Zombie Team Alpha by Steve R. Yeager

Author:Steve R. Yeager [Yeager, Steve R.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Zombies
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2016-06-07T04:00:00+00:00

~27~

FINDING MORE

Only a fraction of a second passed before Cutter had finished reloading and was moving toward the new sound, the new danger. Gauge was with him, elbow to elbow, making just enough room to operate their weapons without jamming each other up. They spread out as they raced past Morgan, who had just come to help them with the creature that had attacked Cutter.

“Eyes open,” Cutter said as they passed by her. “Protect her.”

She nodded an okay.

He raised his Glock with the mounted flashlight and swept the space in front of them with the fat beam. There were three paths they could take, left, right, and up the middle—the old Monty Hall problem. Which door has the prize? He didn’t know, and there was no game show host to open the door with the goat behind it and alter the odds.

“Where did that thing come from, do you think?” Cutter asked. Gauge indicated to the left. Cutter sighed and went with his gut. It was all he really had to go on. They approached the massive generators and split up when they reached them. He took the middle path between them while Gauge went to the right.

Cutter figured that there was still a good chance he’d guessed wrong, but he didn’t have much of a choice, either. He had to be correct, he thought as he glanced over his shoulder, worrying a bit about the two women he’d left behind, virtually unprotected. Morgan was sharp, though. She’d sort it out. Dr. Martinez, he was still unsure of how she would react to any true threats, but she’d survived well enough so far.

Half-a-second later, he heard Betty’s powerful bark, but no second, follow-up shot. One target dispatched, certainly. Gauge required only a single round to neutralize anything smaller than an elephant.

No sooner than he had processed the gunshot and what it meant when his own light was falling on a moving shape in front of him. He zeroed in with the Glock, instantly spotlighting the new target and identifying it as a threat, closing quickly. He fired twice, a double-tap. He was a crack shot, but given the relatively small size of a 9-millimeter Parabellum, he needed to be certain that what he wanted to shoot dead, stayed dead.

Both his bullets slammed home less than an inch apart, causing the creature to fall sideways and drop into a convulsive fit as it bounced off the series of leg-sized pipes running alongside the massive generator to his right. As the thing died, it sprayed blood like a busted fountainhead then slumped into death.

He dropped a step, almost tripping over his own feet. Why do they bleed? It didn’t make any sense at the moment. All the zombies he’d seen on TV were just dead bodies filled with brownish goo, which was supposed to be some kind of putrid, rotting bodily fluids. These still sprayed oxygen-rich lifeblood, which meant they still had a heartbeat.

And that means—

He didn’t even want to consider the implications now as he prepared for more that might attack, but nothing else came at him.

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