Battlefield Z (Book 6): Bluegrass Zombie by Chris Lowry

Author:Chris Lowry [Lowry, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Zombie Apocalypse
Published: 2017-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

And then the giant showed up.

It's not often you get the chance to say that in real life. I wouldn't have suspected an NFL player to survive the zombie plague, but for the life of me I couldn't fathom why I thought that.

Of course some would survive.

They are extraordinary athletes, and with a couple of thousands of them, it would only make sense.

This guy looked like a sumo wrestler met a mack truck and they made a baby. A big giant bald headed baby glaring at me with pig eyes and what I hoped was oil that made his muscles shine.

"You're dead," he predicted.

I almost nodded.

He was probably right. I'm not a large man, and trekking half way across the country scavenging for food made me wiry. All muscle, sure, but there wasn't much of it, as far as raw brute strength.

The giant on the other hand looked well fed.

Like he ate whole turkeys every day.

And washed them down with protein shakes.

Size isn't everything.

At least that's what we tell the ladies.

Big meant he was going to be slow. Which I was not.

Big meant he would have more weight to carry and tire easy.

I was fast on my feet and a long distance runner to boot.

My mind raced. It was going to be an Ali Frazier fight, the old Rope a Dope. I'd wear him out by staying out of reach, and when he got tired, move in and finish him, just like the man suggested to Johnny at the all karate valley championship.

Then he moved.

Like a dancer, fast and lithe and his dad must have really been a Mack truck because he was going as fast as one.

I barely had a chance to dodge out of his grip and then it was on.

He was too big, too fast and looked too strong.

I was too tired, too beat and too broken to win.

This wasn’t going to be fair at all.

I kept backing up, all the while thinking of Ali and Foreman. Rope a dope would work great on this massive stack of humanity, but I wasn’t sure I could handle a hit.

Then he did.

And I couldn’t.

It was a glancing blow across the scarred side of my head and sent me reeling.

Then his speed kicked in and he landed one on my chin.

It would have been better it knocked me cold.

But all it did was hurt.

And bleed.

He grabbed me in a bear hug and squeezed. Ribs cracked.

My arms were pinned but my hands were free. I grabbed for his nuts and squeezed.

He giggled in my face and laughed.

“Ain’t that kind of date,” his breath smelled like coffee.

He planted his forehead into my nose, once, twice and stars exploded in my head.

Then he dropped me, straddled my chest and started pounding with massive ham sized fists. I saw two, a third, then no more.

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