Lie Zombie Lie (I Zombie) by Jack Wallen

Author:Jack Wallen [Wallen, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-07-24T04:00:00+00:00

*

The intersection of Columbia and First was close. The first response team was assembled and directly underneath the location of the zombie army within minutes. Each team member was armed with weapons of silent destruction. The goal was to not bring any unnecessary attention to the location – especially attention of the undead kind. So swords, bats, pikes, and bows were the order of the day.

“Ready to wipe clean the streets of the undead?”

“Ready!” The soldiers barked.

“I count to three, this door opens, you unleash bitter Hell upon these sons a bitches!”

A nervous energy spread through the Zombie Response Team members. They gripped their bats, knocked their arrows, some whispered prayers to one God or another.

“One.”

The energy rose.

“Two.”

Swift, shallow breathing overtook the men.

“Three.”

Josh flung the door open, the hall was bathed in the near-blinding, white light of the sun. Through the brilliant rays of sunlight, the wavering, shadowy forms of the undead could be seen. The Josh-led Zombie Response Team spilled out of the Underground City and immediately spread out. The team was outnumbered by at least ten to one, odds the men were used to. But the ZRT were trained assassins of the undead, odds meant nothing.

Without order or thought, the men with the bows scrambled to higher ground, taking perch on roofs and fire escapes. Arrows flew through the air, embedding themselves into the rotted flesh of the undead.

Josh ran from the door, metal pike in hand, heading full steam towards a solo moaner. The point of his pike struck home and impaled the moaner in the neck. The tip of the pike pierced the moaners spine and the beast dropped to its knees. With a swift kick, the moaner slid backwards off the metal pole. Sticky, brown blood slopped and splashed. The leader of the ZRT team took no time to celebrate his kill and set off to strike another blow for human kind.

It was impossible to tell how many of the undead had been sent to their final grave, but the street was still thick with melee.

“Buckshot! Watch out!”

A call from one of the bowman echoed off the walls of the nearby buildings. Buckshot was one of the senior members of the ZRT. In typical fashion, Buckshot was taking on two moaners at once, and was unaware of a third party wanting to join in on the dance. Buckshot cracked his bat down hard upon one of the first two zombies, sending its brain matter flying in all directions. The gore splattered Buckshot’s face shield, obstructing his view. The second zombie’s arms flailed out in the air-space between itself and Buckshot. The bat swung hard and connected with the zombie’s right elbow. The sound of the bone crushing would have sent chills down through the spine of even the hardest of asses. Fortunately, everyone else was far too busy crushing skulls and piercing brains to notice.

The now, one-armed zombie lunged forward, taking Buckshot by surprise. The weight of the undead bastard forced the fighter backwards, into the powerful arms of the zombie sneaking up from behind.

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