The seventh book in the popular Green Fields series
“Have I told you lately that I love your murderous ambitions?”
“You keep mentioning shit like that,” I muttered, but kept on smiling. “I’m starting to think you’re trying to condition me.”
“Good behavior deserves reinforcement.”
Then we were close enough that the zombies both heard and saw us, and things went downhill rather quickly—for them. The first shambler came at us with a burst of speed, only maximizing the Newtons smashing into its face thanks to the feet of sturdy wood in my hands. It dropped like a wet rag, making room for the next one to meet a similar fate at Nate’s hands. We separated, me stepping to the right while Nate took the left, confusing the undead for a few moments as their seemingly singular target split. Just for the heck of it, I screamed as I hurled myself toward the next, making several heads snap my way—and thus turning Nate’s work into child’s play. One of the last shamblers to come up went for the easy target and tore into one of the downed ones rather than attack us, leaving the back of its head nicely exposed. If I hit it a few more times than strictly necessary, it was pure coincidence.
Panting, I looked around, ready to grin triumphantly at Nate—when suddenly, a hand clenched around my left ankle and pulled, sending me off-balance and consequently crashing to the ground. I barely had time to bring the bat up between me and the shambler that came charging right for my face, wood meeting surprisingly sturdy flesh rather than barely held-together tissues.
Shit. One of the juiced-up ones!
Teeth snapped together inches away from my nose. It took all my strength to keep it from getting any closer, the angle far from perfect with me having to push up while the zombie could rely on gravity to help it along. Panting, my legs scrambled for purchase until I managed to rotate my hip enough so I could get a good kick in, my boot hitting a meaty thigh. It wasn’t enough to get it off me, but the shambler got distracted for a moment, letting me pull both my legs to my chest and aim better. Using my entire strength, I slammed my heels upward, hurling the zombie into the air and off my body.
I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could, my thighs protesting under the abuse. Not a moment too soon as the zombie came charging right back at me, slamming its body into mine with enough force to drive the air right out of my lungs as I went down once more. This time I was prepared, rolling backward over my left shoulder to avoid getting trapped again. But like a deranged gorilla, the zombie kept coming, hunkering down on all fours before it sprang after me. It barreled into my hip, clawing fingers raking along the sturdy material of my cargo pants. Had I been wearing normal jeans, it would likely have rent the skin and muscles along my thigh.
I swung the bat blindly, hoping to hit something vital. While my swing connected, it only seemed to enrage the zombie further, making it howl with anger. It body-slammed me again, hitting my stomach with its shoulder, sending us back down in a tangle of limbs. And fuck, that thing stank!
“A little help here!” I huffed out between pants. Somehow, the zombie managed to get a hold on my bat and tore it right out of my grasp, twisting enough that my wrist protested. Not wasting a moment, I slammed my fists up into anything they would connect with, then grabbed what was left of the zombie’s clothing—some kind of uniform jacket, or outdoor gear, I couldn’t tell in the darkness—and tried to roll with it to come up on top. I didn’t quite manage, my right leg remaining trapped, but I came up crouching over it, which gave me a great opportunity to first punch it in the face, then follow up with my elbow. Bone crunched, echoed by a satisfying gurgling sound, interrupted by irregular wheezing. It stopped trying to pull me in close so it could chew on me, instead shifting to throw me off. The second I could free my leg, I let myself fall onto the ground and away from the thing, kicking and scrambling until I managed to spring to my feet once more.
As soon as I cleared the body, Nate was there, swinging the bat down hard on the shambler’s kneecaps to break them before he went in for the kill. Five whacks and it went slack, leaving just our irregular pants as the only sound in the night. Turning around, I made sure that none of the other undead came back to life—a second time—before I leaned over, gasping to catch my breath. Judging from the hunk of meat lying a few feet away from the one that had given me some trouble, it hadn’t been one but two of the juiced-up freaks.
Straightening, I quickly checked my gear. No tears, but I definitely needed a good scrubbing with water and bleach. But at least I wasn’t bored any longer. Among other things.
Nate stared my way for several seconds before he pushed the goggles up, letting me see the look of amusement on his face. “Don’t tell me that almost getting chewed to pieces gets your libido up?”
“Well, you were the one talking about bonding exercises. Maybe all I needed was a little bit of excitement to get my blood pumping.”
Nate heaved a theatrical sigh in response. “Other women want flowers and chocolates. Typical that I have to get the homicidal bitch.”
“Where would you get roses from? And chocolates would likely kill me, or turn me into one of those things. I think you got the better deal,” I informed him.
“Did I ever,” he agreed, stepping up to me—but rather than lean in for a kiss, he wiped blood, gore, and zombie brain gunk off my forehead and hair, making me laugh, somewhat shrilly.
“Let’s get back before the others get any weird ideas. Or weirder ones than they already have,” I proposed. “We can talk about the rest when we’re not reeking of carcass anymore.”
“Talking’s not exactly on my agenda,” Nate offered up, but turned back toward the camp.
I scooped up my bat in passing, taking a moment to wipe the worst of the gore off on the rags of one of the normal zombies. It was only when I let go that the torn sleeve fell away, revealing the back of the hand of the shambler—and the barely visible X-shaped mark, mostly obscured by decay and dirt. I hesitated, but then straightened and jogged a few steps to catch up to Nate. Nothing I could do for that poor fucker now—except thank the universe that, for another day, that wasn’t me down there on the ground.
Maybe boredom wasn’t so bad, after all.
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Check out Affliction now or begin the series with book one.
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