Stephen Drivick's Blog - Posts Tagged "inktera"
Virtual Ebook Fair - Sample Saturday #1
Sample from Sometimes We Ran: A Story from the Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 1
Sightseeing
Of all the things you could find on the road during a zombie apocalypse, the undead kids were always the worst.
I mean, the regular undead and the dogs were bad enough, but the kid versions really messed with your head. I watched from my hiding place among the gas pumps as the little walking corpse shambled around the parking lot. She had been a little girl, really cute and adorable. Her dress, or what remained of her dress, was a little pink frilly job with lace at the neck. She dragged her right leg behind her. The foot was nearly chewed off, and the bones were exposed. Her chest cavity was pretty much gone, and her lower jaw was missing. The only sound she could make was a horrible gurgling sound, like someone was pouring milk down her throat as she was trying to scream.
What was she, seven, eight years old? Damn shame. She's never going to grow up, go to school, or dance at a prom.
Never going to bring home a boy that pisses off her Dad.
I noticed she was clutching a headless doll. It was blood stained and extremely filthy. I think that detail unsettled me most of all. Sometimes you see the dead walking around clutching the last thing they ever touched. It could be an empty gun from their last battle, or a steak knife, or even something as mundane as a coffee cup. The kids usually have a teddy bear or some other favorite toy in their cold, dead hands.
The headless doll was a new one. I'd never seen a zombie holding one before.
I watched for a few more minutes. She didn't notice me among the gas pumps, so I guess she was pretty far gone. Usually these zombies catch on to fresh meat pretty quick and come running for a quick meal.
I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to put her down before she drew more of her undead friends to the gas station. I drew my gun and stepped out from my hiding place to put the little bastard out of her misery. She noticed me and began that horrible noise they all make. It's usually a high pitched squeal, or a low, menacing growl. Without her lower jaw, though, it was more of a low gurgle that raised goose bumps on my arm. No matter how many of these things I put down, that sound still causes the the little hairs on my neck to stand up.
Then there's the eyes. They are usually yellow or red. The yellows are more common, but it's the rare reds that could be a problem. They're more violent and hungry, and will attack on sight. With Red-Eyes, you shoot first and run away quickly.
And you better hit them in the head. It's the only way to put them down. Just like in the movies. Sometimes that doesn't even work on the first try.
One of her eyes was gone; the other was yellow. She raised the arm without the doll and started dragging herself over to me, very slowly.
Sometimes these things can be pretty fast. I recall an incident with one a few weeks ago. It was a soccer mom, I think. I stumbled on her in another parking lot somewhere long ago. For a minute, I thought she was a survivor, until I saw her dead, yellow eyes and the fresh blood on her designer clothes. She had been feeding. Her victim was a younger girl, a teenager. I hoped it wasn't her daughter. Maybe her meal had been part of her carpool or something.
She was one of the fast ones. As soon as she saw me, she made an unholy shriek and ran in my direction. I was ready, and took her out with my rifle. It took two shots. I missed on the first, and hit her in the shoulder. The second shot got her right between the eyes. She was going so fast, she actually ran for a few more steps before falling. I put a bullet in her last meal too, just in case.
The little girl zombie at the gas station wasn't going anywhere fast. She could barely move under her own power. Besides her mangled right foot, most of the bones and muscles in her legs and lower extremities were either broken or missing. As I approached, I circled around her to assess the situation. The best she could do was turn slightly and moan. She was too far gone to be able to chase me.
The back of her head was mostly gone as well. How the hell was she still walking around? Some of these things can be tough customers. I've seen a few with missing limbs crawling on the ground to find their next meal. Others had the skin mostly peeled from their bodies, their skeletons exposed like a realistic Halloween costume. Sometimes, they're burned or crushed beyond recognition, but still walking around and feeding. Then there were the dogs.
Nobody figured that dogs could turn. They ate infected meat from the ones walking around, and then they turned into undead dogs. The turned dogs were always bad news. They're a hell of a lot faster, and they work in groups. It's good old-fashioned nightmare fuel. You must always avoid the dogs.
I followed the little girl zombie for a few seconds, getting ready to blow her rotting brains out. I also looked around to see if she was alone. I didn't want any of her undead buddies sneaking up on me. It was just her and me in this former gas station. A long time ago, people would stop here on the way to work to gas up their cars and continue on with their ordinary lives. Mom and Dad would fill up their coffee cups with inexpensive brew and the kids would buy their sugary snacks. Now the only remaining cars are the stripped hulks abandoned here when the fuel ran out. The coffee and sugary snacks are long gone. Mom and Dad and the kids are dead, or walking around feeding on the living as one big happy zombie family.
It really hurts to think about the old world, before it all went bad.
The little girl zombie stumbled, and fell at my feet. She reached for me in hunger. It might have been my imagination, but I almost saw her begging me to kill her and put her out of her misery. I put the gun up to her head. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, and that her perpetual nightmare was finally over. They are never grateful. They're just animals, living only to feed. I pulled the trigger, and her head exploded like an overripe melon.
Scratch another Yellow-Eye.
I turned my attention to the gas station. I took a quick look around to see if there are any more nasty surprises inside. You can never be too careful. Not in this new world.
The building was clear. The place, a virtual time capsule, was frozen at the exact time the stuff hit the fan. All the gas was, of course, gone. Also gone was most of the food and water. What was left was either spoiled and useless or spread on the ground. The floor was a macabre mixture of smashed food, garbage, and dried blood. A few spent shotgun shells were scattered on the black-and-white tiled floor. This place must have been a war zone when everybody tried to find safety. I could almost see the throng of people trying to buy or steal anything that wasn't tied down. The first few days of the outbreak were pure hell. I didn't find much: a few unopened bottles of water and a few batteries. Everything else was useless. The register was crammed full of old twenty dollar bills. Maybe someone could use them as toilet paper.
I found a few unopened packages of beef jerky near the cash register. Beef jerky is not my favorite, but you can't pass up a meal when it presents itself. I bit off a sizable portion, and started to chew. The dried meat was salty and felt a little like shoe leather in my mouth. I ignored the horrible taste, and swallowed. It went down hard, but the nourishment was welcome. I threw a few packages in my backpack. It might come in handy someday. I finished my little snack, and then started poking around the counter looking for more goodies.
I heard a noise behind me. Without thinking, I turned around with my handgun already drawn. All these weeks on the road running from the undead have honed my skills to a fine point. The slightest noise gets me ready for battle.
It's only a cat. I've drawn my weapon on a skinny, little gray cat with a big round face trying to eat a bloated sugar doughnut on the floor. One of its paws was mangled beyond repair. Like me, this little guy has had to struggle a bit to survive.
So far, all the cats that I have encountered have been normal. I bent down, and extended my hand palm up to show that I was friendly. The cat would have nothing of it, and arched its back. It showed its teeth and howled a little bit. I guess it had gone a little feral.
Okay, little fella. I'll leave you alone. Just to show him I wasn't a bad guy, I ripped a few pieces of beef jerky into bite-sized chunks, and dropped them in front of the cat's nose. Hunger overcame fear, and it pounced on the small meal like a playful kitten. Enjoy, little buddy. Maybe one day you can help me out of a jam. I waved goodbye to my little feline companion, and walked outside into the fading sunlight.
I thought about staying the night here. My legs and back were aching, and I could use a nice long rest. However, the little girl zombie may not have been alone. I decided to walk on down the road. When it gets dark, I'll find a place to bed down and rest. You do not want to travel at night. Things get much worse at night.
As a walked away from the gas station, I noticed the sign It said $3.58/gallon for regular unleaded. Not a bad price for gas during an apocalypse.
***************************
Available for sale in the Amazon Kindle bookstore. $2.99, or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
*****************************************
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 1
Sightseeing
Of all the things you could find on the road during a zombie apocalypse, the undead kids were always the worst.
I mean, the regular undead and the dogs were bad enough, but the kid versions really messed with your head. I watched from my hiding place among the gas pumps as the little walking corpse shambled around the parking lot. She had been a little girl, really cute and adorable. Her dress, or what remained of her dress, was a little pink frilly job with lace at the neck. She dragged her right leg behind her. The foot was nearly chewed off, and the bones were exposed. Her chest cavity was pretty much gone, and her lower jaw was missing. The only sound she could make was a horrible gurgling sound, like someone was pouring milk down her throat as she was trying to scream.
What was she, seven, eight years old? Damn shame. She's never going to grow up, go to school, or dance at a prom.
Never going to bring home a boy that pisses off her Dad.
I noticed she was clutching a headless doll. It was blood stained and extremely filthy. I think that detail unsettled me most of all. Sometimes you see the dead walking around clutching the last thing they ever touched. It could be an empty gun from their last battle, or a steak knife, or even something as mundane as a coffee cup. The kids usually have a teddy bear or some other favorite toy in their cold, dead hands.
The headless doll was a new one. I'd never seen a zombie holding one before.
I watched for a few more minutes. She didn't notice me among the gas pumps, so I guess she was pretty far gone. Usually these zombies catch on to fresh meat pretty quick and come running for a quick meal.
I knew what I had to do. I knew I had to put her down before she drew more of her undead friends to the gas station. I drew my gun and stepped out from my hiding place to put the little bastard out of her misery. She noticed me and began that horrible noise they all make. It's usually a high pitched squeal, or a low, menacing growl. Without her lower jaw, though, it was more of a low gurgle that raised goose bumps on my arm. No matter how many of these things I put down, that sound still causes the the little hairs on my neck to stand up.
Then there's the eyes. They are usually yellow or red. The yellows are more common, but it's the rare reds that could be a problem. They're more violent and hungry, and will attack on sight. With Red-Eyes, you shoot first and run away quickly.
And you better hit them in the head. It's the only way to put them down. Just like in the movies. Sometimes that doesn't even work on the first try.
One of her eyes was gone; the other was yellow. She raised the arm without the doll and started dragging herself over to me, very slowly.
Sometimes these things can be pretty fast. I recall an incident with one a few weeks ago. It was a soccer mom, I think. I stumbled on her in another parking lot somewhere long ago. For a minute, I thought she was a survivor, until I saw her dead, yellow eyes and the fresh blood on her designer clothes. She had been feeding. Her victim was a younger girl, a teenager. I hoped it wasn't her daughter. Maybe her meal had been part of her carpool or something.
She was one of the fast ones. As soon as she saw me, she made an unholy shriek and ran in my direction. I was ready, and took her out with my rifle. It took two shots. I missed on the first, and hit her in the shoulder. The second shot got her right between the eyes. She was going so fast, she actually ran for a few more steps before falling. I put a bullet in her last meal too, just in case.
The little girl zombie at the gas station wasn't going anywhere fast. She could barely move under her own power. Besides her mangled right foot, most of the bones and muscles in her legs and lower extremities were either broken or missing. As I approached, I circled around her to assess the situation. The best she could do was turn slightly and moan. She was too far gone to be able to chase me.
The back of her head was mostly gone as well. How the hell was she still walking around? Some of these things can be tough customers. I've seen a few with missing limbs crawling on the ground to find their next meal. Others had the skin mostly peeled from their bodies, their skeletons exposed like a realistic Halloween costume. Sometimes, they're burned or crushed beyond recognition, but still walking around and feeding. Then there were the dogs.
Nobody figured that dogs could turn. They ate infected meat from the ones walking around, and then they turned into undead dogs. The turned dogs were always bad news. They're a hell of a lot faster, and they work in groups. It's good old-fashioned nightmare fuel. You must always avoid the dogs.
I followed the little girl zombie for a few seconds, getting ready to blow her rotting brains out. I also looked around to see if she was alone. I didn't want any of her undead buddies sneaking up on me. It was just her and me in this former gas station. A long time ago, people would stop here on the way to work to gas up their cars and continue on with their ordinary lives. Mom and Dad would fill up their coffee cups with inexpensive brew and the kids would buy their sugary snacks. Now the only remaining cars are the stripped hulks abandoned here when the fuel ran out. The coffee and sugary snacks are long gone. Mom and Dad and the kids are dead, or walking around feeding on the living as one big happy zombie family.
It really hurts to think about the old world, before it all went bad.
The little girl zombie stumbled, and fell at my feet. She reached for me in hunger. It might have been my imagination, but I almost saw her begging me to kill her and put her out of her misery. I put the gun up to her head. I wanted to tell her it would be okay, and that her perpetual nightmare was finally over. They are never grateful. They're just animals, living only to feed. I pulled the trigger, and her head exploded like an overripe melon.
Scratch another Yellow-Eye.
I turned my attention to the gas station. I took a quick look around to see if there are any more nasty surprises inside. You can never be too careful. Not in this new world.
The building was clear. The place, a virtual time capsule, was frozen at the exact time the stuff hit the fan. All the gas was, of course, gone. Also gone was most of the food and water. What was left was either spoiled and useless or spread on the ground. The floor was a macabre mixture of smashed food, garbage, and dried blood. A few spent shotgun shells were scattered on the black-and-white tiled floor. This place must have been a war zone when everybody tried to find safety. I could almost see the throng of people trying to buy or steal anything that wasn't tied down. The first few days of the outbreak were pure hell. I didn't find much: a few unopened bottles of water and a few batteries. Everything else was useless. The register was crammed full of old twenty dollar bills. Maybe someone could use them as toilet paper.
I found a few unopened packages of beef jerky near the cash register. Beef jerky is not my favorite, but you can't pass up a meal when it presents itself. I bit off a sizable portion, and started to chew. The dried meat was salty and felt a little like shoe leather in my mouth. I ignored the horrible taste, and swallowed. It went down hard, but the nourishment was welcome. I threw a few packages in my backpack. It might come in handy someday. I finished my little snack, and then started poking around the counter looking for more goodies.
I heard a noise behind me. Without thinking, I turned around with my handgun already drawn. All these weeks on the road running from the undead have honed my skills to a fine point. The slightest noise gets me ready for battle.
It's only a cat. I've drawn my weapon on a skinny, little gray cat with a big round face trying to eat a bloated sugar doughnut on the floor. One of its paws was mangled beyond repair. Like me, this little guy has had to struggle a bit to survive.
So far, all the cats that I have encountered have been normal. I bent down, and extended my hand palm up to show that I was friendly. The cat would have nothing of it, and arched its back. It showed its teeth and howled a little bit. I guess it had gone a little feral.
Okay, little fella. I'll leave you alone. Just to show him I wasn't a bad guy, I ripped a few pieces of beef jerky into bite-sized chunks, and dropped them in front of the cat's nose. Hunger overcame fear, and it pounced on the small meal like a playful kitten. Enjoy, little buddy. Maybe one day you can help me out of a jam. I waved goodbye to my little feline companion, and walked outside into the fading sunlight.
I thought about staying the night here. My legs and back were aching, and I could use a nice long rest. However, the little girl zombie may not have been alone. I decided to walk on down the road. When it gets dark, I'll find a place to bed down and rest. You do not want to travel at night. Things get much worse at night.
As a walked away from the gas station, I noticed the sign It said $3.58/gallon for regular unleaded. Not a bad price for gas during an apocalypse.
***************************
Available for sale in the Amazon Kindle bookstore. $2.99, or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00CZLEYZE
*****************************************
Thanks for reading!
Sample: Sometimes We Ran 2
Chapter 1
One Year, and One Month After the Zombie Apocalypse
There are times during the zombie apocalypse when you must run.
This was one of those times. Me and my road companion, Claire, were now running for our lives from three very hungry Red-Eye zombies. We had been scrounging for supplies in an old store when we came upon a nest of about half a dozen of the dead bastards resting in the back room.
I pulled my gun and dispatched two. Claire took out one with her weapon of choice, an aluminum baseball bat. One good swing, and she caved its head in. Then, three more got caught in the door trying to chase us. Not wanting to be overrun, we took off, with the three monsters right behind us.
Now we were running at full speed down a dusty road with hell bearing down behind us. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder. The three zombies were just keeping up with us, neither falling behind or trying to catch up. Their plan was simple. They would wait for us to get exhausted, then they would pounce on us.
Then they would feed.
The road ahead had no cover. There weren't even any abandoned cars or buildings to duck into. The store we had been checking for supplies was the only structure around, and it was full of undead. There was simply no place to hide. Claire and I were surrounded by deep, foreboding forest. We would have to use the woods to escape. It was the only way out. I just hoped nothing else horrible lurked in the trees.
I looked at Claire. She was running at full speed with her head down, her small legs churning. As if she could read my mind, she looked up for some guidance on what to do next. I pointed toward the dark forest, and possible salvation. We turned in unison at the first gap, and headed into the trees.
Almost immediately, the sunlight dimmed and the temperature cooled. Warmer weather had returned a few weeks before and the afternoon temperatures were starting to climb a bit. The coolness of the forest was almost refreshing. I could smell the decaying leaves beneath our feet. I wished we could stop to enjoy it. I shot a fleeting glance backward to check on our pursers. They had followed us into the woods and were hell-bent on making us a meal.
I could feel myself getting tired. The chase was taking a toll on my middle-aged body. A slight numbing pain began to radiate from my legs and lower back. I sensed that Claire was beginning to fade as well. Even though she was half my age, a lack of food had left us a little weak from poor nutrition. I was tempted to tell her to run on and I'd catch up later. I knew full well that the Red-Eyes would surround me like a wounded deer and then eat me. Claire knew that too; she would never leave me behind.
It was time to fight.
I put on a burst of speed and cut off Claire. I grabbed her hand, and pulled her into a hiding place behind a large group of trees. We leaned back and made ourselves as small as possible.
“What are we doing?” Claire said, between huge gulps of air.
“We're not going to get away. We can't outrun them, and they won't get tired,” I said, trying to control my breathing.
I drew my handgun and peeked around the tree. A light breeze tickled the trees above me, causing the branches to sway and the leaves to make noise. The birds chirped happily, unaware of the drama unfolding below.
The three Red-Eyes stopped a few feet away. They seemed to be confused. They lifted their heads and sniffed the air in unison, trying to find us. Claire and I have found that the Red-Eyes had developed an excellent sense of smell and hearing. If Claire and I were quiet, we might have a chance to take them out.
Couldn't do much about masking our smell. Neither of us had a bath in a while.
I watched from our hiding place as the undead looked around. They slowly got closer to the tree. One of the trio caught a scent and ran off in another direction, disappearing into the woods and leaving the other two behind. The trio was now a pair. The odds were at least a little more in our favor.
One of the two remaining Red-Eyes began to approach the tree. The other one stood a few yards away, beating the bushes. I tensed and waited for my chance.
I turned to Claire. “Get ready to run,” I whispered. She nodded, and got her bat ready.
The nearest Red-Eye continued to sniff the air, and approach our hiding place. It was a young one, a teen-age girl who had been about fifteen or sixteen years old. She was tracking us, but hadn't seen us yet. She got close to the tree and began to walk around it looking down at the ground. It was time to counter-attack.
She looked up, and I put a bullet in her face. She screeched and fell down at my feet, dead. Her dying screams had alerted her companion, a young male in a tattered hospital gown. He hissed in my general direction and came at me. I got off another shot, but it hit him on the shoulder. It's very hard to shoot when you are running.
Claire had taken off at the first shot. She slowed a little so I could catch up to her, and we started to run again at full speed. The little break at the tree had done us good. Although not fully refreshed, we had both caught a second wind. My shot had slowed the last Red-Eye down. We might have a chance.
Claire ducked into the weeds and onto a gravel path in the woods and I followed. We ran a few yards into a power-line easement. The trees and brush had been clear-cut for huge metal towers to carry main transmission lines from some far away power plant. There was no cover.
“Dammit!...Sorry. Now what do we do?” Claire said.
I could hear our undead friend thrashing through the woods coming down the path. Soon it would be face-to-face with us. “Go wide. Stand over on that side. If he goes for you, kneecap him with the bat.” Claire often incapacitated our adversaries by slamming her bat into their knees.
“What about you?” she said, as she put some distance between us.
“I'll put a bullet in his head,” I said, getting ready for battle.
The Red-Eye broke into the clearing and stopped a few feet from our position. He stared at us both and sized up the situation. After a few seconds, he made a decision.
He started going after Claire: my one-hundred-and ten pound, five-foot-nothing, zombie- wrecking machine.
She didn't flinch, but stood her ground with her bat ready. The Red-Eye approached with foam dripping from the sides of his mouth, growling like some kind of mad dog. When he got close enough, he lunged. Claire was too small and too fast. She avoided his attack, and side stepped away from his reaching, greedy hands and flashing jaws. In one fluid motion, she swung down with the bat and made contact with his knees.
The zombie yelped and tumbled to the ground. The blow to the knees had done something to the joint, and he tried to crawl away from his ultimate fate. Now it was my turn.
I walked up, with gun in hand, preparing to put him out his misery. I aimed at the center of his head and started to pull the trigger. The undead monster flipped over on his back and raised his arms in self-defense. I paused at this strange behavior. The Red-Eye was on the ground with its hands in front of its face. I had never seen one behave like this. It knew it was going to die.
It almost acted alive.
“What are you waiting for, John? Kill it!” Claire yelled from behind me.
I pulled the trigger and put a bullet in its head. It slumped down to the gravel with a large hole in its forehead. Dark blood, black as night, began to leak onto the groomed gravel path.
“Why'd you hesitate?” Claire asked, brushing herself off.
I was still a little shocked by the zombie's behavior. It took a few seconds for me to answer. “Don't know.” I managed to say. “It put its hands up like it was begging for its life.”
Claire poked the corpse with her bat. “Yeah...I saw that too. Creepy.”
****************************************
Available for purchase in the Kindle bookstore. $2.99, or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HUGWWQC
Thanks for reading!
One Year, and One Month After the Zombie Apocalypse
There are times during the zombie apocalypse when you must run.
This was one of those times. Me and my road companion, Claire, were now running for our lives from three very hungry Red-Eye zombies. We had been scrounging for supplies in an old store when we came upon a nest of about half a dozen of the dead bastards resting in the back room.
I pulled my gun and dispatched two. Claire took out one with her weapon of choice, an aluminum baseball bat. One good swing, and she caved its head in. Then, three more got caught in the door trying to chase us. Not wanting to be overrun, we took off, with the three monsters right behind us.
Now we were running at full speed down a dusty road with hell bearing down behind us. I shot a quick glance over my shoulder. The three zombies were just keeping up with us, neither falling behind or trying to catch up. Their plan was simple. They would wait for us to get exhausted, then they would pounce on us.
Then they would feed.
The road ahead had no cover. There weren't even any abandoned cars or buildings to duck into. The store we had been checking for supplies was the only structure around, and it was full of undead. There was simply no place to hide. Claire and I were surrounded by deep, foreboding forest. We would have to use the woods to escape. It was the only way out. I just hoped nothing else horrible lurked in the trees.
I looked at Claire. She was running at full speed with her head down, her small legs churning. As if she could read my mind, she looked up for some guidance on what to do next. I pointed toward the dark forest, and possible salvation. We turned in unison at the first gap, and headed into the trees.
Almost immediately, the sunlight dimmed and the temperature cooled. Warmer weather had returned a few weeks before and the afternoon temperatures were starting to climb a bit. The coolness of the forest was almost refreshing. I could smell the decaying leaves beneath our feet. I wished we could stop to enjoy it. I shot a fleeting glance backward to check on our pursers. They had followed us into the woods and were hell-bent on making us a meal.
I could feel myself getting tired. The chase was taking a toll on my middle-aged body. A slight numbing pain began to radiate from my legs and lower back. I sensed that Claire was beginning to fade as well. Even though she was half my age, a lack of food had left us a little weak from poor nutrition. I was tempted to tell her to run on and I'd catch up later. I knew full well that the Red-Eyes would surround me like a wounded deer and then eat me. Claire knew that too; she would never leave me behind.
It was time to fight.
I put on a burst of speed and cut off Claire. I grabbed her hand, and pulled her into a hiding place behind a large group of trees. We leaned back and made ourselves as small as possible.
“What are we doing?” Claire said, between huge gulps of air.
“We're not going to get away. We can't outrun them, and they won't get tired,” I said, trying to control my breathing.
I drew my handgun and peeked around the tree. A light breeze tickled the trees above me, causing the branches to sway and the leaves to make noise. The birds chirped happily, unaware of the drama unfolding below.
The three Red-Eyes stopped a few feet away. They seemed to be confused. They lifted their heads and sniffed the air in unison, trying to find us. Claire and I have found that the Red-Eyes had developed an excellent sense of smell and hearing. If Claire and I were quiet, we might have a chance to take them out.
Couldn't do much about masking our smell. Neither of us had a bath in a while.
I watched from our hiding place as the undead looked around. They slowly got closer to the tree. One of the trio caught a scent and ran off in another direction, disappearing into the woods and leaving the other two behind. The trio was now a pair. The odds were at least a little more in our favor.
One of the two remaining Red-Eyes began to approach the tree. The other one stood a few yards away, beating the bushes. I tensed and waited for my chance.
I turned to Claire. “Get ready to run,” I whispered. She nodded, and got her bat ready.
The nearest Red-Eye continued to sniff the air, and approach our hiding place. It was a young one, a teen-age girl who had been about fifteen or sixteen years old. She was tracking us, but hadn't seen us yet. She got close to the tree and began to walk around it looking down at the ground. It was time to counter-attack.
She looked up, and I put a bullet in her face. She screeched and fell down at my feet, dead. Her dying screams had alerted her companion, a young male in a tattered hospital gown. He hissed in my general direction and came at me. I got off another shot, but it hit him on the shoulder. It's very hard to shoot when you are running.
Claire had taken off at the first shot. She slowed a little so I could catch up to her, and we started to run again at full speed. The little break at the tree had done us good. Although not fully refreshed, we had both caught a second wind. My shot had slowed the last Red-Eye down. We might have a chance.
Claire ducked into the weeds and onto a gravel path in the woods and I followed. We ran a few yards into a power-line easement. The trees and brush had been clear-cut for huge metal towers to carry main transmission lines from some far away power plant. There was no cover.
“Dammit!...Sorry. Now what do we do?” Claire said.
I could hear our undead friend thrashing through the woods coming down the path. Soon it would be face-to-face with us. “Go wide. Stand over on that side. If he goes for you, kneecap him with the bat.” Claire often incapacitated our adversaries by slamming her bat into their knees.
“What about you?” she said, as she put some distance between us.
“I'll put a bullet in his head,” I said, getting ready for battle.
The Red-Eye broke into the clearing and stopped a few feet from our position. He stared at us both and sized up the situation. After a few seconds, he made a decision.
He started going after Claire: my one-hundred-and ten pound, five-foot-nothing, zombie- wrecking machine.
She didn't flinch, but stood her ground with her bat ready. The Red-Eye approached with foam dripping from the sides of his mouth, growling like some kind of mad dog. When he got close enough, he lunged. Claire was too small and too fast. She avoided his attack, and side stepped away from his reaching, greedy hands and flashing jaws. In one fluid motion, she swung down with the bat and made contact with his knees.
The zombie yelped and tumbled to the ground. The blow to the knees had done something to the joint, and he tried to crawl away from his ultimate fate. Now it was my turn.
I walked up, with gun in hand, preparing to put him out his misery. I aimed at the center of his head and started to pull the trigger. The undead monster flipped over on his back and raised his arms in self-defense. I paused at this strange behavior. The Red-Eye was on the ground with its hands in front of its face. I had never seen one behave like this. It knew it was going to die.
It almost acted alive.
“What are you waiting for, John? Kill it!” Claire yelled from behind me.
I pulled the trigger and put a bullet in its head. It slumped down to the gravel with a large hole in its forehead. Dark blood, black as night, began to leak onto the groomed gravel path.
“Why'd you hesitate?” Claire asked, brushing herself off.
I was still a little shocked by the zombie's behavior. It took a few seconds for me to answer. “Don't know.” I managed to say. “It put its hands up like it was begging for its life.”
Claire poked the corpse with her bat. “Yeah...I saw that too. Creepy.”
****************************************
Available for purchase in the Kindle bookstore. $2.99, or read for free with Kindle Unlimited.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HUGWWQC
Thanks for reading!
Sometimes We Ran - 60 copies sold.
Another milestone for Sometimes We Ran 2: Community - 60 copies sold as of today. Thank you, zombie fans!
Speaking of fans, SWR 2 got a five-star review the other day on Amazon. It simply said, "This book is awesome." I'll take it! :)
In other news, my short story bugs just came off Select. It's now available in the NOOK, Kobo, Apple, DriveThruFiction, Scribd, and Inktera bookstores as well as Kindle. In case you can't tell by the title, it's about giant, man-eating bugs destroying civilization. Just the ticket for a light, breezy, summer read.:)
Also, I made a decision about Kindle Unlimited ...I think. I'm going to stay out, and remain in the other bookstores. I'm sure the program is good, but I think I want to make my work available to all zombie fans across the ereader universe.
Then again, I might change my mind. You never know. :)
Speaking of fans, SWR 2 got a five-star review the other day on Amazon. It simply said, "This book is awesome." I'll take it! :)
In other news, my short story bugs just came off Select. It's now available in the NOOK, Kobo, Apple, DriveThruFiction, Scribd, and Inktera bookstores as well as Kindle. In case you can't tell by the title, it's about giant, man-eating bugs destroying civilization. Just the ticket for a light, breezy, summer read.:)
Also, I made a decision about Kindle Unlimited ...I think. I'm going to stay out, and remain in the other bookstores. I'm sure the program is good, but I think I want to make my work available to all zombie fans across the ereader universe.
Then again, I might change my mind. You never know. :)
