by Daniel White
From the way the group had thinned, he wondered if Bart were still alive and drawing some away from him once again. It really didn’t matter. One fell to a masterful side thrust kick. At the same time he plunged the pole into the eye socket of another. Swinging back to a solid base stance, he threw a roundhouse kick that took two more to the ground. Eric intentionally backed himself closer to the wall so that he knew no one was coming behind him. Two or three came at a time and he took them out as they came. Slowly more began to close in, but he figured he would fight them off.
A series of kicks here or a mastered thrust of the steel pole there, he took out more zombies than he could count. He could even possibly see the end of the mass approaching. Unfortunately he could also see the end approaching; his end. Where minutes ago he’d had feet to work with all around; now they had closed the gap to only one foot. From there it changed to inches until he was pressed against the wall so heavily that he no longer could tell how many were coming for him.
He knew he was going to die. But he wouldn’t be able to call himself a fighter if he went down without a fight. Even if these monsters had a tiny brain cell left, that cell would remember this one guy who killed so damn many before falling at last. First it was a punch that took skin and bits of shirt with it. Then a claw to his face lit up pain receptors enough that he knew for a fact he was still alive at that moment. It was only a matter of time. For every one zombie he took down he received another severe punch, kick, bite, or claw. As a last ditch effort he fell and began striking at legs and knees and anything else that might cause damage.
Then he got the shock of his nearly sapped life. A gunshot rang out so loud that he thought something had destroyed his eardrum. It sounded oddly like a shotgun, but he couldn’t be certain. At last he heard it again, then again. Over and over the weapon pumped and shot loudly. Eric wasn’t getting attacked anymore, so he just dropped and lay next to the wall. He wasn’t sure what exactly he should expect, but whatever it was, he was in no condition to fight. At least he could say he went down with a hell of a fight no matter what.
When the firing stopped he initially thought he was actually dead on some level.
“Are you just going to lay there?” a familiar voice asked. He couldn’t quite place it but it continued in deep baritone, “Why don’t you take one of these?” Eric got to his knees and then leaned against the wall as he stood up, completely spent from the fight. He looked up finally, into the cold eyes of a man he had spoken to right here in this building a day before.
Eric stared at him, “You?” The man stared right back and tossed a sawed off shotgun in his direction. “You’re a hell of a fighter, but if you plan to stay alive you’ll need at least one of these. I’m Captain Sage Thorn. I’ll see you again Bayne.”
It wasn’t often he was left speechless but when Captain Sage left him and walked out Eric could think of nothing to say. This man, who he would have thought would have been at the center of the people at fault for this whole mess, had just saved his life.
Eric limped and began to wonder how he had managed such a good showing during the fight. His leg hurt worse now than it had before he left the warehouse. Every step pulsed with agony. It was time to get back to the warehouse, gather some ammo and make the warehouse into the base of operations he would need between now and the time they finally got him too. On the way through the lobby he heard a faint whining just before he walked through the door. Turning he saw a dog limping, even worse than he was. That damned Bart had survived after all. It actually brought a smile to Eric’s face for a second. Together they walked towards the truck and Eric wondered if Bart was already a zombie to have lived through all that he had gone through.
Whatever the next little time held for Eric and Bart, and whoever else was left alive, two things were clear. This was no simple virus outbreak anymore, it was a war. And it wasn’t just a war; it would be a fight to the death.
Copyright © 2012 Daniel White
Copyright © 2012 Cover Design by Daniel White
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental.
The material in the eBook contains sexually explicit content and is intended for a mature audience only. All persons portrayed in this eBook are 18 years of age or older.
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