faces.
The lead zombie got to within ten feet of him, moving much slower in the cold. It was a mall janitor wearing a white T-shirt under an orange vest. It looked like an ordinary dead person, except the thing’s eyes appeared to have been plucked from its head. Gus felt a pang of sympathy and revulsion as it got closer. How he’d ever been scared of the things for so long was beyond him.
Winding up, he bashed in the monster’s face. The clayish crack of its skull speared the air, and the deadhead fell over onto its back, shivering as if finally realizing how frightfully cold it was outside. Gus smashed it twice more before it stopped moving. Black blood spurted. He finished the job in time to meet the next one.
A teenage boy dressed in blue jeans and a brown wreck of a leather coat reached for him. Gus pivoted at the hips when he swung, taking off the zombie’s head and startling the hell out of himself. The body collapsed to the ground, and Gus smashed the nearby head. Crushing a head in snow, Gus discovered, was a lot harder than he would have thought. The rotten skull sank when hit, requiring a few strikes before he could finally finish the job.
“Two,” Gus counted, preparing for the next Dee coming within range. With a huff, he cracked the bat across a salesman’s jaw, driving it to the right and causing it to sag to its knees. An over-the-head strike killed it. Then came a restaurant server. It hissed, exposing a black cave of a mouth. The bat took the thing across the face and sent it stumbling to the left. He casually evaded the final zombie until he dispatched the server with another over-the-top swing.
With only one remaining, Gus faced the final corpse.
It had been a woman, dressed for the summer in short shorts and a tank top with the frilly edges of a soiled bra peeking out. The dark hair was stringy and black, as if washed in motor oil, while its sloughed midriff sported a puncture wound that looked big and ghastly enough to stick his hand into. The creature shuffled toward him, its features hanging and pitiful, dead marble eyes hinting at an agony endured with each step.
Gus changed targets at the last second and smashed out the creature’s knee.
The zombie felt over, bone punching through the decomposed skin. Its hissing face came up from the snow. Gus killed it with one heavy blow. Breathing hard, he pulled the bat out of the dead thing’s head and grimaced at the crater he’d made. Brains. He could see the off-white brains. Movement caught his attention, and he leaned over to look closer. Horror bloomed in him as he spied the little things that moved within the brain matter.
Worms.
That image straightened him up and made him look away. That was the last thing he needed to see, but he saw it nonetheless, and he knew he’d be drinking later to cleanse his memory and to ward off nightmares. Gus stepped to the snowmobile and threw open the saddle bag containing the booze. Rum. He needed rum. His hands shivered, and he hoped it was because of the cold. Just a swallow. He snapped up his visor and clawed at the saddlebag’s contents. He opened the bottle and took four mouthfuls, snarling at the last shot and realizing darkly he hadn’t meant to drink so much. But it tasted so good.
Standing on the bright expanse of the parking lot, Gus took a moment to gaze around, swirling his bottle and making the amber liquid within slosh. Five. He’d put down five undead. A good start, but he wanted more.
He started the snowmobile and drove deeper into Annapolis, hunting for the dead that had hunted him for the last two years. He scoured the streets filled with snow. Noise attracted the dead shits, so he burned through the avenues and side streets three or four times, hoping the roar of the machine would bring them into the open. He sped through the main drags, weaving in and around abandoned cars and trucks, the engine growling loud enough to wake… well, the dead. If he reached an area too choked
The lead zombie got to within ten feet of him, moving much slower in the cold. It was a mall janitor wearing a white T-shirt under an orange vest. It looked like an ordinary dead person, except the thing’s eyes appeared to have been plucked from its head. Gus felt a pang of sympathy and revulsion as it got closer. How he’d ever been scared of the things for so long was beyond him.
Winding up, he bashed in the monster’s face. The clayish crack of its skull speared the air, and the deadhead fell over onto its back, shivering as if finally realizing how frightfully cold it was outside. Gus smashed it twice more before it stopped moving. Black blood spurted. He finished the job in time to meet the next one.
A teenage boy dressed in blue jeans and a brown wreck of a leather coat reached for him. Gus pivoted at the hips when he swung, taking off the zombie’s head and startling the hell out of himself. The body collapsed to the ground, and Gus smashed the nearby head. Crushing a head in snow, Gus discovered, was a lot harder than he would have thought. The rotten skull sank when hit, requiring a few strikes before he could finally finish the job.
“Two,” Gus counted, preparing for the next Dee coming within range. With a huff, he cracked the bat across a salesman’s jaw, driving it to the right and causing it to sag to its knees. An over-the-head strike killed it. Then came a restaurant server. It hissed, exposing a black cave of a mouth. The bat took the thing across the face and sent it stumbling to the left. He casually evaded the final zombie until he dispatched the server with another over-the-top swing.
With only one remaining, Gus faced the final corpse.
It had been a woman, dressed for the summer in short shorts and a tank top with the frilly edges of a soiled bra peeking out. The dark hair was stringy and black, as if washed in motor oil, while its sloughed midriff sported a puncture wound that looked big and ghastly enough to stick his hand into. The creature shuffled toward him, its features hanging and pitiful, dead marble eyes hinting at an agony endured with each step.
Gus changed targets at the last second and smashed out the creature’s knee.
The zombie felt over, bone punching through the decomposed skin. Its hissing face came up from the snow. Gus killed it with one heavy blow. Breathing hard, he pulled the bat out of the dead thing’s head and grimaced at the crater he’d made. Brains. He could see the off-white brains. Movement caught his attention, and he leaned over to look closer. Horror bloomed in him as he spied the little things that moved within the brain matter.
Worms.
That image straightened him up and made him look away. That was the last thing he needed to see, but he saw it nonetheless, and he knew he’d be drinking later to cleanse his memory and to ward off nightmares. Gus stepped to the snowmobile and threw open the saddle bag containing the booze. Rum. He needed rum. His hands shivered, and he hoped it was because of the cold. Just a swallow. He snapped up his visor and clawed at the saddlebag’s contents. He opened the bottle and took four mouthfuls, snarling at the last shot and realizing darkly he hadn’t meant to drink so much. But it tasted so good.
Standing on the bright expanse of the parking lot, Gus took a moment to gaze around, swirling his bottle and making the amber liquid within slosh. Five. He’d put down five undead. A good start, but he wanted more.
He started the snowmobile and drove deeper into Annapolis, hunting for the dead that had hunted him for the last two years. He scoured the streets filled with snow. Noise attracted the dead shits, so he burned through the avenues and side streets three or four times, hoping the roar of the machine would bring them into the open. He sped through the main drags, weaving in and around abandoned cars and trucks, the engine growling loud enough to wake… well, the dead. If he reached an area too choked
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