Colder than Hell by Anthony Neil Smith

Author:Anthony Neil Smith [Smith, Anthony Neil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Supernatural Thriller, Fiction
Published: 2013-01-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

The ax fell straight to the ground, George was screaming, and the cop’s gun fired. The bullet hit the guitar instead of the player, took a chunk out of the back of it. Then a second shot, not aimed at the bass player this time.

Matt raced to his ax, picked it up, and flinched when he heard the shot. But he wasn’t the target, either. Nearly stunned the piss out of him. The snow near George puffed and cratered. The killer stopped howling and spun. He ignored Matt and went for the cop. Knocked the gun away like it was nothing and squeezed the cop’s neck like it was made of clay.

It gave Matt a chance to get away, but he was mesmerized. The cop didn’t even try to fight back. His eyes rolled back, but his hands stayed at his sides. How was it possible? What kept this thing from killing except by accident?

The bass player was shivering, babbling, virtually frozen in place as he watched the killer choke the life out of the cop. Matt couldn’t let it happen. He got a grip on his ax and swung it back, gave it a heave, and swung toward George’s neck. But his left foot hit a deep patch of snow, twisted, and threw him off. The side of the ax head slammed into George’s hip, enough to make him drop the barely there cop and turn toward his attacker with a snarl.

Matt gave the ax a spin, got his footing, and felt his energy returning. “Come on, man, I’ve taken down enough of you to know there’s nothing special in that skull of yours.”

Steady, now, steady. Whichever way he came, Matt would have him. It was over. George must’ve seen it, too. He shook his head and took off, disappearing into the snow and the glow of headlights. Matt started after him, but his ankle was tender, and he seethed after a couple of steps, hopped in place, and knew he’d have to let it heal up before he could go after the bastard.

He hobbled back to the cop, who was now sitting up, head down, hugging himself. Matt laid his hand on the man’s shoulder. “How do you feel?”

“What just happened? What have I done?”

Matt sighed. “I was hoping you would tell me.”

He helped the cop stand, and they both walked over to the bass player, who could’ve been mistaken for a wax statue except for the heaving clouds of breath he pushed out every few seconds. He hugged his bass like it was a teddy bear.

Matt asked him, “You okay in there? You need anything?”

He blinked fast. “Not anymore. It tried. It tried so hard, but I wouldn’t let it take me.”

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What about…?” The kid nodded toward his band, still going at it as if they were playing an arena, the crowd still taking it in before, one at a time, they turned and headed off in different directions, soon replaced by new zombies.

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