Zombie Rehab: Impact Series - Book 2

CHAPTER 23

  Institute, WV

  Rod. He had been known as one of the biggest and baddest fighters on the Eastern Seaboard. For over 15 years he had fought in anything from a cage to a parking lot. Never once had he shown fear or shed a tear. He'd been known as the Black Python in the Octagon. He'd kicked like a mule and punched like a heavy weight. He was big, fast, fluid, and feared. He'd had that advantage over his opponents because they were living. This fight was different. His adversaries were dead.

  He let off his last round, imploding the face of his latest attacker. It sagged to the ground as another stiff creature took its place, arms clutching at his neck. Two automatic pistols were blazing in his hands. The bullets punched into the bodies of the undead, slowing them a tad. Head shot! Head shot! Head shot! The rounds ricocheted from the metal foreheads as the relentless gang surged forward. Rod dove behind a counter and reloaded.

  BLAM!

  He caught one in the knee, sending it reeling to the ground.

  “Yeah baby!”

  Ka-Blam! Ka-Blam!

  Two more dropped, but they were still crawling. The others were closing in from all directions.

  He glanced at the window. Henry was gone. I've got to get out of here!

  “Ugh!”

  Something heavy slammed into him. The stench of the dead filled his nostrils. He fired a series of rounds over his shoulder, every bullet lethal. No effect. A zombie was biting into his suit, and another was pulling him down.

  “NO!”

  Fear assailed him. If bullets couldn’t stop his enemies, then what would?

  “NO!”

  Rod wasn’t going to die like this. He was the Black Python.

  “NO!” He flipped the zombie from his back.

  Octagon Legend.

  “NO!” His boot crushed another’s jaw.

  As anger coursed through his big body so did the adrenaline. He had started fighting when he was ten. 25 years of training hadn't prepared him for a day like this … but it would have to do.

  The zombies were fast. The zombies were strong … unyielding. But, the zombies couldn’t fight worth a shit.

  “Come on, you dead bastards!”

  A roundhouse kick sent one staggering to the floor.

  “You can’t touch me!”

  Two more crashed into each other as Rod jumped away. Another clutched at his neck. Rod snapped its wrist. He stuffed its fist inside its own mouth and swept its legs from underneath it. The zombies were writhing all around him now as he jumped, dodged, and dived. The zombies were inferior in size, average men, nowhere close to his height or weight. The death match was becoming a mismatch.

  “Let go, you—urk!”

  He cracked his head as he was pulled to the ground. Warm blood was seeping into his eyes and the hoard went into a frenzy. The mangled mass became a creeping doom. Rod twisted away from the clutches of two disabled zombies and dashed towards the stairwell. Two zombies cut off his path as they closed in.

  “Damn!”

  His chest was burning now. He scanned around in the dim light, looking for a weapon of any kind. He bolted into the security room, grabbed a chair, and slung it into the zombies. One toppled over. The other came on. Its fingers tried to tear off his mask. Rod snatched the monster up, hurled it into the others, and yelled.

  Now one was hanging on his leg, biting into his ankle. It felt like his leg was in a vice. He screamed. Reaching down, he grabbed the back of its head and tore off its mask. He couldn’t see much in the darkness, but there was a skull. He ripped his hunting knife from his belt and plunged it into the back of its skull. He pulled it out just in time to thrust it under the chin of another. He lost his grip

  “R-Rah!” he bellowed as he tore through the hoard and headed for the window. The zombie suit was the only thing saving him from being ripped to shreds. There must have been four hundred pounds of zombies tearing into him as he fought for every step. The window was only ten feet away. He could hear voices screaming from down below.

  “I’M COMING!”

  Like wild animals, the zombies clawed at him and bit into his suit. It held, but the skin and muscles underneath were getting torn. Rod’s body was on fire, and the pain was blinding. Sweat and blood seeped into his eyes. NO! I can’t die like this!

  The window was only five feet away from his outstretched grasp.

  “Gotta! … Keep! … Moving!”

  He made another step, dragging a zombie like an angry child. He was so close now, but his body didn’t have the energy to make another step. Just one more step. Please Lord, give me the strength.

  ***

  From down below they all gasped at the sight. Rod’s massive frame appeared in the window, clutching at the ledge. Henry shouted helplessly as the zombies covering the man began pulling him back in. The big man held on, his big gloved hands digging into the metal window pane.

  “Come on, Rod!”

  Henry thought he heard his friend say ‘Run’ as he was pulled back into the darkness.