terrifyingly aware of how exposed he was.
Snapping the action back into place, he began to walk carefully toward the front of the house. He knew the front door was shut and therefore nothing could lurk inside, but the shadows were growing longer and something could easily be somewhere in the bushes or behind the trees.
In actuality, it was standing in the parking lot looking one way then the other. Maybe it had heard him and Pepe and wasn't sure where the sound was coming from. Voices did seem to echo around the house quite a bit or be carried off by the wind coming up the back of the hill from the pasture.
The zombie was very tall, with almost ebony skin, a shaved head and wearing army fatigues. The dead man's face and chest were smeared in blood and chunks of flesh and Eric felt his stomach lurch. It was probably Brandy's blood. Before he could even formulate a plan, Pepe charged forward on his leash and began to bark at the dead thing.
The pale eyes of the creature scanned the area and found Eric. With an unholy scream, it began to rush toward him.
"Dammit, Pepe," Eric said to the dog and began to run toward the porch.
The dog ran next to him, still barking, but Eric realized halfway to the porch he was not going to make it to safety. Swinging the gun around, he aimed at the creature’s head and fired. The zombie was so close, the buckshot flayed its face opened and destroyed its eyes. It screeched in frustration as it was instantly blinded and continued forward. Eric realized that the buckshot was only going to be effective at close range.
"Shit," he whispered.
The zombie was still floundering in his direction and the porch was still not close enough to reach without risking the zombie's clutches. Looking around desperately, he spotted a shovel set aside with other gardening tools. They had the appearance of being abruptly abandoned. Probably this morning when it had all gone to hell.
"Pepe, shut up!" He ordered the dog and was rewarded with a stunned look and silence.
Not wanting to waste the ammunition and feeling a deep terrible anger at the murderous thing for what it had done to Brandy, Eric picked up the shovel. Letting go of Pepe's leash, he motioned to the dog to sit and began to circumvent the blind zombie, trying to get behind it. The dead man floundered through the garden, banging into trees and foliage, but it continued toward the spot that it had last seen Eric. Pepe sat uneasily in his spot, watching his master with bright eyes with his gaze flicking toward the zombie warily. Eric pointed at Pepe to stay once more and took his time to move quietly around some benches. The zombie banged into the side of the benches and staggered a few feet to one side. Correcting itself, it began to stumble again toward where Pepe waited.
Eric set one foot on the bench and heaved himself up praying it wouldn't creak. It didn't. Then he stood, legs apart, and lifted the shovel over his head.
"Hey, fuckhead," he shouted and his voice broke from his nerves.
The zombie whipped around and started toward him.
Eric screamed in anger and slammed the shovel down hard onto the zombie's head. There was a sickening sound, like a cantaloupe being dropped on the floor, as the shovel slammed into the creature's head, splitting apart the skin and bone. The zombie stopped in its tracks and wobbled on its feet. Eric managed to draw the shovel back and slam it down again. This time it sank deep into the zombie's head and the dead man fell to the ground, truly dead.
Eric felt sick to his stomach, but jumped down off the bench and drove the shovel into the back of the man’s head a few more times. He could see now that the solider had been attacked from behind.
Snapping the action back into place, he began to walk carefully toward the front of the house. He knew the front door was shut and therefore nothing could lurk inside, but the shadows were growing longer and something could easily be somewhere in the bushes or behind the trees.
In actuality, it was standing in the parking lot looking one way then the other. Maybe it had heard him and Pepe and wasn't sure where the sound was coming from. Voices did seem to echo around the house quite a bit or be carried off by the wind coming up the back of the hill from the pasture.
The zombie was very tall, with almost ebony skin, a shaved head and wearing army fatigues. The dead man's face and chest were smeared in blood and chunks of flesh and Eric felt his stomach lurch. It was probably Brandy's blood. Before he could even formulate a plan, Pepe charged forward on his leash and began to bark at the dead thing.
The pale eyes of the creature scanned the area and found Eric. With an unholy scream, it began to rush toward him.
"Dammit, Pepe," Eric said to the dog and began to run toward the porch.
The dog ran next to him, still barking, but Eric realized halfway to the porch he was not going to make it to safety. Swinging the gun around, he aimed at the creature’s head and fired. The zombie was so close, the buckshot flayed its face opened and destroyed its eyes. It screeched in frustration as it was instantly blinded and continued forward. Eric realized that the buckshot was only going to be effective at close range.
"Shit," he whispered.
The zombie was still floundering in his direction and the porch was still not close enough to reach without risking the zombie's clutches. Looking around desperately, he spotted a shovel set aside with other gardening tools. They had the appearance of being abruptly abandoned. Probably this morning when it had all gone to hell.
"Pepe, shut up!" He ordered the dog and was rewarded with a stunned look and silence.
Not wanting to waste the ammunition and feeling a deep terrible anger at the murderous thing for what it had done to Brandy, Eric picked up the shovel. Letting go of Pepe's leash, he motioned to the dog to sit and began to circumvent the blind zombie, trying to get behind it. The dead man floundered through the garden, banging into trees and foliage, but it continued toward the spot that it had last seen Eric. Pepe sat uneasily in his spot, watching his master with bright eyes with his gaze flicking toward the zombie warily. Eric pointed at Pepe to stay once more and took his time to move quietly around some benches. The zombie banged into the side of the benches and staggered a few feet to one side. Correcting itself, it began to stumble again toward where Pepe waited.
Eric set one foot on the bench and heaved himself up praying it wouldn't creak. It didn't. Then he stood, legs apart, and lifted the shovel over his head.
"Hey, fuckhead," he shouted and his voice broke from his nerves.
The zombie whipped around and started toward him.
Eric screamed in anger and slammed the shovel down hard onto the zombie's head. There was a sickening sound, like a cantaloupe being dropped on the floor, as the shovel slammed into the creature's head, splitting apart the skin and bone. The zombie stopped in its tracks and wobbled on its feet. Eric managed to draw the shovel back and slam it down again. This time it sank deep into the zombie's head and the dead man fell to the ground, truly dead.
Eric felt sick to his stomach, but jumped down off the bench and drove the shovel into the back of the man’s head a few more times. He could see now that the solider had been attacked from behind.
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