted his first swing and the axe dug into its bony neck, but still did not severe the head. The undead staggered, and Dylan swung again, this time knocking it to the rocky patch as stones kicked up. It lay with savage wounds to the neck and shoulder, its mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He thought of how close he had come to dying,
The boat cover was partially off. Dylan halted.
The shadows moved and two zombies sat up from the bottom of the boat, sniffing the air with vigour, chunks of animal flesh hanging from their mouths.
The rabbits .
The y were eating the meat Callan had stored in the boat fridge. The smell must have lured them. The zombies dismissed their curiosity and returned to the feast. With their heads down, it was impossible to see them in the dark.
Dylan’s guts shrivelled and he fought the urge to run. He had known such a fight was coming, eventually. Did he call the others? No, it would alert the zombies. He had the surprise advantage, and might be able to kill one easily.
Holding his breath, he stepped towards the boat. Could he really do this? What if it was someone he knew, one of his parents, or a neighbour? They were no longer who they had been in their previous life though, and they would kill him without hesitation. If the town was as bad as they thought, killing these things would become normal. He considered what would happen if he didn’t kill them. No kiss with Kristy, or death.
H e tightened his grip around the axe handle, and raised it.
The first zombie looked up. Dylan swung sideways as if cutting into a tree. The blade dug into the soft flesh of its neck and its head jerked sideways. Blood exploded in jets, and Dylan felt wetness on his shirt. The zombie fell out of the boat with a thump. He pulled the axe loose and stepped back for another swing as the other monster slid over the edge.
As it attacked, a third zombie feeding in the bottom of the boat stood up grunting and started climbing out of the boat. Dylan watch horrified. I can’t beat three of them.
The distraction c ost his advantage, and the second undead closed, sticking out its arms, clutching with curling, bloody fingers. Dylan felt slimy hands and swung the axe, breaking its grip and slicing its arm. The zombie shrieked, but didn’t halt. Dylan jumped back, and turned to face them on a steeper downward slope, gagging at their stinking smell, fear tugging at the stability of his mind.
They lurched at him and h e raised his weapon, securing his footing for a powerful swing, but his left foot slipped on the loose gravel and he lost balance. They were on him in a moment, scratching at his clothes, and he felt their hot breath on the back of his neck. I’m dead, he thought. I’m going to die. He couldn’t believe this is how it would end.
A dull thud sounded and one of the zombies fell aside, grunting. Move, he demanded. Do something! Dylan thrust upwards with the thick back section of the axe, connecting with a head. He swung again, and hit the monsters torso, knocking it backwards onto its ass.
Greg stood to the side with the shotgun turned upside down, drawn back as if waiting for a pitch. The zombie crawled towards him begging for more and he swung again with one of the sweetest actions Dylan had ever seen. The sound made a thump, like striking leather. The side of the monster’s head caved and it folded to the gravel.
Two down.
Dylan stood, drawing the axe into position. “Thanks,” he said, breathing heavy. He had thought he was dead, writing off Kristy, making it home, and finding his parents. Euphoric joy flooded him and he wanted to shout, but he knew they weren’t finished.
The monster Dylan had knocked over looked from one to the other, hissing. It chose Dylan and lumbered towards him. Invigorated, he re-enacted his first swing and the axe dug into its bony neck, but still did not severe the head. The undead staggered, and Dylan swung again, this time knocking it to the rocky patch as stones kicked up. It lay with savage wounds to the neck and shoulder, its mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He thought of how close he had come to dying,
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