Keith was getting more and more curious about what was happening out there. Finally, he gave in to his curiosity and made his way to the blinds at his front window. At first, he tried to look through the tiny gaps where the drawstrings penetrated the blinds. That didn’t work so well, so he finally pushed two blinds apart very slowly, gaining a view of the outside world.
Things looked slightly different than a couple of days before, when he had lowered these same blinds. Slightly, but also disturbingly.
The morning sky was mostly clear. It looked like it was going to be a nice day. The disturbing thing was that there were no airplanes in the sky. Keith’s place was not too far from the airport. Airplanes were a common sight for him — if not the planes themselves, then the trails they left in the sky as evidence of their passing.
Keith looked at the houses in his street. Some were lit up, despite it being daytime. Others were dark, which was just as unnerving. Here and there he saw other oddities. A broken front window in the house across the street. The door of another house standing wide open. A car parked on a driveway with its door also open.
And then — movement. Keith caught a flash as something passed between two houses. He stared intently for a long minute, hoping to catch another view of whatever had moved. But nothing happened.
Keith was just about to retreat to his couch when he heard a yell. The yell had come from outside his field of view. He heard it again, and it was closer this time.
Whoever it is, he’s coming this way.
Then he saw it. It was an old man with a stick. A walking stick. The man was wielding it like a sword. Slashing at something outside Keith’s field of vision. The man turned and limped quickly further up the street. Keith could now see that the man was being followed by a woman. The woman kept pace with him. However, within fifteen yards the old man started to falter. He stopped and raised his walking stick threateningly, but the woman ignored the threat and just kept moving. He smashed the stick onto the woman’s head, but she paid it no mind, and plunged into the old man. They went down.
Before he knew it, Keith was opening his front door. Now he could hear the man yelling clearly.
“Get away from me, you wench!”
Wench?
Keith didn’t have much time to ponder on this, as he was already running out of his front yard. The woman flailed her arms wildly, trying to hit the old man. The man lay on his back with his cane held out in front of him. He was blocking most of the assault, except for a couple of glancing blows. Keith ran up to the struggling pair and caught the woman’s wrist as she raised her hand. He quickly twisted the wrist into an arm lock. The woman did not respond as he would have expected. She doubled her effort to free her hand. Then she turned her face towards Keith.
One of her eyes was a bloody mess. The other stared at Keith with wide-eyed impassivity. Keith let go of the wrist and leapt back in shock.
The woman crawled off the old man and towards Keith, apparently having forgotten about her initial prey. Whatever detachment was showing in her eye was canceled out by the malevolence of her actions.
It’s a zombie!
Keith quickly stepped back again as the woman started to get to her feet. The old man had crawled away and was getting up using a nearby car as leverage.
The zombie had taken her first step towards Keith when the sharp siren of a car alarm pieced the silent morning. Keith looked past the zombie and saw the old man looking down at the car with a shocked expression, his hands on the hood.
The zombie instantly turned and lurched towards the car. Keith’s training took over. He stepped quickly, catching up to the zombie, and grabbed her left wrist. With a push, twist and pull, he had the creature sprawled on the road.
He turned to the old man, who had recovered enough to start hobbling away again.
Just then he heard footsteps approaching in a slow jog. He turned to see a man approaching, only dressed in underwear, his eyes wide open and his feet slapping the pavement. The man reached out, so Keith executed another move, this time finishing with a throw. The man landed heavily on the sidewalk. Keith’s attention turned back to the woman, who was getting up. She had suffered a severe road rash to her face. Her cheek bone showed through white patches.
Keith took the initiative this time and stepped up to the female zombie. He shoved her backwards, sweeping her legs at the same time. The zombie landed with a crack to the back of her head and did not move again.
Right. The head.
The male zombie was getting to his feet, a movement made awkward by a broken wrist. Keith let the zombie come. All the while, the car alarm continued to blare.
When the zombie got close enough, Keith executed an immobilization move. It left the zombie face down on the pavement, with Keith controlling one of his arms. He released the arm and quickly reached in to slam the zombie’s head into the pavement. Blood sprayed and teeth scattered.
The zombie was not destroyed. He flailed his arms. Keith quickly repeated the action again, and then for a third time. Yet the zombie was still moving.
Keith stood and looked for a weapon, noting in passing that the old man was already well down the street.
“You’re welcome!” Keith called out to the retreating form.
He looked around and finally spotted something he could use. Running into the yard, he picked up the object and hefted it.
Yeah,
