Thicker than Blood by Madeline Sheehan Page A

and then become fodder for the dead.
    Then the worst thing possible happened—I
slipped. I didn’t know how or why it happened, not that it mattered
once I was flat on my backside, my arms hanging above my head, my
wrists still chained to the altar. As the garbled groans grew
closer, I grabbed hold of my chains, kicking at the floor,
attempting to pull myself back up to my feet, but I wasn’t fast
enough. The infected reached me, and with its bony arms
outstretched, descended on me.
    I knew I was screaming, I could feel the
vibration in my lungs and in my throat, yet I couldn’t hear a
thing. My heart was pounding, my cold, sweaty hands sliding down
the chain as I continued to try to pull myself upright, my fingers
slipping with every attempt. Instinctively, I swung my right leg up
and forward, hitting the infected square in its open mouth and
sending it staggering backward. It hit the wall, the force of which
pushed it forward, giving me only a split second to pull myself
up.
    I managed to regain my footing, but the
chains had become twisted and tightened when I’d fallen, and now
running in circles around the altar was no longer an option.
    The infected came at me again, steady and
sure, and again I swung out with my leg, this time catching it in
the knee. With an audible crack, the limb bent and the infected
stumbled. But still, it kept coming, entirely unbothered.
    Frantic, I tried to untangle the chains,
screaming as I yanked and pulled, uncaring that I was openly
bleeding, uncaring that I was now probably missing most of the skin
on my wrists. I hadn’t lived this long—surviving the loss, the
pain, and the brutality of this new world—only to end up locked in
a room, chained to an altar like a sacrificial lamb, and given to
an infected as a gift.
    I took too long trying to untangle myself,
not giving myself enough time or space to get another good kick in,
before the infected came barreling back toward me. I screamed as it
reached for me, thrusting out my elbow into its chest, but without
enough strength. The shove didn’t do much, only alerted the
infected to the ready meal I’d just shoved into its face. As its
rotten teeth clamped down on my arm, I screamed again, this time
with tears in my eyes.
    “No!” I cried out, struggling harder.
“No!”
    My jacket ripped beneath the onslaught of
teeth, and I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing my shirt and skin would
be next. I was too tangled now, no room for any evasive maneuvers.
The sickly sweet smell of rot and decay was all around me, the
breathless monster on top of me, clutching at me with frozen hands.
It was over. This would be my bitter, ugly end.
    At the first scrape of teeth against my
skin, my heart skipped a beat. A visceral reaction burst forth and
I swung my arm upward, and even with as little room as I had, my
elbow dislodged from its mouth, finding purchase against its jaw.
The force of the blow wasn’t enough to send it backward, nor
distract it, but it gave me enough room to back away just enough to
lift my leg and send my foot straight into the same knee I’d
already broken.
    This time its fragile bones shattered and the
infected fell to the floor, its head slamming against the concrete.
I didn’t waste another second. I lifted my foot and sent it down
and onto the creature’s face. With the force of my stomp and the
amount of decay the infected had already endured, my foot sank
easily through its skin, its face giving way beneath my weight.
Skin split and bones cracked beneath my shoe, but I pressed on,
grinding my heel, screaming and crying until I both felt and heard
a resounding pop. Like a broken water balloon, the head of the
infected deflated, sludge pouring from it.
    The infected was now still, unmoving, and
what was left of its face entirely engulfed my tennis shoe. Still
screaming, I began kicking, attempting but unable to dislodge it.
With my refusal to touch the thing, I eventually had little choice
but to sink to the ground