Zombies! (Episode 7): Conflicts of Interest by Ivan Turner Page A
Authors: Ivan Turner
Tags: Zombies
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nodded. "Just need to go is all."
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that."
Culph had to hand it to the man. He was as calm as can be. Smith was a good cop. He was honest. He was a family man. He didn't shy away in the face of confrontation. Culph respected that. "Don't make me hurt you, Greg."
"Are you trying to intimidate me? You should know that's not going to work."
With one hand, Culph threw the strongbox. Smith was too well trained to fire his gun wildly, but he couldn't avoid the box without sacrificing his aim and his concentration. Culph used the advantage wisely. He came in underneath Smith's gun and delivered two punches to the man's unprotected belly. To his credit, Smith didn't drop his gun but Culph was larger and stronger and was able to just take the weapon away. Having removed the threat, Culph backed off quickly and started for the stairs.
Smith took two steps toward him before Culph raised the gun. "Don't test me, Greg."
From Smith's perspective, Culph was a murderer without boundaries. So he froze in place, petrified at the thought of his wife and children having to go on without him. In truth, if he would have charged Culph, it would have been a fist fight rather than a shooting. Whatever had driven Culph to beat Rose and kill Wilma was missing from him at that moment. He could no more have fired on Smith than he could have allowed Heron to be eaten by those zombies earlier. But it served him better that Smith didn't know that. Backpeddling all the way to the stairs, Culph kept the gun trained on his former colleague. Once there, he turned and took them two at a time. Smith didn't even bother to pursue.
***
IT was difficult for Melissa to drag Peter out of the bleachers and down onto the floor. Those few men who hadn’t panicked and ran when the zombies started attacking looked at her queerly but not a one of them interfered. Better for them. She had a taser and she wasn’t afraid to use it. She grabbed Peter by the arms so that he wouldn’t bang his head on the way down. At one point, she caught his foot on one of the bleacher benches and winced as it seemed to turn the wrong way. But he didn’t move. How could he? He was tased into oblivion. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it. She needed him awake for what was to come next. If he wasn’t awake. Well… This was her best opportunity and she was damned well going to make the most of it.
The floor of the arena was littered with bodies. A couple of zombies were floating around, feasting on the freshly killed. The air was thick with the smell of blood. With all of the living people having evacuated the place, the cold air had started to seep in and she could see the steam rising off of the entrails of the dead. It was thoroughly revolting, but Melissa was past the point of squeamishness. One zombie got a little too close and a little too curious and she shoved the taser into its ruined face. The thing's arms and legs went useless and it jerked as if on a tether. When she pulled it away and it collapsed to the floor, she spat on it. Melissa was so consumed by hate that nothing would stand in her way. The hate was all she had left and she would nurture it and protect it until it was a force all its own.
Ideally, she’d have liked to drag Peter into the ring. It was a good spot where she could lay him but there were a couple of problems. The first was the locked cage. None of the dead men around looked as if they had been workers at the warehouse so she didn’t figure to find a key. The second was the three zombie competitors still inside. Sure, two of them were incapacitated, but that didn’t preclude them as obstacles. Still, she admired St. Francis’ work.
So the ring was out.
Clearing away the chairs from the front few rows, she made a nice open area. And she didn’t just clear away the chairs. She tossed them and screamed as she did it.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that."
Culph had to hand it to the man. He was as calm as can be. Smith was a good cop. He was honest. He was a family man. He didn't shy away in the face of confrontation. Culph respected that. "Don't make me hurt you, Greg."
"Are you trying to intimidate me? You should know that's not going to work."
With one hand, Culph threw the strongbox. Smith was too well trained to fire his gun wildly, but he couldn't avoid the box without sacrificing his aim and his concentration. Culph used the advantage wisely. He came in underneath Smith's gun and delivered two punches to the man's unprotected belly. To his credit, Smith didn't drop his gun but Culph was larger and stronger and was able to just take the weapon away. Having removed the threat, Culph backed off quickly and started for the stairs.
Smith took two steps toward him before Culph raised the gun. "Don't test me, Greg."
From Smith's perspective, Culph was a murderer without boundaries. So he froze in place, petrified at the thought of his wife and children having to go on without him. In truth, if he would have charged Culph, it would have been a fist fight rather than a shooting. Whatever had driven Culph to beat Rose and kill Wilma was missing from him at that moment. He could no more have fired on Smith than he could have allowed Heron to be eaten by those zombies earlier. But it served him better that Smith didn't know that. Backpeddling all the way to the stairs, Culph kept the gun trained on his former colleague. Once there, he turned and took them two at a time. Smith didn't even bother to pursue.
***
IT was difficult for Melissa to drag Peter out of the bleachers and down onto the floor. Those few men who hadn’t panicked and ran when the zombies started attacking looked at her queerly but not a one of them interfered. Better for them. She had a taser and she wasn’t afraid to use it. She grabbed Peter by the arms so that he wouldn’t bang his head on the way down. At one point, she caught his foot on one of the bleacher benches and winced as it seemed to turn the wrong way. But he didn’t move. How could he? He was tased into oblivion. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it. She needed him awake for what was to come next. If he wasn’t awake. Well… This was her best opportunity and she was damned well going to make the most of it.
The floor of the arena was littered with bodies. A couple of zombies were floating around, feasting on the freshly killed. The air was thick with the smell of blood. With all of the living people having evacuated the place, the cold air had started to seep in and she could see the steam rising off of the entrails of the dead. It was thoroughly revolting, but Melissa was past the point of squeamishness. One zombie got a little too close and a little too curious and she shoved the taser into its ruined face. The thing's arms and legs went useless and it jerked as if on a tether. When she pulled it away and it collapsed to the floor, she spat on it. Melissa was so consumed by hate that nothing would stand in her way. The hate was all she had left and she would nurture it and protect it until it was a force all its own.
Ideally, she’d have liked to drag Peter into the ring. It was a good spot where she could lay him but there were a couple of problems. The first was the locked cage. None of the dead men around looked as if they had been workers at the warehouse so she didn’t figure to find a key. The second was the three zombie competitors still inside. Sure, two of them were incapacitated, but that didn’t preclude them as obstacles. Still, she admired St. Francis’ work.
So the ring was out.
Clearing away the chairs from the front few rows, she made a nice open area. And she didn’t just clear away the chairs. She tossed them and screamed as she did it.
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