Page 51 of His to Burn
Or he was.
Now he was a corpse.
A dead body, still walkingaround.
And trying to take a bite out of me.
A goddamn zombie.
The impossibility of that should have hit harder than it did.
But I was a little distracted by fighting the thing off.
It moved slowly, but still managed to snare me in its grasp, teeth clicking as it tried to bite.
I pivoted and drove my shoulder into its stomach.
It stank, sour with the first hints of decay wafting off it. We slammed into a police cruiser that had met its final resting place on the sidewalk.
I jammed my forearm under its jaw. It struggled, teeth snapping as it tried to claw at me.
It still looked surprisingly human.
Except for those eyes and the inhuman, terrifying moan that came from its throat.
Looking into those eyes, hearing that sound, only confirmed what I already knew.
The world as it existed before was gone.
It was up to me to survive whatever came next.
I braced my boots, let the thing push — letit think it was winning. Then I drove my knee up into its gut.
Felt the squish.
Heard something wet tear.
I took the opening and swept it off its feet. It crashed against the sidewalk so hard that it should have been stunned.
But it kept moving, uncoordinated, awkward…and unrelenting.
I stepped forward and stomped.
My boot crashed into its skull, once, twice, until the bones gave. The head collapsed like a wet paper cup, spilling whatever was left of its brain across the asphalt.
Silence after was almost louder than the fight.
My breath came harsh, steam clouding in the morning chill. My hands trembled and not from fear. It was leftover adrenaline with nowhere left to go.
“Jack?”
Her voice cut through it.
Soft.
Uncertain.
Entirely wrong for whatever this world was now.
