Max moved as silently as he could up to the large wooden deck that surrounded the back of the mansion. No zombies could be seen and he wanted to keep it that way. A wide set of screen doors separated him from to potential safety the large house could offer.
As he tried the door, and found it locked, the darkness of the forest pressed in on him like a tangible enemy. Each creaking branch sent shivers running through him. He imagined cold unseen hands gripping him from behind or hordes of zombies moaning out their hunger for him would appear at any moment.
He didn’t have much in the way of tools, just his leatherman and his old sword. Besides he wasn’t too keen on the idea of breaking the lock. Who knew how smart these things were? They might be able to slide the door open after he was inside. So instead, he crept toward a kitchen window. As he pried it open with the tip of his sword, he heard moaning coming from the house.
At first he cursed his luck, but then he realized that this was moaning of a different sort-the type lovers made. Even though the window had been opened, he considered leaving and finding a different place, until he heard the stumbling footfalls of what had to be a large mob of undead approaching his position through the woods. He couldn’t be sure if this was a group following him or random bad luck, but in the end it didn’t matter.
Deciding to take his chances, Max crawled through the window. He upsetted a potted plant on the way and it fell off the sill. Fingers fumbled for it as the plant toppled to the floor. They caught the side, but he couldn’t keep his grip. It didn’t shatter, but it hit the floor with a dull thud. He could only hope that it wasn’t loud enough to alert the flesh-eaters outside.
Once he got his feet under him, Max started to head toward the more human moaning, letting the point of his sword lead the way.
Almost at once, he realized he had been wrong about the cadence of the moans. Yes, they were the moans a man would make while screwing, but the female’s were cries of pain and anguish. She has to be getting raped, he thought. What should I do?
Before he could even formulate a pain, the icy barrel of a gun was being pressed against his ear. “Hold it right there, punk. Denny, someone’s in here!” the man yelled.
Despite the danger of the gun being pressed against his head, all Max could think about was how loud the man had shouted.
He heard, “Stay here, bitch or I’ll make it real hard on you.” But before he could see who either of these men were, the sounds of meaty slaps hitting the plate glass windows could be heard.
I’m in some serious trouble!
Riding a bike through crowds of milling undead is harder than he might have thought. Max was just trying to get to one of the bigger houses that had their backs to the forest, but he wondered if he would ever get there.
A hand swiped at him and he passed, almost causing him to spill. This made him so distracted that he road straight into a big male zombie. The bike’s impact wasn’t enough to knock over the walking corpse, but it did cause Max to jerk forward far enough that the zombie grabbed a handful of his hair.
He cried out and tried to pull away from the jaws already snapping at his face. Another zombie came in and clawed at his back attempting to get a hold. This second one got a kick to the chest that sent it falling back into yet a third one that had drawn close.
Max’s sword came free and as the hairpuller leaned in to deliver a bite that would cost Max his life, the point of the sword went up through the walker’s chin and became buried deep into its skull.
It saved his life, but cost him his sword, for he lost his grip when the zombie fell backwards. Getting situated on the bike, as another dozen lurched his way, Max sped out of there. They were thinner closer to the woods and he had no more accidents, but now he had other issues.
How can I go to one of these houses if the damn things can see me? If even one knows I’m there, it will attract others and I‘ll be back where I started.
Then he had an idea.
He rode his bike east, south, and then west again. The whole time random zombies lurched and grabbed at him, but they were more spread out and his ability to avoid them got better as he went. Once he had made it to a three-way intersection about an eighth of a mile from the house he had picked, he stopped, took a deep breath, and released the biggest scream he could muster.
They came from every direction. Before half a minute went by, he was already second guessing his plan. When the first one got within ten feet of him, he took off. Hands groped at him and fingers racked at his clothes. Despite the horror he endured, he struggled back toward his fallen sword, which was luckily only a block away.
He made it to his old blade. Pausing to grab it could easily cost him his life, but he did it anyway. First, he hopped off his bike and ghost rode it into the zombie closest to his fallen weapon. The bike crashed into the zombie, knocking him off his feet and tripping up two that were lumbering in behind him. Max hurried to pull the sword out of the one he had killed earlier and with a fluid motion decapitated an undead housewife that loomed in behind him.
“Hot damn!” he shouted, but already he was in trouble. He made the impossible shot off by fencing forward and stabbing another through the eye, but they were coming at him from every direction. The three zombies he had knocked over still covered his bicycle. “Screw it,” he said aloud and then began to lay into them like a berserking Viking. Fingers and then half an arm went flying, but he had yet to incapacitate one.
Hands tried to find hold on his back and with another yell he jumped away. The western side of the street met a thick section of woods that bordered a sharp rocky hill. Without a look back, he made for it. Hands grasped at him, but he pushed past and entered the forest. They moaned as the horde followed, but just as he a hoped, the trees slowed their pursuit.
He raced down the rocky hill. I need to slow down. One misstep and a broken ankle ends it all. Looking back, he actually smiled when several zombies tumbled violently down the embankment. He wanted to stay and finish them off, but they were too many and from the sounds of it, some zombies were moving through the woods.
I need to get out of these woods and to that big house before it’s dark or I’m screwed. After casting a final look at the mass of undead, he started jogging. These woods connected to the forest behind the house he had picked. With a little luck he could make it there without any of them being in sight when he broke in.