you fucking shitting me?
The sentiment turned from surprise to rage in the time it would take a fat kid to snatch a doughnut. He was going to kill me before he bled out. Well fuck him. No. I punched that infected prick right in his Adam’s apple. Bastard wasn’t gonna yell and alert his buddies either. Now both of his hands were fastened on his own neck, and he was making a sound like Gah! but it was weak and quiet like he was choking. He tried to stand, but I was having none of that, and I grabbed his filthy flannel shirt and rolled on top of him. I pulled my knife and drove it through his left eye and his struggles ceased immediately, his hands dropping to his sides.
His son’s body was right next to us.
Ship appeared out of nowhere, looked at the bodies, and dragged me to my feet. I was spitting blood and my sweatshirt was covered in gore. He shone his light on me and searched for a bite mark, but I was still pissed and I pushed him away. Well, I pushed him and fell on my ass because it was like trying to push a continental plate. He helped me up and held his flashlight to his face. Where did he bite you? he mouthed slowly.
“He didn’t. I fucking bit him,” I said, spitting for emphasis. “Now let’s get out of here before the hundred zombies that are in this building figure out where we are.”
For the second time in thirty seconds, I got the are you shitting me look. It was just as frustrating from the uninfected.
We moved to the kitchen from the bedroom and into the little boy’s bedroom. The kid had an Iron Man poster on the wall and one of those Wal-Mart plastic container thingies full of
Legos on the floor. I just remember the Iron Man and Legos is all, they stuck. We both searched for another way out, but there was no other exit. The first thud hit the door to the kitchen at about that time and it sent tendrils of ice down my back, and my nuts shriveled even further up.
We were on the second floor, but it was still a good fifteen foot drop if we decided on it. I would most likely just turn an ankle, but if Ship hit the ground from that height, there would undoubtedly be a geological event. We searched the living room and even the pantry. I had an idea of an attic trapdoor, but like the beer-toting hotties, that was another birthday candle wish that wasn’t happening.
The door was taking a serious beating and the frame was starting to crack when I looked in the kitchen. The fridge had moved away from the door an inch or two as well. We frantically looked for anything to help us, but there wasn’t even anything larger than an end table to hide behind, and all the interior doors were reminiscent of the door that led upstairs. Under the bed or in a closet would end with us as bowel movements if these things took dumps, so that was out too.
I was searching the kid’s room for a lightsaber or time displacement equipment when I had an epiphany and threw open his window. Attached to the side of the building was a fire ladder, bolted to the brick with big ass masonry bolts. Our secret was most assuredly out, so I yelled to Ship to get his ass in here, it was time to flee.
He made it into the room with both packs, as I climbed out on the ladder and the kitchen door gave way. I heard the refrigerator slide across the shitty linoleum and figured the jig was up. Ship tossed the packs out the window and they landed hard in the snow.
Now picture a four hundred pound guy trying to squeeze through a window and grab a ladder. Keep in mind this guy was recently shot in the dome, so he’s not all there anyway. The dead were coming, and poor old Shipster got his giant ass as stuck as a roach in a motel. They check in, but they don’t check the F out. He looked at me, and I honestly thought I saw fear for a moment. It was the first and only time I would ever see that on his face, although he would tell me later that he was scared shitless on many occasions.
Yes, you figured it out, our gallant and valiant hero
The sentiment turned from surprise to rage in the time it would take a fat kid to snatch a doughnut. He was going to kill me before he bled out. Well fuck him. No. I punched that infected prick right in his Adam’s apple. Bastard wasn’t gonna yell and alert his buddies either. Now both of his hands were fastened on his own neck, and he was making a sound like Gah! but it was weak and quiet like he was choking. He tried to stand, but I was having none of that, and I grabbed his filthy flannel shirt and rolled on top of him. I pulled my knife and drove it through his left eye and his struggles ceased immediately, his hands dropping to his sides.
His son’s body was right next to us.
Ship appeared out of nowhere, looked at the bodies, and dragged me to my feet. I was spitting blood and my sweatshirt was covered in gore. He shone his light on me and searched for a bite mark, but I was still pissed and I pushed him away. Well, I pushed him and fell on my ass because it was like trying to push a continental plate. He helped me up and held his flashlight to his face. Where did he bite you? he mouthed slowly.
“He didn’t. I fucking bit him,” I said, spitting for emphasis. “Now let’s get out of here before the hundred zombies that are in this building figure out where we are.”
For the second time in thirty seconds, I got the are you shitting me look. It was just as frustrating from the uninfected.
We moved to the kitchen from the bedroom and into the little boy’s bedroom. The kid had an Iron Man poster on the wall and one of those Wal-Mart plastic container thingies full of
Legos on the floor. I just remember the Iron Man and Legos is all, they stuck. We both searched for another way out, but there was no other exit. The first thud hit the door to the kitchen at about that time and it sent tendrils of ice down my back, and my nuts shriveled even further up.
We were on the second floor, but it was still a good fifteen foot drop if we decided on it. I would most likely just turn an ankle, but if Ship hit the ground from that height, there would undoubtedly be a geological event. We searched the living room and even the pantry. I had an idea of an attic trapdoor, but like the beer-toting hotties, that was another birthday candle wish that wasn’t happening.
The door was taking a serious beating and the frame was starting to crack when I looked in the kitchen. The fridge had moved away from the door an inch or two as well. We frantically looked for anything to help us, but there wasn’t even anything larger than an end table to hide behind, and all the interior doors were reminiscent of the door that led upstairs. Under the bed or in a closet would end with us as bowel movements if these things took dumps, so that was out too.
I was searching the kid’s room for a lightsaber or time displacement equipment when I had an epiphany and threw open his window. Attached to the side of the building was a fire ladder, bolted to the brick with big ass masonry bolts. Our secret was most assuredly out, so I yelled to Ship to get his ass in here, it was time to flee.
He made it into the room with both packs, as I climbed out on the ladder and the kitchen door gave way. I heard the refrigerator slide across the shitty linoleum and figured the jig was up. Ship tossed the packs out the window and they landed hard in the snow.
Now picture a four hundred pound guy trying to squeeze through a window and grab a ladder. Keep in mind this guy was recently shot in the dome, so he’s not all there anyway. The dead were coming, and poor old Shipster got his giant ass as stuck as a roach in a motel. They check in, but they don’t check the F out. He looked at me, and I honestly thought I saw fear for a moment. It was the first and only time I would ever see that on his face, although he would tell me later that he was scared shitless on many occasions.
Yes, you figured it out, our gallant and valiant hero
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