by Al K. Line
At least she thought so, but something inside Ven snapped and a fury took hold of her she didn't know the human mind was capable of.
Any sense of self left her as her body took over in a fight for survival that went back to the beginnings of the human race. No time for thought or conscious action, or even to say thanks to Bos Bos. Now was the time for defense of the young, and those that would dare to attack were faced with something as full of inhuman energy and rage as they were themselves.
Ven's body took over, she slashed out and took the scalp of a young girl who normally made tea and caried out random admin duties for the supervisors. Unkempt matted blond hair and skin went flying across the room as Ven followed up with a swipe back in the opposite direction that sliced though the throat. A gloopy suction barely registered as the esophagus of the girl was sliced clean open before she collapsed to the floor. The brave Lab dove for the sliced off scalp, shaking it violently as if teaching it a final lesson not to mess with him and Ven.
Ven's leg went out from under her as a tattered hand tried to lift her off her feet. She slashed down fast, taking off the arm a little below the elbow, the hand still gripping as she smacked it with the sword handle to remove it. She stabbed down hard, straight through the heart, feeling the floor jar against the point of the blade as it went right through the body of the man.
More were after her in an instant. As soon as one attack was dealt with there were others to take their place.
Never lock a zombie in a cupboard. What the hell was Joe thinking?
They came from all directions and they would never stop unless they were dealt a death blow. Bos Bos was steadfast by her side, not once did he retreat a single step, or even think about food. He barked warnings where he could, and fought with as much ferocity as he could muster. He became more and more frenzied the more they were attacked. As he fought he fed off Ven's adrenaline and his big body was boosted to the max, natural wild killer instincts helping him become a dog he never thought he could be. Blood-lust took over, he too became something primal.
Fear, frustration, and responsibility combined to send Ven's body into action at a speed and ferocity that was draining her quickly. He pulse raced, adrenaline surged, and the motherly instinct gave her a strength she never thought possible. She slashed around wildly, increasingly erratically, the others giving her space, realizing they were almost as likely to become a victim as the infected were. She was in a rage, a savage ferocity lashed out at anything that dared come near her. Her blood pounded in her ears, fear gone as the blood-lust consumed her.
Ven slashed, stabbed, and screamed at her opponents as they ran at her time and time again. She took them down with cries of savagery as her hair clung to her face, drenched in sweat and getting covered in the blood of once innocent warehouse workers.
A space began to form around her and Bos Bos as the numbers dwindled. They were a fighting pair that worked better and better together the more they were attacked. Getting in tune with each other, the dog helping distract the infected, tearing at their hands and legs, ripping flesh then spitting it out. He wanted nothing from these creatures, not even sustenance.
A wide arc of bodies lay mutilated, limbs slashed, faces diced, body parts strewn perilously on the floor.
Whenever an opening became apparent the zombies ran forward flailing, trying to get to her and her baby. Each time they came for her and Tomas she swung wildly, coming into contact often, sometimes missing and the momentum sending her almost sprawling to the floor before she righted herself and swung again with wild abandon.
Kyle had ditched his gun in favor of his mace. It stopped the infected more effectively — it didn't run out at inopportune moments. It sent brain munchers flying away from him as the flanged head bit into soft face flesh and tore ears off, pulverized noses, and ripped to shreds anything it came into contact with. He swung over and over again, smashing faces until they looked like jelly, smacking into limbs and torsos, splintering bones. Having to repeatedly reign down blows on those knocked to the floor as they grabbed wildly at his legs and tried to bite through the protective clothing he wore. They simply would not stop until their limbs were broken, repeatedly mangled and unable to work properly, or they were dealt a crunching death blow.
Ven could hear the grating damage as those pulverized from the blows tried to use their arms. Some lolling ineffectively as they tried to move them, others crunching bone on bone as they attempted to grab, but tendons and ligaments were severed or crushed, making them ineffectual.
Joe was the only one still using a pistol, but soon the shots ceased as firing became too difficult as there was no space between him and the infected. It was hand to hand combat for them all, the sick stench of the infecteds' breath making it hard not to double over and puke as they fought on with their energy waning and their limbs tiring fast from repeated exertion.
Joe fought fast and furiously. With a knife held professionally in each hand he expertly dealt with his attackers, never letting them get the better of him, but coming dangerously close to getting bitten as they lunged for his throat with fury. He swatted their arms with the knives, slicing deep into bone, cutting off fingers and gouging out eyes with jerky stabs designed to disorientate them. He fought like a street fighter: dirty, mean, and very deadly.
Two came for him as Ven took a breath between attackers. Joe punched out hard, the knife in his left hand going deep into an eye socket. With his right he sliced across the throat of a man in his sixties, his head rolling back as blood spouted, then slowed to an ooze. Tendons cut, he lolled backwards and finally fell over dead. Joe stabbed the side of the first attacker, aiming for liver, then pulled the knife out of his eye and pushed it repeatedly into its throat until it stopped moving. The body slumped to the floor as Joe turned and leapt to face the next group of attackers before they had a chance to co-ordinate any kind of attack. He was a whirling dervish of razor sharp steel — slashing and gouging repeatedly in as manic a fashion as the infected. The difference being he had total bodily control with coiled reflexes that were lightning fast.
There was no time for her to take note of how anyone else was faring, from nowhere she was set upon by a single zombie that was absolutely huge. Not fat but bulging full of training and steroid induced muscle, tanned dark. One of the bodyguards for the more select clientele, he was in need of serious sustenance after weeks locked inside a room without food. Muscle was slowly reducing due to lack of protein. Ven shuddered to think what this beast had looked like when he had a good diet while still alive.
He stormed into Ven, arms grabbing her. She truly felt that this might be the end. Her arms were pinned. The sword clattered to the floor.
Shit, this is it.
The huge man tore at her neck with his teeth, shaking the collar, ripping, delving, hunting for the jugular vein, trying to find that sweet liquid. Ven reached to her utility belt, grabbed a short knife and panic-stricken she plunged it into the rabid beast anywhere she could. Her arms pinned, she hit him repeatedly in the leg, strong thigh muscles like tree trunks almost stopping the blade from entering. She kept on jabbing, more and more stressed, as the monster kept plunging for her neck, his arms scrabbling at her back, trying to grab Tomas and release him from his protective cocoon.
Don't stop, keep stabbing. You will hit him somewhere lethal. Go for the femoral. It's the death dealer.
Stab, stab, stab.
Bos Bos leapt at the attacker, right up onto his back, biting down hard and often, ripping at strands of knotted muscle making up the dense neck, feeling it give way and bone scraping against his teeth. He bit again, shaking hard at the neck as if it were his favorite rubber toy. He found a thick coil, like rope, and pulled with all his might, front paws resting on the wide back of the man, giving Bos Bos purchase.
The head went limp just as Ven felt the knife go into a soft spot on the leg — her reward a wetness on her hand. She saw the thick trickle coming out of his trousers, pooling at his foot and he fe
ll away, crashing to the floor in front of her, life-force spent. Bos Bos stood on the felled assailant's back, howling triumphantly, giving one last tear at the neck just to show he was The Boss.
Ven gasped, her arms felt like lead as she grabbed the sword and sheathed the knife. She spread her legs slightly, bending at the knees, sword raised at the ready. A quick look at the growing carnage she saw Al, beset by the man sporting nothing but a skirt, he had a savagery that was different to the others. He was much more co-ordinated, wearing a look of sick cunning as if he knew something nobody else did.
Nopad went down again under three attackers, limbs flying as he repeatedly tried to escape. She saw two go limp as he lashed out, dealing death with his knife, stabbing at their faces until there was nothing but pulp left, eyes gone, lips sliced off, hair, ears and skin hanging on by threads.
Kyle was swinging violently at a small group of infected as they reached out, trying to grab him only to be pummeled with the mace. She could hear the crack of bones in their hands and arms over the howling of rage as they were denied their meal. He had become proficient with his weapon. Slowly the gap widened between him and the infected, primal screams echoing at the frustration of being unable to close in on him. Kyle swung hard, continually moving forward towards individuals to crack them over the head, dull thuds signaling contact. Finally an end to their hunger for good.
Ven swung at a fast approaching woman, dark curly hair greasy and matted with blood from the flying gore. The woman let out a blood-curdling howl as she launched herself at Ven — the sword missed her head by a fraction of an inch. She was on Ven, mottled bony arms grabbing for her face, almost blinding her as she scratched at her eyes with shards of long nails, still painted red. Ven kneed her savagely, the ferocity lessened for an instant, and she jumped back, sword pointed straight out as the madwoman ran at her again. With zero thought about her own safety the howling woman ran straight at the point; Ven took the weight and staggered, the blade going right through as the woman slowly slumped right up close to her face. With a massive effort she pulled back hard, making distance and getting the gore smeared weapon back under control. Bos Bos barked at her, just because he could really, and he was kind of getting fed up with it all.
Al was dealing with some of the very last infected — there were just a handful to go. As he fought with the man in the skirt Ven could see Kyle take an almighty downward swing at a man on the floor, the mace smashed into the lower portion of his face, leaving nothing but a bloody mess behind. Teeth and a gold earring tinkled delicately as they hit the floor, a hypnotic sound amid the madness.
Kyle wiped the sweat and zombie matter from his face, looking exhausted and sick to his stomach. You just couldn't get used to this kind of thing in a few weeks. One minute computer nerd — the next exposed to the inner workings of the human body, in way too literal a sense. It wasn't something you could shrug off and not let bother you.
Ven slumped to the ground — just for a second — and patted Bos Bos on the head. "Good boy Bos Bos, you were very brave. I'm very proud of you."
Wag, wag.
Bos Bos was feeling exhausted too, stress overload was not good for his stomach. It growled angrily from the cocktail of hormones his body had produced to allow him to fight so ferociously. Oh how he longed for lazy days back in the office, pilfering sandwiches and curling up on his fluffy bed.
Joe let out a crazed roar. Ven's head snapped to attention and she saw him smash a skinny man over his bent knee like a twig. You could hear the crunch as vertebrae splintered and synovial fluid leaked out of the ruptures in his skin. The body went limp, spinal cord of the once mild mannered accountant severed, eyes puffed up and black, neck distorted grossly under the pounding of bulging veins and arteries.
Joe dropped the broken thing to the floor, stabbing into its eyes, a battle frenzy making him unaware that the creature moved no more.
Joe looked like something from hell. His short hair was coated thick with blood and gobbets of flesh from his enemy. Ven shuddered. His clothes were soaked, blood already drying in the cool air, steam rising from him as his core temperature tried to cool down. His hands were black with the evidence of battle, his clothing tattered in places and his eyes were bloodshot and wild. The rush of warfare had taken hold of him and he looked around manically for his next fight.
Ven got to her feet gingerly, aching everywhere it was possible to ache, realizing suddenly just what state she must be in if Joe looked like that. Wide-eyed she accounted for Kyle and Al, looked about to ensure they were no longer under threat. Bodies lay in all directions, in all manner of positions and with various bits missing.
Kyle was staring around, checking for attackers, his arms limp by his sides, all strength gone. He wouldn't be able to carry on for much longer, even if his life depended on it. His long hair was stuck to his face, sweat, blood and lots of zombie goop doing a good job of filling any available crevice. His muscles bulged under his slim and now taught frame. How he had changed in such a short period of time.
He panted heavily, dark eyes darting as he visibly relaxed when he saw there were few of the deranged creatures left and was sure that Tomas and Ven were unharmed.
Three shots rang out as Joe dispatched the remaining damaged creatures, then it was eerily silent — for a heartbeat. Tomas resumed his manic screaming; he needed someplace warm, dark and quiet to connect with his mom again.
Al was still engaged with the man in the skirt. He seemed absolutely tireless. Every time Al pushed him away, or got a good punch in, the man was back and at him in an instant.
Man? Zombie? What was he?
Ven saw the man/zombie grin wickedly, sores cracking at the corners of his mouth. Just as he ran at Al for the umpteenth time he slid deftly along the floor. Sliding past he stabbed Al in the calf with a knife picked up from who knew where. Al grabbed his leg, crashing over, slipping in gore that now covered every part of the floor plus a lot of the walls. Like a flash the manic man was on Al's chest, trying to stab him anywhere he could. Al batted him viciously until he flew to the side, skirt tearing off, a bitter foulness smearing Al. The now naked maniac lunged out wildly for the last time, a lucky side-stab hitting Al in the ear with the knife, the tip of the blade entering.
Al roared and grabbed at the piercing pain, trying to right himself so he could finish off the naked gore and feces smeared attacker.
Like a cat he was on his feet, crouched ready to pounce, but then he seemed to think better of it.
"Fuck you, you big lump, and fuck the lot of you. Think you are better than them?" he said, waving at the piles of mangled corpses. "You aren't. You starved them and locked them up and treated them worse than animals. And to think I wanted to be a part of the human race again. Ugh." He pointed an accusing finger at Ven. "And you... I'll be back for you. For you, and your sweet little baby. Bitch."
Alfred was gone, out the door; away before they had time to react and get after him.
Ven stared after him. Why her? Why was she singled out? She hadn't locked the zombies in the room.
"Damn, you guys know how to fight," said Joe admiringly. "I don't know if I have ever seen anything like it. What you don't have in terms of skill you sure make up for with enthusiasm."
"Yeah, we kind of have a thing about zombies," said Kyle breathlessly, his chest pounding like his heart was going to explode. He was soaked in sweat and wet things he didn't want to think about. He tried to run fingers though his hair, his hand caught in the many knots, coming away covered in small gray lumps of brain and fatty pieces of skin. "Ugh, gross!"
"You okay," Ven asked him. "You look like you're about to collapse."
"I'm alright. What about you? You look worse than I feel. And the little guy, we have to get out of here. Poor sod's going to do himself a mischief screaming like that."
Tomas was still howling. It broke Kyle's heart to hear his son so upset.
This must never happen again. Babies should never have to be put in such d
anger. And god knows what trauma it is causing.
Kyle lifted the covers from Tomas' head to take a look at the little guy. His eyes were bulging slightly, veins pulsing just proud of the skin. His neck was ever so slightly puffed up. From the crying and the screaming? Or because he had been partly infected with the botnet and proximity to the truly infected brought the effects to the fore?
Kyle said nothing of this, instead he quietly whispered sweet baby noises to try to soothe his son. His son? He could still hardly believe it was true.
Then Ven remembered Nopad. She had seen him go down but thought he was alright. Joe was over by his side as Kyle and Ven fussed over Tomas. Al was standing still, shaking his head, banging his ear.
Ven let the sword hang limply by her side, her grip now more a locked claw than a conscious act. She looked around at the once clinically clean space in wonder at their survival.
They gathered around Nopad. He wasn't getting up.
The carnage surrounding the fallen Nopad was horrifying, worse than anything so far as it was one of their own. Everything was covered in blood, Nopad's arm was ripped to bits, chunks missing, oozing thick blood as it tried to coagulate. His forearm was twisted into a totally unnatural position, obviously irreparably shattered at the elbow. A large bite of his face had taken out his cheek entirely. His nose had the end missing and his upper lip was gone, exposing a sick grimace of pain as his eyes began to roll back into his head. His leg was twisted around behind him and to the side, the knee shattered, the ankle broken.
He let out a slow moan as his heart pumped fast, trying to cope with the injuries. What must have been a weak spot where the bite had nearly gone through his carotid artery finally popped — an eight foot high fountain of adrenaline filled blood soaked the entire area, covering Ven and Joe in Nopad's life force.
"Why did they call him Nopad?" asked Ven, putting her hand over his eyes, respectfully shutting the lids for the last time.
