going to have to take a closer look on foot. This in no way pleased her, but it had to be done.
She unholstered the Glock and turned on the tactical flashlight. Moving toward the overturned car, she saw that there were more wrecked vehicles fifty feet past it. As soon as her light reached that far, she heard the shriek. It was definitely coming from the other side of the far wreck. She scanned the entire area. A semitruck and multiple other vehicles had the tunnel completely blocked. Movement caught her eye and she pointed the Glock toward it. On the extreme right-hand side next to the wall was one of the crazies, struggling to get through the wreckage. Its body, about halfway through, wiggled and squirmed in the thing’s attempt to break loose. Jay turned and ran.
When she reached the Harley, she knew there was no way she would get it turned around where it was. She would have to drive past the overturned car to where there was enough room to make it work. That meant driving toward the crazies. It was as if a switch flipped in her head. Gone was the overwhelming fear. Not being able to flee did not cause her to freeze. Instead, it fueled her desire to fight. Fight these freaks of nature that threatened everything she cared about. She might not win, but she would fight.
“You assholes want some?” she shouted as she started the Harley. “Then come and get some!” She wheeled the big beast around like it was her old Harley 125 dirt bike. Sliding it between the overturned car and the wall, she spun the back end around until she was sideways to the pileup. She pulled out the Glock, and as its tactical flashlight lit up the scene, the crazy she had seen before broke free of the wreckage and was immediately replaced by another, shrieking and clawing its way through the space.
Holding the pistol with one hand, she pulled the trigger several times. The shots missed, ricocheting around the tunnel wildly. She let go of the bike to grab the gun with both hands. The Harley shot forward and ran into the wall, then fell over on her leg. Her fatal mistake—she hadn’t taken it out of gear.
The first of the crazies reached her as she was kicking the bike, trying to free her leg from under it. She threw up her arm at the last instant and felt its crushing bite. With her left hand, she shoved the muzzle against the thing’s head and pulled the trigger. The warm blood erupted straight up and rained down on her, covering her face. Spitting and blinking, she used her free leg to push its body off her. Lying on her back with one leg still trapped, she pointed the Glock back to where the hole in the wreckage was. The next crazy had pushed through and came at her at a dead run. This time she did not miss. It fell in a heap and slid a couple of feet before stopping. Jay refocused on the breach, only to see a third one almost through. Rather than struggle to get free, she lined up the shot. Front sight, extend the arms, the red dot will come into focus, she thought calmly. She squeezed the trigger. There was no timing her breathing or steadying her heart rate; she just squeezed the trigger, again and again. The noise of the pistol stopped before she saw the slide locked back. She pulled it close to her face, squinting through the blood and bits of brain matter all over her; she found the magazine release and pushed it. She went to search her right-hand jacket pocket for another, only to recognize that her right arm was no longer working. With her free leg, she shoved with all her might against the bike, waiting for the inevitable feeling of the next bite that was surely coming.
Her left leg came loose. Still sitting on her ass with her feet straight out, she pointed the empty gun’s light toward the wreck. She expected to see more of them coming. Not understanding what was happening at first, she finally realized that she had killed the third one while it was still halfway through the hole. The shrieking had multiplied and she had no
She unholstered the Glock and turned on the tactical flashlight. Moving toward the overturned car, she saw that there were more wrecked vehicles fifty feet past it. As soon as her light reached that far, she heard the shriek. It was definitely coming from the other side of the far wreck. She scanned the entire area. A semitruck and multiple other vehicles had the tunnel completely blocked. Movement caught her eye and she pointed the Glock toward it. On the extreme right-hand side next to the wall was one of the crazies, struggling to get through the wreckage. Its body, about halfway through, wiggled and squirmed in the thing’s attempt to break loose. Jay turned and ran.
When she reached the Harley, she knew there was no way she would get it turned around where it was. She would have to drive past the overturned car to where there was enough room to make it work. That meant driving toward the crazies. It was as if a switch flipped in her head. Gone was the overwhelming fear. Not being able to flee did not cause her to freeze. Instead, it fueled her desire to fight. Fight these freaks of nature that threatened everything she cared about. She might not win, but she would fight.
“You assholes want some?” she shouted as she started the Harley. “Then come and get some!” She wheeled the big beast around like it was her old Harley 125 dirt bike. Sliding it between the overturned car and the wall, she spun the back end around until she was sideways to the pileup. She pulled out the Glock, and as its tactical flashlight lit up the scene, the crazy she had seen before broke free of the wreckage and was immediately replaced by another, shrieking and clawing its way through the space.
Holding the pistol with one hand, she pulled the trigger several times. The shots missed, ricocheting around the tunnel wildly. She let go of the bike to grab the gun with both hands. The Harley shot forward and ran into the wall, then fell over on her leg. Her fatal mistake—she hadn’t taken it out of gear.
The first of the crazies reached her as she was kicking the bike, trying to free her leg from under it. She threw up her arm at the last instant and felt its crushing bite. With her left hand, she shoved the muzzle against the thing’s head and pulled the trigger. The warm blood erupted straight up and rained down on her, covering her face. Spitting and blinking, she used her free leg to push its body off her. Lying on her back with one leg still trapped, she pointed the Glock back to where the hole in the wreckage was. The next crazy had pushed through and came at her at a dead run. This time she did not miss. It fell in a heap and slid a couple of feet before stopping. Jay refocused on the breach, only to see a third one almost through. Rather than struggle to get free, she lined up the shot. Front sight, extend the arms, the red dot will come into focus, she thought calmly. She squeezed the trigger. There was no timing her breathing or steadying her heart rate; she just squeezed the trigger, again and again. The noise of the pistol stopped before she saw the slide locked back. She pulled it close to her face, squinting through the blood and bits of brain matter all over her; she found the magazine release and pushed it. She went to search her right-hand jacket pocket for another, only to recognize that her right arm was no longer working. With her free leg, she shoved with all her might against the bike, waiting for the inevitable feeling of the next bite that was surely coming.
Her left leg came loose. Still sitting on her ass with her feet straight out, she pointed the empty gun’s light toward the wreck. She expected to see more of them coming. Not understanding what was happening at first, she finally realized that she had killed the third one while it was still halfway through the hole. The shrieking had multiplied and she had no
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