from the side and knocked me off my feet. I hit the dirt hard, pinned under a writhing body with teeth snapping inches from my face. I pulled my right from beneath me and grabbed the thing’s throat. My fingers sank into soft flesh, cool and pliant. Little details caught my attention like debris in a flood. The zombie was female, maybe in her twenties, and was no one I recognized. The lack of decay suggested she was newly turned, but she was emaciated. If it was possible for one zombie to be more ravenous than another, I’d guess she was starving as she fought with all her strength to take a bite out of my face.
I didn’t know if the undead had extraordinary strength or if it was the sheer relentlessness of their will that made them appear so powerful. But the girl trying to eat me was pounds lighter than me and my will to live was stronger than hers to feed. I threw her off and twisted to the side then grabbed for the knife I’d dropped when she tackled me. I held the point upright so when she threw herself at me again, she impaled her throat on the blade. I gave it a savage twist, severing her spine and she convulsed into stillness on top of me.
Blood bathed my hands and face. I blinked to clear my eyes, pushed the corpse off me and loosened the knife embedded in its flesh. Whenever I got doused, I wondered if infection had entered my bloodstream through some scratch. No one really knew how the process worked. Usually a bitten person fell sick, died and reanimated, but it might be possible to live a normal life and have the mutated blood reveal only after death.
I wrenched my knife free and climbed to my feet. Glimpsing Ashleigh’s pursuer through the corn, I ran toward him, dried leaves lashing my face. The zombie disappeared, crossing into another row. Ashleigh must be zigzagging in an attempt to shake her pursuer. I plunged to the left, breaking through the stalks and spotted the zombie just as it leaped onto Ashleigh like a leopard taking down an antelope. She beat at the thing’s head with her empty pistol as the zombie lunged for her throat.
Rage unleashed a surge of adrenaline that hurtled my body across the ground. I was nearly flying by the time I landed on my opponent’s back, grabbed hold of its jacket and hauled it off of Ashleigh.
The zombie pulled free from my grip and twisted to face me. Zombies don’t appear to see well with their milky-white eyes, but their hearing and sense of smell are keen. A heart pumping blood is all they need to guide them to their quarry. The creature charged at me, weaponless except for its hands and teeth. I slashed at its face with my knife and it didn’t recoil when my blade sliced through its rotting cheek.
I swiveled to the side as the zombie lurched past me, then I darted in, grasped its coat collar and struck at the exposed throat. My first cut wasn’t deep enough to sever the spine. The zombie grabbed my arm, gripping with the strength of a pit bull. I winced as my bones ground together. My fingers went numb and I dropped the knife. Shit . This is it. I’d let my opponent gain the upper hand and now I was going to be devoured. I drew a deep breath, maybe my last breath, and all I could smell was death.
Suddenly the grip on my arm released.
“ Die, you motherfucker!” Ashleigh screeched as she sawed through the back of the zombie’s neck with my knife. She pulled out her blade and struck again. She was crazed, stabbing the knife into the zombie over and over. I stayed back, afraid she might slash me if I got too close, and watched as she straddled the zombie’s bucking body until it collapsed in a headless heap.
Ashleigh sat on top of the corpse, panting, tears rolling down her cheeks. I couldn’t wait for her to recover. The number one fact of a zombie attack is they never stop coming. There’s no time to take stock or plan your next move. You have to react on instinct and keep moving.
I grabbed Ashleigh’s
I didn’t know if the undead had extraordinary strength or if it was the sheer relentlessness of their will that made them appear so powerful. But the girl trying to eat me was pounds lighter than me and my will to live was stronger than hers to feed. I threw her off and twisted to the side then grabbed for the knife I’d dropped when she tackled me. I held the point upright so when she threw herself at me again, she impaled her throat on the blade. I gave it a savage twist, severing her spine and she convulsed into stillness on top of me.
Blood bathed my hands and face. I blinked to clear my eyes, pushed the corpse off me and loosened the knife embedded in its flesh. Whenever I got doused, I wondered if infection had entered my bloodstream through some scratch. No one really knew how the process worked. Usually a bitten person fell sick, died and reanimated, but it might be possible to live a normal life and have the mutated blood reveal only after death.
I wrenched my knife free and climbed to my feet. Glimpsing Ashleigh’s pursuer through the corn, I ran toward him, dried leaves lashing my face. The zombie disappeared, crossing into another row. Ashleigh must be zigzagging in an attempt to shake her pursuer. I plunged to the left, breaking through the stalks and spotted the zombie just as it leaped onto Ashleigh like a leopard taking down an antelope. She beat at the thing’s head with her empty pistol as the zombie lunged for her throat.
Rage unleashed a surge of adrenaline that hurtled my body across the ground. I was nearly flying by the time I landed on my opponent’s back, grabbed hold of its jacket and hauled it off of Ashleigh.
The zombie pulled free from my grip and twisted to face me. Zombies don’t appear to see well with their milky-white eyes, but their hearing and sense of smell are keen. A heart pumping blood is all they need to guide them to their quarry. The creature charged at me, weaponless except for its hands and teeth. I slashed at its face with my knife and it didn’t recoil when my blade sliced through its rotting cheek.
I swiveled to the side as the zombie lurched past me, then I darted in, grasped its coat collar and struck at the exposed throat. My first cut wasn’t deep enough to sever the spine. The zombie grabbed my arm, gripping with the strength of a pit bull. I winced as my bones ground together. My fingers went numb and I dropped the knife. Shit . This is it. I’d let my opponent gain the upper hand and now I was going to be devoured. I drew a deep breath, maybe my last breath, and all I could smell was death.
Suddenly the grip on my arm released.
“ Die, you motherfucker!” Ashleigh screeched as she sawed through the back of the zombie’s neck with my knife. She pulled out her blade and struck again. She was crazed, stabbing the knife into the zombie over and over. I stayed back, afraid she might slash me if I got too close, and watched as she straddled the zombie’s bucking body until it collapsed in a headless heap.
Ashleigh sat on top of the corpse, panting, tears rolling down her cheeks. I couldn’t wait for her to recover. The number one fact of a zombie attack is they never stop coming. There’s no time to take stock or plan your next move. You have to react on instinct and keep moving.
I grabbed Ashleigh’s
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