So, perhaps giving the zombies something else to eat would stop them, at least for enough time to make a run for it.
Kingsley was about to fish the pack of bacon from his bag and tell the others about his idea when a scream cut through the rhythmless chorus of fists thumping against the car. The four friends inside all turned and faced in the direction of the noise. Outside, the zombies ceased their assault on the SUV, their attention shifted.
Through newly forming gaps in the mob outside, Kingsley glimpsed a man with a hammer in his hands, swinging at one of the zombies and bellowing in rage. Then a woman appeared in front of the man, kicking at another zombie.
Some other survivors had probably had the same idea as them. Only they had acted first, and it was drawing the zombies away from the SUV.
Now was their chance.
“We have to be quick,” Kingsley turned to his friends. “Come on, we’ll make a break for the trees at the other side of the carriageway.”
“If you have to hit one of them, aim for the head,” Eric added as they unlocked the doors. “It’s the only thing that stops them.”
7.
Sammy had never intentionally hurt anyone before, but she was ready with her pocket knife as she jumped out of the clear side of the car.
Well, it wasn’t completely clear. There was one zombie off to her right, a short distance down the road, shambling toward her like a robot, moving one limb at a time. And another of the zombies that had been distracted by the other yelling survivors had noticed Eric as it squeezed past the boot of the car, turning around to chase after him.
Eric raised the headrest as the zombie rounded the back of the SUV and whacked it’s head with the heavy cushioned end. The zombie crashed into the side of the car and Eric gripped it by the neck, pinning it against the vehicle with one strong hand, clutching the headrest in the other.
As dead arms thrashed at him, Eric thrust one of the metal plugs into an eye, pushing the length of metal deep into the skull until it hit the brain and the zombie grew still.
Sammy looked at the other one just a few metres away from her now, hoping she wouldn’t have to kill it. She glanced over her shoulder at James and Kingsley. James was still very weak, barely able to walk. Kingsley had to help him out of his car and lend him an arm to speed him up.
When she turned back, the dead old woman in front of Sammy was stretching a pair of stick-thin arms toward her. She gulped and held her knife ready.
The zombie lunged at her and Sammy pushed it back by the chest. She raised the pocket knife and stabbed frantically at the dead old woman’s face, going for the eyes as Eric had done. Her knife pierced the zombie’s right eye with a sickening pop, but got stuck in the socket. It hadn’t slid deep enough into the skull to puncture the brain, and the zombie continued to wrestle with Sammy, her blade lodged in it’s head.
Adrenaline and revulsion battled over control of Sammy’s body as she ripped the knife out, still holding the dead woman back, then aimed for the temple and stabbed again. But the blade hit bone and, once again, didn’t sink far enough in to kill.
Her eyes darted around, searching for Eric, catching sight of him over her shoulder defending James from one of the undead, kicking at the threatening zombie’s legs to disable it.
Sammy was on her own. Fight or fall. She had to prove herself now, just like she’d always had to do; growing up in a stressful household that sapped every ounce of her youthful energy and forced her to dig for happiness. Hanging out with a male group of friends for most of her life and joining the testosterone-fuelled competitions between the guys. As an adult, fighting to keep her high-paying position in the advertising firm.
Sammy was used to struggling, wired to push through pain in order to survive.
It was in her nature to try again. So she gritted her teeth, pressed the knife against the soft spot at the back of the zombie’s head and rammed the blade in one last time.
When Sammy realised she had aimed too low and hit the dead woman’s spine, she was on the verge of just letting go and allowing the zombie to bite her.
But suddenly, Sammy felt the old woman’s body sag in her arms, no longer pushing against her, but dropping towards the ground. Looking down at the zombie’s limp body, she began to understand what had happened. Her blade must have severed the nerves in the zombie’s spinal column and paralysed it from the neck down.
The undead continued to snap it’s teeth like a barracuda, but the rest of it’s body flopped to the concrete, motionless apart from the occasional spasm. Sammy retrieved her knife and left the pathetic zombie sprawled in the road, then turned and rushed to help her friends...
Only, her friends were gone.
*
As Kingsley slammed James’ ukulele into the head of a zombie that had crept up on them, fierce vibrations rattling the instrument and hurting his hands, he felt wrong. Even though the person he was hitting was undead and a threat to his and James’ lives, it nevertheless felt utterly wrong to be attacking what was once a human being. Especially one with such sad eyes; this young man had obviously died in a state of pure sorrow and regret, an expression of hopelessness forever etched onto the zombie’s pallid face.
Not even bashing it’s head in with a ukulele could wipe the sadness from those features.
Kingsley was huffing by the time he had caved the zombie’s skull in – a hefty seven swings of the ukulele later. He was sure
