Her knees gave way as she sunk to the steps. She looked at the empty street. The noise of a trig snapping stole her attention. A squirrel ran across the ground as if looking for food. She watched it and smiled. A zombie raced out from the side of the cabin, trying to catch the small animal. The squirrel climbed a tree and made its escape.
Brenda reached for her gun and found she had left it in the bedroom. She dropped it while getting sick. “Shit,” she whispered. The zombie turned.
Hungry shined in his eyes as drool rolled down his chin. She was in trouble. Slowly getting up she hoped he would not attack. He growled then lunched himself at her. She raced into the cabin with him close behind.
Her heart raced as she looked for a weapon. He tackled her from behind and she painfully hit the ground. “Fuck me,” she said as she struggled beneath his weigh to turn around. She positioned her forearm against his neck as she tried to push him off of her. He snapped at her, dripping spit onto her face. “Gross.”
Without looking, she reached out with her other hand to find anything she could hit him with. The zombie clawed at her, ripping into her flesh. Outrage and scared, Brenda screamed. She felt a cold handle of a hammer. Please, she prayed to the Goddess as she struggled to wrap her hand around it.
Hammer in hand she swung on the zombie. When the flat part didn’t seem to stop the zombie’s attack she turned it around and used the claw on him. His skull was torn open as blood rained on her. Disgusted, she kicked him off. Enraged she beat him until she was sure he was dead.
Drained and numb she tossed the hammer aside before she went to get her gun. Outside she ran to her car, jumped in and locked the doors. Eyeing her surroundings she was relieved she was alone. That zombie wasn’t a part of a mob.
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