Swarm (Book 3) by South Alex

Author:South, Alex [South, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Zombies
Published: 2016-02-23T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Zack stuck on the last bit of gaffer tape. It was ready. The knife was secured to the metal pole. He picked up his makeshift weapon from a sofa that was now laden with rolls of tape, half empty superglue bottles, a pair of scissors and a couple of knives.

He faced the building’s entrance and began to walk. The groans and thuds growing louder as he drew close. A fresh dose of adrenaline entered his veins. Every sense reached its peak.

He arrived there, having suffered each second of the way. It was so loud. He could feel how close it was; how so little separated them.

Zack lifted up the letter plate and put the knife inside. Then he took hold of the pole with both hands and pushed. It slid forwards slightly and then stopped. Zack could tell it was getting caught on something, and wasn’t getting through. He rammed it forwards again and again, but each time it got stuck.

He pulled it out to take a look. It didn’t make sense. It seemed like it should fit. He put it back and tried again. The same thing happened. No matter the angle, it just wouldn’t go. He peered inside the letter box and saw black bristles inside, some sort of draught protection. Balancing his weapon on his shoulder, he poked the blade through, trying to push the bristles aside.

Eventually he figured it out. The letter plate on the other side wasn’t flat. It had raised sides, making it a kind of shallow trough shape. This meant the knife got caught, instead of passing all the way through.

Zack realised he needed to push something through to raise the letter plate first. He moved to the kitchen, grabbed a fork and came back. He fed the fork in, then, with his other hand, he pushed his weapon through. It came out the other side, this time unhindered. He slid it out. It hit something soft. That was it! He pulled it back and rammed it forwards. Again. Again — putting all of his strength into each stab.

At first everything was clinical, his focus only on doing it well. But as the muscles in his arm found their rhythm, his aggression started to flow. It felt good. It felt powerful. Each strike was his reply to the world, his chance to be the one who attacked.

His arm began to ache, until finally he had to stop. He listened. The zombie was making the same groans, and hitting the door just as it had before.

…

Laura got up. Why didn’t she care like Zack? She asked herself. Maybe she was getting used to this stuff. Maybe she had given up. Or maybe it was this thing in her head; maybe it was sucking all the life out of her. She didn’t know what it was. But she knew, now, that it was wrong. She wasn’t thinking straight. Of course this was important. She had to do something. She walked along the hallway, searching the different rooms, eventually finding Zack downstairs at the front door.

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