Encounters by Stewart Felkel

fired as he moved down the hall towards the elementary wing. When was empty he was tempted to toss his pistol at them. Instead he holstered it and drew his machete. He violently hacked and slashed at the groping hands backing up slowly staying out of reach. Hack and shuffle. Slash and move. He had cut the group in half but they were still coming on strong. The only thing saving him was that they kept crowding in each other’s way.
    Then the worst happened. His machete stuck in the neck of what could have only been the powerlifting coach. A surprisingly short coach but its neck was huge. And his only weapon was jammed. When the zombie fell it pulled the machete from his hands. His eyes widened with panic and his breath came in pants and gasps. All of his careful planning was about to be ruined because of one stupid mistake. His eyes darted wildly looking for a way out. He spotted an emergency glass with an axe behind it farther down the hall and darted for it.
    Using his pistol as a hammer he shielded his eyes and shattered the glass. He wrenched the axe out just in time to crush the skull of the first zombie to reach him. Then it was back to more of the same. Thinking quickly he took a desperate measure and backed into a classroom. He didn’t have time to shut it and lock it behind him but at least it forced them to come at him one at a time.
    As they tried to get through the door he would swing overhead smashing them lifeless to the ground creating a barrier for the others to have to get past. He swung until he thought his arms and lungs would give out. When he couldn’t swing another time the last one fell to his axe. He slammed the door and wedged it with a chair before collapsing against the wall. His chest heaved and his arms were lead. He had to get out through the window if possible he decided. He would come back tomorrow and go back to his usual tactics. Grabbing the top of the desk closest to him he pulled himself up and tottered to the window. It didn’t open.
    “What kind of fire hazard is this” he asked ruefully. “The Fire Marshall would be pissed!”
    The axe made quick work of the glass. The noise drew more undead to his hiding spot though. He heard fists on the door as he cleared the remainder of the glass. He hurriedly slid through and made a dash back towards his truck.
    He came back the next day as prepared as he could get. He circled the building twice looking through windows to get an idea of how many were inside. There were more than he had expected. Teachers, janitors, and of course students. He knocked the pins out of the hinges of one of the front doors and let it sag to the ground. He had backed his truck up to within fifty yards of the entrance and left it running in case things went south. He set a radio in front of the bullhorn and let it blast away drawing them from deep inside the school. He took up position in the bed and proceeded to fire as they came. The little ones were the worst but he finally got them all.
    When he had made certain that every nook was clear he put the door back on its hinges, boarded up the broken window, and moved the bodies to where he had burned the rest. Afterwards he went home and alternated crying and sleeping for days.
    ***
    Walking in the woods predawn was always a little creepy even before the dead began to walk. He didn’t let that stop him from making the early morning walk back to his tree stand. Truthfully he supposed that he could just hunt off of his own deck, but he didn’t feel that was prudent. He liked to keep his kills far away from home. Fewer zombies wandered into his neck of the woods every week but he still liked to keep the area clear. He set up station and watched as his mind drifted. A flash of motion caught his attention. He snapped to and focused through his scope. He spotted a young woman, early twenties maybe, staggering through the woods. Her hair fell lank on her face. Her clothes were filthy. She couldn’t have turned long