Brutal Planet: A Zombie Novel by Sean P. Murphy

Author:Sean P. Murphy [Murphy, Sean P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2014-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13 ~ Run

May 28th

I didn’t sleep, but awake and sitting in that chair for a couple of hours was not smart. I hurt all over and my right shoulder was killing me. I downed a handful of aspirin and left the barn to get a bit of fresh air and look around the farm, as I didn't know when, if ever, I would be on one again. My God! Yet another fantastic Maine day; perfect for a hike up Mt. Katahdin or around Baxter. Would I ever go on a hike again? Would I ever see the fall foliage again? Why do I keep asking myself stupid questions?

I noticed that the two nice, goofy, docile Labs were alert, frozen, and growling with the hairs on the back of their necks almost straight up. Still in a daze and not being the fastest kitten in the litter, I decided to go to the other side of the barn and see what was bothering them. I was too groggy from lack of sleep and just didn’t think. As soon as I rounded the corner, I ran slap dead into a zombie. Right out of the Three Stooges, we smacked belly and face at the same time, which knocked him on his back and me suddenly very awake. It was a man in an expensive dark blue business suit somewhere in his fifties. I thought of several things at once: 1) holy shit a zombie, 2) I know exactly where my shotgun is and it's not in my arms, and 3) how come he has one bare foot?

I started to trip but caught myself and my speed carried me around the corner of the barn. I turned to face him and reached for the Ruger, but in my rush, I couldn’t get it out of the holster. I couldn’t understand what the problem was. During the quick draw practices, things went well, it was easy. Now I could remove about an inch or so and then it was stuck, something was catching on something and I can’t look down!

The zombie was up faster than I anticipated and I panicked. Okay, not like Jackie Chan fast, but he clearly had a sense of balance and purpose. I kept backing up, tugging at my side arm, backing up and frantically pulling at a weapon, which clearly did not want to leave its holster. He was closing the small distance between us fast, arms outstretched, drooling, and making that bizarre zombie growl/moan. His eyes were wide, bloodshot and dilated. We got so close I could smell his breath. Beyond being in need of some serious tooth brushing, it smelled similar to acetone, like nail polish. On this side of the barn was an attached old wooden shed with no door. I had checked it earlier and found it full of rusted farm stuff. I don't know why, but I backed into the shed and darkness just as the zombie got to me. I reached behind,

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