It had no ears. Martinez knew fear was beginning to get the better of him. A bead of sweat slid down his back. The thing clomped into the room.
Martinez fired.
The sound of the gun was deafening in the small room. The headless corpse lurched back, fighting for balance. For a moment, Martinez was sure it was going down. But then it staggered forward again. He fired two more rounds, both opening holes in the thing’s shirt. Again, it staggered. Still it came. The room grew cold. The sweat that had coated his body moments before now chilled him to the bone. He knew the sudden drop in temperature was anything but natural. Steam from his breath misted before the light. The smell of the fired powder filled the room, mixing with the undeniable scent of death. Martinez felt a terror he’d never thought possible. His heart pounded and his hands shook as he took aim once more.
“What in God’s name are you?” Martinez muttered as he unloaded the rest of the clip into the headless body. This time it stumbled back against the wall, but it still did not go down. In mere seconds, it was moving again, quicker this time, as though angered by the bullets tearing through it. Before Martinez could react, it lurched forward and slammed into his body.
The kid had been fairly tall in life, but without a head stood significantly shorter than Martinez’s six feet five inches. The big cop found himself looking down upon the exposed neck where the kid’s head should have been. The horror of the whole thing distracted him so much he almost missed the knife hurtling straight for his chest. Reacting without thought, he blocked the corpse’s arm with his own, the knife less than an inch from his chest. The animated corpse was much stronger than the kid could have ever been in life. It took everything Martinez had to keep the knife at bay. He used his other hand, still clenching the empty gun, to push against the corpse’s chest. For the next several moments, the two danced around the center of the room, Martinez’s incredible physical strength just barely matching the unnatural power of the dead body. He felt the back of his legs hit the coffee table and nearly went down. As the corpse bore downward, straining to plunge its knife into Martinez’s chest, Martinez used the downward leverage to spin away from the table and keep the thing off-balance.
The cold radiating from the corpse seeped into Martinez’s muscles, making him feel slow, almost numb. Fear flooded his senses as he fought for his life. He still held the flashlight in his left hand and the gun in his right, but he knew he would have to drop one of them and take a physical hold on this nightmare if he was to have any chance of subduing it. He hated to lose the light, and though the gun was temporarily useless, another clip sat in the holster strap. On the other hand, bullets had not done him much good. Finally, he let the gun fall to the floor and used his free right hand to grab the knife arm of his attacker. He held its right forearm with his own right hand, while slipping his left arm under and around in an attempt to twist the knife free.
The corpse let loose a burst of strength and heaved Martinez against a wall. Bright stars flashed across his vision as his head bounced off a door frame. He managed to maintain his grip, but he knew his strength would not hold out much longer. He gasped as ice-cold fingers clamped around his throat. The kid’s hand was not very big, especially compared to his own massive neck, but the strong fingers dug in around his windpipe, trying to tear it out. The pain was excruciating and Martinez renewed his efforts to break free. He managed to get two fingers wrapped around the corpse’s thumb, but pulling on it only allowed the fingers to dig in deeper on the other side of his throat. He was gagging now and began to feel lightheaded. Unless he ended this in the next few seconds, he knew he was a goner.
Desperate for air, Martinez managed to
Martinez fired.
The sound of the gun was deafening in the small room. The headless corpse lurched back, fighting for balance. For a moment, Martinez was sure it was going down. But then it staggered forward again. He fired two more rounds, both opening holes in the thing’s shirt. Again, it staggered. Still it came. The room grew cold. The sweat that had coated his body moments before now chilled him to the bone. He knew the sudden drop in temperature was anything but natural. Steam from his breath misted before the light. The smell of the fired powder filled the room, mixing with the undeniable scent of death. Martinez felt a terror he’d never thought possible. His heart pounded and his hands shook as he took aim once more.
“What in God’s name are you?” Martinez muttered as he unloaded the rest of the clip into the headless body. This time it stumbled back against the wall, but it still did not go down. In mere seconds, it was moving again, quicker this time, as though angered by the bullets tearing through it. Before Martinez could react, it lurched forward and slammed into his body.
The kid had been fairly tall in life, but without a head stood significantly shorter than Martinez’s six feet five inches. The big cop found himself looking down upon the exposed neck where the kid’s head should have been. The horror of the whole thing distracted him so much he almost missed the knife hurtling straight for his chest. Reacting without thought, he blocked the corpse’s arm with his own, the knife less than an inch from his chest. The animated corpse was much stronger than the kid could have ever been in life. It took everything Martinez had to keep the knife at bay. He used his other hand, still clenching the empty gun, to push against the corpse’s chest. For the next several moments, the two danced around the center of the room, Martinez’s incredible physical strength just barely matching the unnatural power of the dead body. He felt the back of his legs hit the coffee table and nearly went down. As the corpse bore downward, straining to plunge its knife into Martinez’s chest, Martinez used the downward leverage to spin away from the table and keep the thing off-balance.
The cold radiating from the corpse seeped into Martinez’s muscles, making him feel slow, almost numb. Fear flooded his senses as he fought for his life. He still held the flashlight in his left hand and the gun in his right, but he knew he would have to drop one of them and take a physical hold on this nightmare if he was to have any chance of subduing it. He hated to lose the light, and though the gun was temporarily useless, another clip sat in the holster strap. On the other hand, bullets had not done him much good. Finally, he let the gun fall to the floor and used his free right hand to grab the knife arm of his attacker. He held its right forearm with his own right hand, while slipping his left arm under and around in an attempt to twist the knife free.
The corpse let loose a burst of strength and heaved Martinez against a wall. Bright stars flashed across his vision as his head bounced off a door frame. He managed to maintain his grip, but he knew his strength would not hold out much longer. He gasped as ice-cold fingers clamped around his throat. The kid’s hand was not very big, especially compared to his own massive neck, but the strong fingers dug in around his windpipe, trying to tear it out. The pain was excruciating and Martinez renewed his efforts to break free. He managed to get two fingers wrapped around the corpse’s thumb, but pulling on it only allowed the fingers to dig in deeper on the other side of his throat. He was gagging now and began to feel lightheaded. Unless he ended this in the next few seconds, he knew he was a goner.
Desperate for air, Martinez managed to
Similar Books
