stable upright position, I snapped the sword two-handed right into her neck.
Now let me clear something up for un-initiated: beheading someone isn’t easy. There’s a lot of muscle, cartilage, bone, sinew and jazz in the neck, and unless you have a heavy duty axe, or big sword, it’s fucking work to chop a head off. Certainly not like in the movies where a cavalier swing send the head flying and a gout of blood fountaining from the neck. It goes without saying I didn’t get it on the first swipe. However my strike was pretty high on the neck, and it crushed her jaw completely, as well as knocking her to the ground. She landed face down, and I curb stomped her head from behind. She twitched a few times, and I moved away to address Wally. (I was assuming at some point I would find the zombie Beaver shortly)
Wally was a good five feet away when I came down with both hands on the base of his neck, where it meets the shoulder. The sword sunk in a solid six inches, and lodged in the top of the ribcage I think. It didn’t kill him, but it gave me a solid handle on his movement. I used the grip of the sword to twist him down onto his back, where I kicked his head repeatedly until he stopped moving. Once I felt reasonably safe, I got the sword free, and stabbed him the eye. I know, this shit is grody, but I’m recording history for posterity, so fuck you if you’re sensitive and offended.
Wally and June were down. I gave the area a once over and saw it was clear, and I also saw their garage door was open. Inside said garage was a gigantor pickup truck. A Tundra, gunmetal grey. I slid into the garage quietly, making sure that it was empty, and checked the truck. Quarter tank, keys in the ignition. I gave it a quick once over, and then reached inside to start it. It turned over immediately, and sounded smooth. No hiccups. Smooth.
Fuck walking back for truck #1. This would work, and I’d make do. I took the sword off, hopped in, adjusted the seat, and backed out. In the rear view mirror I caught a brief glimpse of a kid running out behind the truck, and I jerked the brakes. I heard a thunking noise, and my heart dropped. I just hit a kid. After killing the kid’s undead parents. Fuck my life. I was exhausted, frustrated, and suddenly racked with tremendous guilt. I powered the window down and leaned out to look back. I saw a little girl, maybe 10 years old laying splayed out behind the truck. I dropped my head on the window frame and my mouth dried up. I looked again though and the kid had sat back up, and was coming to her feet. It didn’t take much for me to figure out she had been a zombie awhile. Her cheek was missing, teeth showing through, and her skin was a super alabaster color. I was actually relieved to see she was a zombie. I threw the truck into reverse again, and lined up the tires to run her over.
There was a bump, a crunch, and a giant stain left behind in the driveway. With a clear conscience, I drove down the road, off to my original destination. I stopped at the original truck and grabbed the gas cans before heading all the way down the hill. The road was just as clear of cars as it has always been, but there were quite a few tree branches down in the road. Rather than clear them out of the way, I just drove carefully around them. I didn’t want to clean the road out too much for two reasons. First, it is shit a zombie can trip up on. That’s saying something too. These fuckers can get entirely bamboozled by simple obstacles like that. I once watched a zombie walk straight forward for 15 minutes stuck in a playground swing. Damn swing was up around its armpits and it just kept going forward. Probably still there right now. And secondly, any survivors might think a cleared out road leads to salvation, and I wasn’t sure I wanted roommates just yet. Call me selfish if you want, but I’m fucking pragmatic so suck it.
I crept up to the stop sign around the corner from the gas station. Old habits die
Now let me clear something up for un-initiated: beheading someone isn’t easy. There’s a lot of muscle, cartilage, bone, sinew and jazz in the neck, and unless you have a heavy duty axe, or big sword, it’s fucking work to chop a head off. Certainly not like in the movies where a cavalier swing send the head flying and a gout of blood fountaining from the neck. It goes without saying I didn’t get it on the first swipe. However my strike was pretty high on the neck, and it crushed her jaw completely, as well as knocking her to the ground. She landed face down, and I curb stomped her head from behind. She twitched a few times, and I moved away to address Wally. (I was assuming at some point I would find the zombie Beaver shortly)
Wally was a good five feet away when I came down with both hands on the base of his neck, where it meets the shoulder. The sword sunk in a solid six inches, and lodged in the top of the ribcage I think. It didn’t kill him, but it gave me a solid handle on his movement. I used the grip of the sword to twist him down onto his back, where I kicked his head repeatedly until he stopped moving. Once I felt reasonably safe, I got the sword free, and stabbed him the eye. I know, this shit is grody, but I’m recording history for posterity, so fuck you if you’re sensitive and offended.
Wally and June were down. I gave the area a once over and saw it was clear, and I also saw their garage door was open. Inside said garage was a gigantor pickup truck. A Tundra, gunmetal grey. I slid into the garage quietly, making sure that it was empty, and checked the truck. Quarter tank, keys in the ignition. I gave it a quick once over, and then reached inside to start it. It turned over immediately, and sounded smooth. No hiccups. Smooth.
Fuck walking back for truck #1. This would work, and I’d make do. I took the sword off, hopped in, adjusted the seat, and backed out. In the rear view mirror I caught a brief glimpse of a kid running out behind the truck, and I jerked the brakes. I heard a thunking noise, and my heart dropped. I just hit a kid. After killing the kid’s undead parents. Fuck my life. I was exhausted, frustrated, and suddenly racked with tremendous guilt. I powered the window down and leaned out to look back. I saw a little girl, maybe 10 years old laying splayed out behind the truck. I dropped my head on the window frame and my mouth dried up. I looked again though and the kid had sat back up, and was coming to her feet. It didn’t take much for me to figure out she had been a zombie awhile. Her cheek was missing, teeth showing through, and her skin was a super alabaster color. I was actually relieved to see she was a zombie. I threw the truck into reverse again, and lined up the tires to run her over.
There was a bump, a crunch, and a giant stain left behind in the driveway. With a clear conscience, I drove down the road, off to my original destination. I stopped at the original truck and grabbed the gas cans before heading all the way down the hill. The road was just as clear of cars as it has always been, but there were quite a few tree branches down in the road. Rather than clear them out of the way, I just drove carefully around them. I didn’t want to clean the road out too much for two reasons. First, it is shit a zombie can trip up on. That’s saying something too. These fuckers can get entirely bamboozled by simple obstacles like that. I once watched a zombie walk straight forward for 15 minutes stuck in a playground swing. Damn swing was up around its armpits and it just kept going forward. Probably still there right now. And secondly, any survivors might think a cleared out road leads to salvation, and I wasn’t sure I wanted roommates just yet. Call me selfish if you want, but I’m fucking pragmatic so suck it.
I crept up to the stop sign around the corner from the gas station. Old habits die
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