Zombie Road: The Second Omnibus by Simpson, A. (e ink manga reader .txt) 📗

to find a way up but he couldn’t slow down. That ugly, leaping thing wasn’t getting tired. It wasn’t breathing hard. It didn’t seem to mind that its fingers were already worn down and bleeding or that its clothes were being shredded and torn off.

He was going to have to turn around and fight her if he didn’t see a way up the limestone face of the ravine sometime real soon. He was getting winded. It would be better to turn now, try to kick her teeth out and stomp her head to a pulp. But that thing was strong, even without legs. Snake fast, too. If she managed to grab his leg and pull him down, she’d be taking chunks out of him before he could stop her. Biting off his fingers if he tried to push her away. He hated the fast ones. They were too dangerous to kill without a weapon. A gun, a knife, a big rock or something to even the odds. He remembered the first one he’d put down with a blade. It had been strapped face down on a gurney and it still almost bit him before he could sink a knife into its head.

Gunny stumbled over a piece of rusty steel sticking out of the ground and looked back down instead of looking up for an escape. He’d tripped over a jutting piece of metal half buried in the sand. It looked like an old leaf spring from a car. The creek bed was littered with garbage, someone had used this place to get rid of their trash. Old plastic bags were shredded from animals digging through them and sun faded paper and tin cans were scattered among the broken lawn chairs, smashed televisions and other debris. Gunny scanned the mess, looking for something he could use. Anything to even the odds because it was time to fight. He couldn’t keep running, the thing would chase him forever. In the dim light, he made out a bent ironing board, most of an old weed whacker, rusting steel car wheels, bald tires and other junk. No baseball bat. No garbage can lid to use as a shield. No big chunk of metal to use as a club. Just garbage waiting for the rains to wash it away.

The voodoo woman was coming fast, dragging her useless legs and nearly leapfrogging with every powerful pull of her arms. He could hear her ripping through the sand and gravel and sage brush. He saw what he needed under a scattering of broken jars, empty tins and fast food bags. He snatched up the bent bicycle wheel with the jutting, broken spokes and a battered, rusting shovel with a few inches of snapped off wooden handle. Blood was still trickling from the gash on the side of his head, running down his neck and soaking his shirt. His ear still throbbed with every pounding heartbeat but he was through running. He spun as she flung herself at him, mouth wide and eager to taste the blood. He brought the bike wheel up and caught her full in the face, some of the sprung spokes gouging furrows across cheeks and forehead. He twisted with the force of her jump, shoved her aside and swung the piece of shovel at her neck. She spun in the garbage and it glanced off her shoulder blade, flaying it open to the bone. Her bloody hands grabbed for legs to pull him in close but he jumped backward, brought his shield back up. She didn’t take a second to regroup, didn’t need a moment to plan her next attack. She grabbed at the trash, leaped at him instantly and he deflected her head again with the wheel. She landed face down in broken glass and ignored it, she clawed at his feet and snapped at his ankles. Gunny kicked out and a steel toed boot found her teeth and sent them skittering into the trash. He followed through with a grunt and a swing of the shovel when she turned to attack again, ignoring her smashed lips and bleeding mouth. He caught her on the side of the head with the edge and it cut to the bone, the top half of an ear flying off to join the teeth scattered in the trash.

She ignored it, snapped at his hand and sprang for him again, her legs dragging behind and torn open from the rocks and debris. He pulled away, dropped the shovel and barely avoiding her jagged, broken teeth taking a chunk out of him. Gunny backed off, using the bicycle wheel to knock her aside again as she forced him away from the piles of garbage. Away from any other weapon he might find. The wheel was falling apart, most of the spokes were broken with only a few holding the hub in place. One more lunge and she’d break the last of it. That was okay. He told himself. They’d gotten turned around in the fight, he could run back to the cars. There he would find something big and heavy to bash her head in. It had only been a few minutes, hopefully Casey hadn’t turned yet. If he had then maybe he was still trapped in the Mustang. If not, he’d deal with it. For now, he had to get back to where the weapons were.

Gunny backed away and she came scrambling at him again, boney fingers pawing the sand, jaws gnashing the air, shredded legs dragging uselessly. He fell, tripping over that piece of steel jutting out of the sand that looked like an old leaf spring. He dropped the wheel and backed away on all fours as she leaped again, her strong arms sending bloody fingers clawing for his face. She stopped in mid jump and slammed to the ground, face planting between his legs. Hands that were ripped to bloody shreds, fingers barely more than bones clutched at him as he kicked away