Trying to pull myself together, curled up on the floor of Sir Malcolm’s office that is bleaker than ever, the orange light waning, the glowsticks well past their peak. I’m aware of something at the hole above me, peering down. Quickly gathering myself, my hand reaches for the Sig in my shoulder holster, I pull it out and roll onto my back, raising the pistol up in both hands.
A silhouette drops right at me, its shadowy form unmistakable. As it comes down into the dull orange glow, its mouth is gaping open and a loud screech vibrates down into my ears, threatening to make them bleed. The orange glow reflects into the Rabid’s eyes and I take my shot, aiming right between its dark pools.
The screech is immediately cut off as my bullet hits its mark. I roll to the side, out of the falling body’s way and I just make it in time. It smacks into the floor next to me with a thud. The dead Rabid’s head bounces back off the floor before it comes to a stop down on Sir Malcolm’s rug, with one lifeless eye looking in my direction. I’m transfixed by that eye for a moment, a moment I can’t afford.
I don’t register the second Rabid coming through the hole above until it is too late. There is no time to react and bring the Sig to bear on it. The beast lands right in front of me and on top of the dead Rabid, its head whipping around, fixing its cursed eyes on me. Shock rips through me, making my mind flounder and my body goes rigid.
Mustering some function back into my limbs, my arm feebly tries to bring the Sig up, to try and get some kind of shot away. My arm just isn’t quick enough, it’s not even close. The Rabid’s legs push it sideways straight at me, its twisted face full of hatred and its vile mouth opening.
A welcome rush of adrenaline finally courses through my failing body, energising it, giving me some strength back. I manage to get my arms up to meet the onslaught, just in time, the Sig dropping to the floor. Off-balance, the Rabid has no trouble pushing me backwards onto the floor, but my arms lock into position. Sitting astride me, the Rabid’s neck stretches as it tries to get its snarling evil face into me; my arms hold firm though against its shoulders, trying to push it back.
Drool from its wide mouth hits my face but I ignore it; my only thought is to keep those teeth as far away from me as I can. The Rabid’s strength is overpowering, its determination to feed relentless, I redouble my effort to keep pushing it back. Its head goes back slightly, relieving some of the pressure from my arms before it springs forward again, letting out an almighty scream from the depths of its throat. Inches away from my face, the scream is almost overwhelming, penetrating me to my core and the smell from its noxious breath is nearly enough to knock me out, it makes me urge.
I do not buckle or give in, my determination to fight coming from deep within me. I have to fight and survive for my children, there is no other option.
We are in a stalemate, my arms holding firm against the Rabid’s strength, neither of us backing down. The Rabid quietens down and stares at me, looking deep into my eyes as if it is looking into my soul. I stare back into its black eyes, looking for some semblance of humanity, if there is any remaining. Darkness is the only thing I see.
The pressure is suddenly released from my arms as the Rabid straightens its back and rises up from my arms. At that moment, I gamble, quickly lowering my right arm and reaching for the Glock in my side holster. As I pull the pistol out, the Rabid screams down at me again and swings its right hand towards my face as if it is going to punch me. Instinct makes me pull the trigger.
Recoiling from the force of the bullet that hits it somewhere in the left side of its body, its swinging hand hits me on the left side of my face. The hand scrapes across my face and I feel the Rabid’s nails dig into my cheek, tearing across it.
Panic and terror engulf my entire being as I feel my skin tear. I pull the Glock’s trigger, again and again, I keep firing, filling the Rabid’s body with bullets. The Rabid jolts on top of me as the bullets rip into its body until I abruptly pull the Glock up and shoot the fucking thing through the bottom of its jaw. The bullet blows the top of its head off on exit and the Rabid drops back away from me, dead.
In a daze, I quickly get to my feet and scramble over to the door of Sir Malcolm’s bathroom and yank it open. The darkness inside is almost total and the stench of death fills my nostrils. I search my body for the penlight that I know I have on me somewhere. Pressing the switch, the torches light illuminates the bathroom. Sir Malcolm’s dead body, the cause of the stink, is where I left him splayed on top of the toilet, I take no notice of him. Entering the bathroom, I close the door behind me and lock it; more fucking Rabids are bound to come, following the gunshots. Going over to the marble sink on the left, I look into the mirror above it and shine the light onto my face.
Blood seeps from three long gashes on my left cheek, my head spins and dizziness threatens to take hold and make me faint as my blood rushes out of control. Dropping to my knees, I put my head down between them, getting blood back into my brain whilst
