FAR FROM DEAD chapter 2

2

I woke to a rumbling outside the house. I silently slid from the bed onto the floor. I peeked over the window, searching for the source of the rumbling. It was a truck with two masked men yelling at each other. From the looks of it they were armed with only crowbars. I reached into my pack, fumbling for the only firearm I possessed. I pulled the sleek pistol from my pack. I checked the clip, only five bullets. Better safe than sorry. I opened the door. The men would take at least a minute or two to enter the house. I decided against wasting time setting traps and just took cover on the upstairs balcony, looking down at the front door. The men were approaching. They entered the door, tripping my wires and knocking the cans of glass.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” one man shouted. He caught his friend’s attention and he jogged inside with the first man.

“What are you going on about?” man number two asked. “I walked in and busted these cans full of glass!” he was getting angry at his dim witted companion. He must have been the leader of the two. “so?” The leader’s friend was scratching his head stupidly. “So, we ain’t alone here! Look around and find the little bastard, we need the supplies!” They split up and started ransacking the first floor. They were loud, rambunctiously announcing where they were and what they were doing with a pointless amount of yelling.

Easy prey.

I crept down the stairs, careful not to disturb anything that could give me away. I peeked around the hall into what looked like a dining room. The leader’s friend was tearing through the cabinets looking for anything of value. I stealthily slipped behind him, raising my hatchet. He continued searching, not noticing me within a foot of his back. I chopped into his neck, burying the weapon in the flesh. He was halfway decapitated, choking and gurgling on his own blood before dying. Unfortunately he was a heavier than I expected. I tried to catch his body before he hit the ground, but I crumpled under the weight. We fell with a thud that echoed throughout the silent house.

“What was that?!” I heard running steps from the hall. I hastily jumped behind the counter so he wouldn’t see me. I heard the steps stop, and start again, slower. “So you killed him huh? I would have sooner or later, so thank you. But there’s only one way out of this house, and you won’t get the chance to use it.” The man acted like he was in control of the situation, like he knew he would get through this. I would prove him wrong. I poked my head over my cover, seeing the man search his dead friend. He took the crowbar his friend had dropped, now wielding two crowbars like a crazed mutant. He went towards my cover, striding towards me menacingly. There was no way he had seen me. How could know where I was? He got closer, close enough that I could smell his rancid breath.

The hell with the silent approach.

I leaped over my cover, flailing my hatchet like a madman. He adopted my style of flailing limbs, but his crowbars gave him a distinct advantage. I took a blow to the ribs, feeling a feeling one crack. I tried to block his next attack, but I only succeeded in knocking my hatchet onto the floor. He dropkicked me, I landed on my back. He put his boot on my chest and squatted down to my level. “I told you you wouldn’t get out of here alive little man.” He smiled, showing jagged shards of teeth like broken glass.

Broken glass.

I had to keep him occupied from smashing my skull in. “So that guy over there was your friend” I asked, gesturing towards the body. “Really scraping the bottom of the barrel huh?” He laughed like a jolly fat man with extra rations for the day. Then he smiled again, showing those horrific teeth. “So telling jokes at your last moments eh? I can respect that, but why?” I shrugged. “I have another one before I die. What’s leaking blood and won’t help you in the least?” his smile faded. Mine broadened.

“Your eyes!”

He hadnt noticed that with my free hand I had scooped a huge handful of broken glass from the floor while he was laughing. Now I threw it straight into his eyes. He recoiled, clawing at his bleeding eyes, wailing like a child. I took this opporotunity to take on of his crowbars and slam it into the side of his knee. The bone broke skin, blood spurting onto the floor. I did the same to the other leg. He fell to his knees, looking up at me, pleading silently for a show of mercy. I contemplated his fate, he wouldn’t get far with broken legs. Why waste the energy ending his meaningless life? I couldn’t take any chances.

I cracked the crowbar across his face, knocking his jaw out of place. Blood poured from his mouth, broken teeth flowing in the waterfall of red. Then I kicked him onto his back and beat his head until nothing was left but a bloody mess of bone and brain.

I searched the bodies, Finding nothing of value but an expensive looking watch. I went back to the room I slept in and retrieved my backpack, then walked to the car the left outside and checked the inside. They had run out of gas. I checked the glove box, and found a pistol holster. I strapped it to my side and gave my pistol a new home besides my backpack.

I pulled my binoculars from my backpack, scanning the desert horizon. I saw a few walkers and focused on the thin wisps of black smoke on the horizon. I put my binoculars away and grimaced. This would be a long walk. I reached back into my pack, grabbing my canteen, and took a swig of water.

Then I started walking.