Rabid Madness by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-08-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Ricky Turner was wiping something that could be blood or brain meat from his blouse, and pieces of the same substance that had taken up a clotted residence on his chin. It repulsed him to touch it and made him cringe as it skimmed off his skin like week-old cooking oil. He was dropping the empty magazine of his Smith 9mm into his palm and fighting another into the mag jam to chamber a round when a man was coming out of the darkness in front of him.

“Hey, back up!” Ricky shouted in a voice that was raw from fear. He put his palm out there. “I said back the fuck up—this is a crime scene, damnit!”

But the man was coming on regardless of the commands.

“If I have to tell—” Ricky sort of lost what he had to say when the man stepped into a pool of moonlight. The man was tall, taller than Ricky by maybe another head or two. He was broad-shouldered and long-legged. Like the man he just plugged up with enough ammo to kill three men, this man was naked and lubricated down to the ankles with blood, and other crusty, grainy things that could be pieces of yellow fat and splinters of bones.

It made Ricky squirm, something knot up inside.

“Hey, now, take it easy,” Ricky said like the man might still have some rational side to him behind those black, glassy eyes that filled out the sockets like marbles. “I said stop right there. I’m not going to tell you again, sir!”

But again, the man advanced on Ricky like he had no other intention but to get in real close and show the young man a secret or two.

Ricky had enough of these games, he lined up his sight on the man and squeezed off a shot that ripped a vertical cavity up the man’s face. He sort of stumbled back like he was stepping on something disagreeable, then steadied himself and came forward again.

“ Jesus Christ , what the fuck are you?”

The man started hissing, but all that was coming out of the syrupy gap in his head was a froth of pink bubbles and oily rills of blood. It sounded like a dead man trying to speak underwater. Ricky felt shivers run over his skin and he knew if he had a mirror to look into right then, his face would have taken the shade of a finely whipped cream.

Ricky fired. Then fired again.

One bullet went far left but the other managed to lodge itself in the man’s lower throat, and a gush of blood came flying out in stringy strands that nearly sprayed Ricky Turner in the face.

Ricky yelped as he stepped back.

This was too much, all so very much.

He had no idea what the hell was suddenly happening in Wilburn, but whatever it was, he was thinking grave things, like the undead decided they were tired of being buried in the earth and maybe thought it would be better to claw their way out and get some air.

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