I finally stopped and sat down, my back leaning against the chain fence lining the field. I took a long gulp of water out of a purple water bottle. When I placed it down, I got a full view of Chelsea running towards me, but not in a jog. She was in full sprint mode and covering ground at that. Behind her was a contaminated, hissing and spitting its way behind her, and keeping pace. It was fast, not hobbling or handicapped as were others that I dealt with in the past. This was dangerous.
I reached out and grabbed hold of the wrench, standing up. Though my legs felt like warm jelly, they held well enough for me to trot forward. I reached the edge of the baseball field and planted my feet in a ready stance. Chelsea was about one hundred feet away, the contaminated only twenty feet behind her.
“To me!” I said in a yell, but not so loud to echo across the field. The trees were far away, and sound travelled very easily in this area. I had to be sure that contaminated were not attracted to the noise, or at least not in large numbers.
Chelsea had seemed to catch on to this. She was not yelling, but she was motioning for me to get out of the way. I held my hands up, questioning why she would want me to move, the heavy wrench weighing down my right arm. She ferociously pointed behind me.
I turned to meet a contaminated face to face, its yellow eyes staring into my own. This was the first time that I had a chance to get a good, full view of the eyes of the contaminated. They were yellow, not black and yellow, but yellow. The whites on the sides were even a darker shade of yellow, but the center was bright, almost a golden color. The most interesting part was that there were no veins to the eyes. It was solid.
The contaminated began to hiss at me, as expected. I gripped the wrench at the end of the handle. I had about a foot and a half of swinging room with the extension that the wrench size gave me. I put my back into the first swing, but missed horribly. The contaminated stepped back slightly, and then hissed again as if waiting for me to try a second time.
I gripped higher up on the wrench this time, more towards the head of the weapon, giving me a faster swing but less reach.
“MOVE!” I heard come from behind me. I whipped around in time to see Chelsea run by me, putting her shoulder into the contaminated which approached me.
The one that followed her was not far behind. It was hissing as it ran, sort of funny to be honest. The hiss sounded as if it was pissing itself, propelling it forward. Call me crazy, but that is exactly what it sounded like: a great mobile pissing machine. Now that is a title for a fantasy book.
I almost laughed myself into a fit at the thought, but took control of myself before it hit the baseball field. I readied the wrench, my right hand placed right under the head of the weapon, left hand farther back. The contaminated kept running full speed at me, fearless to its future demise. I whipped the wrench forward as fast as my hips and shoulder would allow me, the iron weapon flying through the air faster than I would have imagined.
The torque of the wrench landed itself into the gut of the contaminated, pushing it back from its run. I pulled the wrench up from my swing and readied another, noticing that it had taken a significant chunk out of the contaminated stomach, though the creature was still moving as if it was merely pushed back.
It came at me again, but I was better prepared this time. I loosed the wrench again, its iron ringing through the chill October air. It collided with the skull of the contaminated with a definitive crunch and squish. The monster fell almost instantly to the ground, dark blood seeping into the dry sand.
Suddenly I remembered Chelsea behind me. I whirled around to see my bat flying through the air, colliding with the skull of the second contaminated. Chelsea stood before it as the contaminated fell to the ground. She struck it one, twice, three more times in the head before throwing the bat to her side. I gave my contaminated one more hit on the top of its head for good measure.
“You okay?” I asked, slowly walking over to Chelsea. Her arms were covered in blood and some was lodged into her sweatshirt and stained her legs. “Chels?”
“Fuck these shits,” she said. I do not want to say that Chelsea had never cursed before, but she rarely used expletives, and I had never heard her curse like that before. “These things think they can come and mess with us, I’ll fuck each and every one of them! These bitches will rue the day that they decided to mess with me!” She ended with what appeared to be her best he-man impression, raising the bat over her head and letting out a very masculine roar.
This was hot.
She picked up the bat and smacked the contaminated once more in the spine this time, blood splashing out through its head like a geyser.
“We should bury them,” I said.
“Why do they deserve a burial?” Chelsea said, angrier than I think she meant to.
I walked over to her, wrapping her in my arms and kissing her on the top of the head. “They were people, once. It is only right,” I said. The digging and burial would also be good exercise for our arms and upper body. I could not let this opportunity pass.
