The Walker Family Vacation (Episode 1) by McRory Shane

Author:McRory, Shane [McRory, Shane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombies
Published: 2018-01-09T05:00:00+00:00

8

Troy

“Just stay here,” he said, then looking once over his shoulder, seeing the three of them still struggling in the street, he said, “If it … gets crazy, climb back through the window …”

“No,” she said, her eyebrows tenting in the middle, but letting him go reluctantly. Flip-flops back on, wishing he wore lace-ups, he slipped down onto the concrete of the alley and made his way to the street. He winced hearing the man’s screams which grew high and excited. His shirt front had gone completely red. Other voices were apparent now, more people could be heard around the corner and to the left. The fourth man, the one in the striped Polo had got to his hands and knees, and as he got closer, he could see the man’s right hand was wet with blood.

Now he was at the white-painted bannister of the patio, under the overhang of the second floor’s balcony. He could see down the street, see a small frightened crowd gathered a hundred feet away, bunched up along the main thoroughfare where yesterday his family disembarked from the ferry, came up the steps from the port and found the restaurant.

The Rebellion’s patio was empty and tables had been left in a hurry; purses hanging over the backs of chairs, plates of uneaten food, glasses of unfinished beer. Between The Rebellion and the silently aghast crowd he could see two motionless bodies laying in the street.

“What the fuck is happening?” he whispered.

The old man’s scream grew shrill and desperate and now everything he’d intended to do—march down here and kick the two attackers in the face and generally be the hero—seemed dashed by horror. The man with the backpack had sunk his teeth into the old man’s forearm and blood flooded from the wound as he pulled his head away and removed a mouthful of flesh, tugging a long segment of muscle out as well, and it tore the skin all the way to the elbow before it snapped free and wriggled while it was then chomped.

His knees went to rubber, and his stomach fluttered with butterflies. He held a hand to the bannister to steady himself. Then the Spanish omelette that Brit comped him while he chit-chatted at the diner counter leapt out of him and splashed on the sidewalk. He gulped and belched, pressed the back of his fist to his mouth while his mind reeled. The old man succumbed, his screaming waned as the Pakistani man took his throat with his teeth now. The scream was replaced with gurgling and raspy wet breathing.

“Troy!”

His name was screamed, and he looked around to see who’d done it.

“Troy!” again, and this time he looked back, realizing it was of course Brit, her voice high and frightened.

She stood on the dumpster still, screaming at him, and even from this distance he could see her face was red. She waved her arms, yelled, “Behind you!”

As she jumped down and he wanted to yell to her not to do that, someone grabbed his arm.

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