sense to which her mind gains access. Nothing breaks that sound. A pure void. There’s no breeze to ruffle hair. Just thick hot air. She stares at the back of them. Seeing wounds and legs covered in shit. A grossly obese man naked with a huge gut hanging over his groin. Men and women, children too. All of them fetid and standing the same with arms hanging limp and loose and heads fixed to stare ahead.
A pin could be dropped and it would be heard. A rat swishing through a pipe would be detected. She can hear her own heart thundering with beats that hammer into her chest. Every sensation in her body is forgotten. Not the cramps in her stomach or the pain in her back or the spreading wetness in her groin from the blood that finally seeps out and into her already sweat soaked jeans that absorb what they can. That rate of absorption reaches the pinnacle of what the denim can cope with but still the blood keeps coming. It drips. Blood from her womb expunged from her body that soaks into and through her jeans to fall the distance to the ground where it lands with the tiniest of sound. Heads twitch. Her eyes grow wide. Another drip comes. Falling through the air to land with the first and she hears the beasts sniff the air. Slowly, ever so slowly she starts to move her head to look down at the same time as feeling the warm wetness in her groin. Another drip and the smell of her magnifies. Fresh blood leaking from her body that overcomes all the other pungent stenches to hit the noses of the undead who turn as one to fix red bloodshot eyes on the woman staring down at her own bloody crotch.
That second stretches forever and always. Heather staring down at the three drops of blood on the ground between her feet and flicking her eyes up to see the faces of the monsters fixing her in that evil gaze.
Three explosive forces take place all within two seconds. The first from the charge of the horde bursting to life as one. The second from the twitch of her finger on the trigger of the shotgun that ignites the charge in the cartridge of the left barrel that flames as it sends over four hundred pellets towards the oncoming mass. The shortened barrel length means the spread of pellets is increased over the shorter distance. The horde run. The pellets hit and several bodies are lacerated to be blown back by the impact. She plucks at the other trigger but it clicks dry and broken.
The third explosive force is generated by energy bunching in her muscles that detonate out to make her twist and commence running a split second after the other trigger fails to work. Three explosive forces within two seconds. They run. She fires and she runs.
In that wild panicked second she sees the gorgeous brass handles of the recessed doors in the art deco building. Doors that stand open to give entry to the thick red carpet within. Without looking back she launches across the road on legs given fresh energy from the fear in her heart. She gets through and into the vestibule without a flicker of a look at the posters on the walls and runs on, down the carpet towards the far end and risks a look back to see them reaching the doors behind her with a big man in the front. Tall with wide shoulders and thickly muscled arms who runs on strong legs with a wild look of pure hunger etched on his snarling face.
She screams in fury at being caught out so stupidly. She screams in frustration at having done so well to survive unharmed and the reckless stupid decision to venture into this town.
The space opens out on both sides. Ticket counters empty and useless on her left. On her right she passes the confectionary containers ready to be used to fill the tubs and bags. Popcorn machines filled with stale popcorn but still the smell of sugar and salt hangs in the air.
She runs faster. Gaining speed to increase the distance between them as she powers into the long corridor leading to the screens within the building. She passes them one by one. Sprinting faster than she has
A pin could be dropped and it would be heard. A rat swishing through a pipe would be detected. She can hear her own heart thundering with beats that hammer into her chest. Every sensation in her body is forgotten. Not the cramps in her stomach or the pain in her back or the spreading wetness in her groin from the blood that finally seeps out and into her already sweat soaked jeans that absorb what they can. That rate of absorption reaches the pinnacle of what the denim can cope with but still the blood keeps coming. It drips. Blood from her womb expunged from her body that soaks into and through her jeans to fall the distance to the ground where it lands with the tiniest of sound. Heads twitch. Her eyes grow wide. Another drip comes. Falling through the air to land with the first and she hears the beasts sniff the air. Slowly, ever so slowly she starts to move her head to look down at the same time as feeling the warm wetness in her groin. Another drip and the smell of her magnifies. Fresh blood leaking from her body that overcomes all the other pungent stenches to hit the noses of the undead who turn as one to fix red bloodshot eyes on the woman staring down at her own bloody crotch.
That second stretches forever and always. Heather staring down at the three drops of blood on the ground between her feet and flicking her eyes up to see the faces of the monsters fixing her in that evil gaze.
Three explosive forces take place all within two seconds. The first from the charge of the horde bursting to life as one. The second from the twitch of her finger on the trigger of the shotgun that ignites the charge in the cartridge of the left barrel that flames as it sends over four hundred pellets towards the oncoming mass. The shortened barrel length means the spread of pellets is increased over the shorter distance. The horde run. The pellets hit and several bodies are lacerated to be blown back by the impact. She plucks at the other trigger but it clicks dry and broken.
The third explosive force is generated by energy bunching in her muscles that detonate out to make her twist and commence running a split second after the other trigger fails to work. Three explosive forces within two seconds. They run. She fires and she runs.
In that wild panicked second she sees the gorgeous brass handles of the recessed doors in the art deco building. Doors that stand open to give entry to the thick red carpet within. Without looking back she launches across the road on legs given fresh energy from the fear in her heart. She gets through and into the vestibule without a flicker of a look at the posters on the walls and runs on, down the carpet towards the far end and risks a look back to see them reaching the doors behind her with a big man in the front. Tall with wide shoulders and thickly muscled arms who runs on strong legs with a wild look of pure hunger etched on his snarling face.
She screams in fury at being caught out so stupidly. She screams in frustration at having done so well to survive unharmed and the reckless stupid decision to venture into this town.
The space opens out on both sides. Ticket counters empty and useless on her left. On her right she passes the confectionary containers ready to be used to fill the tubs and bags. Popcorn machines filled with stale popcorn but still the smell of sugar and salt hangs in the air.
She runs faster. Gaining speed to increase the distance between them as she powers into the long corridor leading to the screens within the building. She passes them one by one. Sprinting faster than she has
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