Zombie Apocalypse Box Set 2

by Jeff DeGordick

  Her eyes widened, realizing what she had done, and she scooped up the rest of the dynamite in her arm, taking the lighter with her, then she ran to the other end of the office as fast as she could. She dove into the corner right as the blast went off.

  The explosion ripped apart the corner of the office, sending in a hailstorm of glass, metal, wood, stones, and other debris to kill anything in its path. The whole office rocked upward momentarily before gravity took its course and the whole damaged corner of the building sank down to the ground, tilting the floor along with it.

  Sarah started to slide toward the wreckage, gaining speed as gravity sucked her out of the office. She was flung outside, her lungs hacking horribly from the layer of dust residing in them. She landed on a huge pile of mangled and murdered zombies, with eviscerated chunks of flesh blown in every direction. The smoky and nauseating smell of cooked meat filled the air, and Sarah fell onto her knees, trying to cope with the shellshock. Her ears rang and she couldn't hear anything. She looked around and the sun suddenly seemed too bright. When she got her bearings, she stumbled for the exit of the quarry, still clutching the remaining five sticks of dynamite and the lighter. Her knife she had lost somewhere in the office, and she wouldn't even realize this fact until later.

  The large group of zombies that had gone around to the other side of the office and tried to get through the door had been unharmed in the blast, though they too were a little shellshocked, and they came out from the side now and chased after her. Some of their legs were wobbly too, the blast doing a number to their nervous systems, but they quickly recovered and set after her.

  Sarah had a decent lead on them, and she knelt down, laying the sticks in front of her and lighting another one. As she hurled it through the air, the zombies were smart enough to know what it meant, and they scattered to the sides as Sarah scooped up her weaponry and kept running for the exit.

  The blast went off and pelted her in the back with furious and jagged stones. She cried out at the pain, but she forced herself to keep going.

  She took out some of the zombies in the blast, but there was still a large congregation of a few dozen coming after her.

  Sarah made her way through the exiting path that led through the tall walls of granite on either side. She spun around and saw the group of zombies approaching. She looked at the remaining four sticks and knew that she could use them all on the undead, but she still likely wouldn't take them all out.

  The zombies slowed down, considering her apprehensively, knowing the power she held in her hand.

  Then Sarah's gaze shifted up to the tall granite surrounding her on both sides. She looked back at the zombies, and it almost seemed like the same realization had flashed in all of their heads at the same time.

  Sarah laid out the dynamite in front of her in a row, pointing the ends of the fuses together. She dragged the flame of the lighter across all of them in quick succession, and they all sparked to life.

  The zombies took off after her, running as fast as they could to close the distance.

  Sarah picked up two of the sticks of dynamite and tossed them at the base of the granite wall to her left, then she quickly scooped up the last two and tossed them to the base of the wall on her right. Then she turned and ran as fast and as hard as she could.

  A massive shockwave shoved her down onto her face as a huge cloud of fire and granite climbed up into the sky. Immediately following the destruction of the blast, the walls surrounding the exit became unstable and started to tear apart due to the structural weakness. Big chunks and sheets of granite rained down in a landslide and crushed the undead that had been chasing her. After the rumbling stopped and the dust settled, any zombies that hadn't been caught up in the collapse were now trapped in the quarry, with no way to scale themselves out of it.

  Sarah rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky as she rested. She coughed uncontrollably for a full two minutes before she was able to compose herself. Dust and stones were caked in her hair, it lined the walls of her nostrils, it climbed into her eyes and coated her tongue. She rolled over and tried to spit on the ground, but her mouth was still dry.

  Eventually she got up to her feet, though she was still disoriented. She stumbled down the road through the woods, slowly gaining back her hearing over time. The intensely vibrant and grating colors seemed to dull as she traveled until the only residual effect from the blasts left in her body were just some muscle tremors and a very bad headache.

  But now she was hurt and completely unarmed.

  She eventually made it to a few stores lining the road, and she found an old oil drum that was half-full with rainwater. She used the last strength she had left to lean over and scoop handfuls of it into her mouth and over her face. When she was a little cleaner and rehydrated, she sauntered over to a curb at the edge of the parking lot by the road and sat down. She buried her face in her hand, trying to ease her pounding head.

  And now that she finally had a moment to rest, she thought about Wayne and she found herself tearing up at the thought of him being gone. She had to go look for him, just as soon as she rested a bit more.

  Sarah raised her head and glanced at the road in each direction.

  Just then, she spotted movement from one end.

  She squinted against the bright sun and tried to make out the dark figure.

  It was dressed in tattered rags, and its skin had the unmistakable hue of ashy gray to it. But the zombie had long and greasy black hair and a face so twistedly sick that her heart stopped.

  She felt urine soak her underwear and run down her leg as the killer stood in front of her, smiling its lunatic grin at her, ready for more.

  10

  Washed Up

  She couldn't believe it. She thought she had killed and buried this ghost of the past for good, but here he stood in front of her. At first she thought this was an aftereffect of the blast scrambling her brain, or maybe it was a heat mirage caused by her dehydration; like he wasn't actually there. But the incredible sense of fear clutching at her heart told her that he was very real.

  She knew that Glass had used him to track her down in the first place—looking for people with her very rare set of genes—so there was no doubt in her mind that Glass had brought him back from the dead, experimenting on him and turning him into a zombie like he had with Kenny.

  The killer's grin widened even more as his eyes bulged from his head. Like Kenny, the killer seemed to retain some of his old personality, but even more so in his case. As he approached, he seemed like his same demented self, but now that he was a zombie, he would be even harder to kill.

  Sarah backed away from him on stiff legs. He followed her down the road, slowly...

  She wasn't prepared for this; she was unarmed, she was tired, but she knew that wouldn't stop him from pursuing her. She turned and fled down the street, and the killer broke off into a jog. He didn't go very fast, but Sarah was exhausted and couldn't outrun him; he was already enjoying playing with her. She knew she needed to find somewhere to give her an edge against him.

  The next building that came up in front of her on the long stretch of road was a small diner. It should at least have had knives in it, so Sarah headed for the door. The killer followed at a casual pace, his crazy countenance never vanishing.

  Sarah ducked through the shattered glass inset in the door and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. It was a small place with a couple rows of booths to her right, and a counter with stool seating on her left. The kitchen was straight ahead of her in the back behind the counter, and there were washrooms in the far right corner of the building.

  She turned and saw the killer's looming shadow stretch across the door, and she turned and ran for the kitchen in the back. A horrid smell wafted inside, and she was met with the putrid residues of decomposed food that had long been eaten by animals.

  The kitchen stretched across the back of the building, with the open pass looking toward the cash registers and the counter
in the front. The floor was sticky all over, and Sarah looked around, trying to find something sharp.

  The kitchen was mostly empty, but she found an old knife roll tucked away between a couple of stock pots on a shelf underneath a counter. She pulled it out and unfurled it on the counter. As she glanced through the pass, she saw the killer enter the diner.

  She turned back to the knife roll and pulled out the chef's knife, which seemed to be the largest and sharpest in the set. Sarah spun around and held the knife out in front of her, staring at the open doorway to the kitchen and waiting for the killer to walk around the corner.

  But he never did.

  Sarah felt that same old fear rise up in her as she tried to figure out where he was. There was the entrance to the kitchen she had come in through from the front, there was the open pass where orders were placed for waitresses to pick up, and there was a closed door behind her leading outside.

  Silence hung heavy in the diner.

  And then there was a faint squeaking sound. It was coming from behind her.

  She wheeled around to the door, holding the knife up, and waiting for the killer to burst through. But the doorknob didn't even jiggle, let alone twist and open.

  The atmosphere was absolutely silent, and the only thing that seemed to be around her was the offensive smell.

  Sarah backed up a little, turning around and peering back at the entrance to the kitchen from the front. She slowly crept toward it, brandishing the knife. She knew he was hiding around one corner or another, waiting for her to come out to attack her.

  She mustered the courage she needed and sprang out around the corner, wheeling in both directions and ready to stab.

  But he wasn't there.

  She wandered out into the front of the diner as the peaceful afternoon slowly rolled by outside and fluffy bits of dust wafted through the air, highlighted by the rays of sunlight coming in through the windows.

  The killer seemed to be gone, and as Sarah searched around for him, she started to doubt herself. Had she really seen him? Or was he actually just a figment of her imagination from her sun-stroked mind?

  There was a noise around the corner.

  Walking cautiously, she rounded the corner and stalked past the booths. The only thing around in this direction was the door leading to the male and female restrooms. She swept around near the front windows of the diner, keeping her distance from the door as she walked in front of it.

  She didn't want to go inside. Being trapped in an extremely claustrophobic and dead-end space was a terrible idea, but now that she stood before the door and heard absolutely nothing, she once again started to doubt her own senses. She approached the door, pointing the knife in front of her. She pressed her ear to the door and listened.

  Then, like Norman Bates's mother marching out of her bedroom with a knife raised high above her head in Psycho, the killer strode out of the kitchen with a meat cleaver. His face was more excited and demented than ever as he silently walked up behind her.

  Sarah turned around as he swung the cleaver. The blade sliced off a very thin layer from the edge of her ear, and she launched herself backward and stumbled into the seat of one of the booths, not even knowing that he was there at all and so shocked that she hadn't noticed the injury.

  The killer attacked her, throwing his body on hers and swinging the cleaver repeatedly. She rolled her head out of the way as the sharp and heavy blade dug through the vinyl seat and into the stuffing, causing a little puffy white cloud to burst out of it.

  Sarah defensively swung the chef's knife into the side of his shoulder. But the blade didn't stab into it like she thought it would; the tip only sank in by an inch, and it almost felt like she was met with a brick wall after that.

  Confusion, shock and panic came over her as the killer raised his arm and brutally swung the meat cleaver at her face again. Sarah rolled herself off the seat and landed underneath the table, dodging the blow. The killer got down onto his hands and knees and started crawling for her in the trapped space, swinging the blade left and right. She frantically held her legs up in front of her as he sliced the cleaver across the side of her calf on the back swing.

  She screamed in pain and kicked him in the face. His head rocked back and she kicked him again, harder this time. It was enough to knock him flat onto his ass, and Sarah clawed her way back up onto the seat and hopped over the backing into the next booth.

  The gash he sliced along her leg was only superficial and didn't cut across any major veins or arteries, but the pain stung her badly, and the fear was even worse.

  He began giggling as he chased her across the front of the diner. She tried to escape through the front door, but as she ducked under the handlebar stretching across the middle of the broken glass inset, he grabbed her by the ankle and she hit the pavement face-first outside. She scrunched her nose up in pain as he dragged her back into the diner across the broken glass. She rolled over onto her back just as the meat cleaver came down again and splintered the tile. He tried to pull it back out, but it was wedged in the floor really well. He pulled her up to her feet, far stronger than she remembered, as she was hoisted up like a ragdoll.

  She stabbed him in the head, but the knife just seemed to bounce off. She looked at him in horror, not understanding what was happening. Her first reaction was that he must have had the same metal plates installed in his head that Kenny did, but she didn't see any scarring around his skull like he'd had. This seemed to be something different entirely.

  He flung her toward the counter and she tripped over the stools, almost doing a full flip over one of them before crashing to the ground. One of the stools fell on top of her chest and the killer splayed himself out on top of it. It knocked the wind out of her and she struggled under his weight, trying to get out. But he kept the stool high on her chest as he slowly crawled over it, his demented eyes staring into hers. He inched up closer to her, bringing his face to hers until they were within kissing distance. The killer opened his mouth and putrid breath washed across her face. He stuck out his tongue and licked her cheek, causing her whole body to cringe violently. Then as he looked down at her, his eyes anticipating, he held out his tongue and slowly wiggled it through the air, like it was worming its way toward her mouth.

  Sarah managed to get one of her legs out from under the stool and she pushed off of it and shoved him off. When he fell to the ground, she got up and ran for the meat cleaver. She kicked the handle in midstride, knowing she would have to use as much force as possible to pry it up, and it popped out of the floor and struck the wall high up before clattering back onto the floor. She picked it up and swung around just as he was grabbing at her again. She sank the blade into the crook of his neck, but it only went in half an inch, and it didn't seem to damage his clavicle at all. The killer just smiled at her as she wrenched out the blade and swung it into his ribs. She was met with the same effect: the blade sank a little, but not much.

  She didn't know what unholy things had been done to him, but if he seemed resilient the last time they met, now he was virtually indestructible.

  The killer knocked the cleaver out of her hand and it flew into a window and cracked it. He enjoyed playing with her, and he wanted to have fun before killing her. He tossed her over the counter and she landed behind the cash registers with a loud thud. It felt like her hip had been cracked and deep pain ran through her legs all the way to the tips of her toes. She tried getting up to her feet, tried getting away from him as he walked around the counter and came at her from the side. She pulled herself up and climbed into the pass, falling over a derelict stove on the kitchen-side and hitting the ground below. The pain in her hip was intense, but she tried to ignore it as much as she could and keep moving.

  As the killer calmly walked into the kitchen behind her, Sarah grabbed a big stockpot and swung it at him. It was very heavy and hard to handle, but the momentum and force of it struck the killer in the head and caused him to stumble back out of the kitchen. He hit the wall
and toppled to the floor. Sarah stumbled out after him, dragging the stockpot with her. She stood over him and hoisted it up, letting gravity take its weight and crush it down onto his head. A dense clunk sound rang out in the diner and Sarah kept the large pot pressed to his face. She maneuvered one of her feet inside and stomped down on it, trying to crush his head.

  But it didn't seem to do anything to him, and his fingers shot out and wrapped around her ankle, pulling her weight out from under her and causing her to fall to the floor.

  The killer knocked the stockpot away as she tried to crawl away from him. She was completely exasperated and had no idea what to do; she couldn't run, and now she couldn't even fight. If she had a gun, that may have been one thing, but all she had were a couple of knives that seemed to be useless against him. It was almost like his skin was like body armor or something—no doubt part of Glass's terrifying experiments.

  But Sarah thought quickly, needing to come up with a solution, even if it was only a temporary one. She crawled for the chef's knife on the floor. His skin seemed strong and his bones seemed strong, but if she could just stab him in a weak part of his body where there wasn't a lot of either...

  She snatched up the knife in the front of the diner again, and she looked around for a good surface. She retreated back to the booths as the killer got up to his feet and sauntered after her. She slid herself into the first booth at the end of one row, hoisting herself up on one of the seats and facing the killer. He calmly walked around to the side and reached for her as she climbed backward over the edge of the booth and into the next one. His smile widened, and he was happy to play her game, crawling over the booths for her instead of going around. She moved nice and slowly, and so did he, expanding when she contracted.

  Sarah climbed over another booth and then she lowered herself down behind the opposite side of the table and waited for him as he crawled toward her like a lizard. He slunk over the backing and put his hand down on the seat, then he moved himself forward and put his other hand on the table in front of her.