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Fiction – Ruth’s Tale Continued Part 3

December 9, 2011

When the zombies arrived, I was busily hacking at the reinforced window, taking my frustration and anger out on the door. If my backswing had not struck one of the zombies in the face momentarily stunning it, they might have had me for a snack before I realized they were there. Small pissed-off Israeli woman with fireman’s axe vs. three stupid zombies! I was able to make short work of the zombies but the effort left me splattered with gore and dripping with sweat.

The square-sided poll on the back of the Fire Axe Inc. fireman’s axe is quite handy for zombie killing. You have to be careful not to bury it so hard in the zombie’s skull that you cannot pull it out easy. I learned that the hard way with the first zombie, a tall balding, older white male.

The first zombie wore the ubiquitous blue, long sleeve, ripped-up Seahawk sweatshirt over a plain black tee shirt. Seahawk zombie had on some decent black slacks but had lost his shoes and socks. Seahawk zombie did not look or smell too bad; he must have not been dead very long. Seahawk zombie was momentarily stunned after colliding with my backswing. I knocked him back a couple steps with a quick jab to the face with the top of the axe blade knocking some of his teeth out.

Swinging the fireman’s axe with both hands from behind my shoulders so that the axe blade touched my ass, I hit Seahawk zombie right between the eyes with authority! I buried the poll in his forehead with splattering, crunching sound like a large, hard melon being dropped on the ground.

The axe handle caved in Seahawk zombie’s nose and shattered his upper palate accompanied by a gusher of viscous, black blood. I noticed with sickening fascination, a pair of light-blue contact lenses pop out of Seahawk zombie’s eyes when my axe poll plunged into his face. I buried the axe poll so deep; I struggled getting the axe poll out of Seahawk zombie’s face before the next zombie was on top of me.

Straddling Seahawk zombie where he collapsed on the floor, I was barely able to wrench my fireman’s axe from his face. Hunger, and several days of depravation had taken its toll on me. The axe pulled free from Seahawk zombie’s face with a wet sucking noise, scattering teeth, congealed globs of black blood and bone fragments as I wrenched it free.

Swinging from my hips with an upward two-handed swing I buried the blade of the axe in the temple of the second zombie. The second zombie was an older, beautiful red-headed Caucasian woman with quite a few colorful tattoos on both of her arms, heavy makeup and several facial piercings. She is dressed in what I have heard Americans call the “grunge” look.

Something ate most of the right side of grunge zombie’s face. The right side of her lower jaw is broken; chunks of white bone stick out of her face. Grunge zombie’s right eye is missing. The right eye socket is a jagged raw, red orifice crawling with maggots. Her tongue has a large steel barbell piercing in the center; it hangs out the right side of her face like a panting dog. The tip of grunge zombie’s tongue has three equal-spaced steel hoop piercings; one in the center of the tip and one to either side. How she talked with all that metal in her mouth I can only guess.

Grunge zombie has on a man’s flannel shirt with a blood-soaked, long sleeve gray cotton hoodie over it. The sleeves of the hoodie and the flannel shirt are shoved up baring most of her arms. Her long, pretty red hair is done in dreads which are now quite gross with clotted blood and filth. Ripped up, Levi 501s cover her legs, and her feet are in a nice pair of Doc Martin, knee-high brown leather boots. This zombie was a tall woman easily over six feet; her reach is impressive as I duck under her arms.

Grunge zombie blinked at me once with her pale blue left eye when I buried the axe blade at a slight upwards angle in her left temple just above her left ear. I barely missed a small bar piercing in the top her left ear.

I was able to wrench the axe free as grunge zombie collapsed. I used the weight of her body aiding me to rip the axe free. My axe sliced some of her hair off. As female grunge zombie fell some of her hair fell free when I pulled the axe blade out of her head with a wet, sucking noise. I notice the red color of her hair came from a bottle. I wonder momentarily if the drapes matched the carpet. There was a lot of grey underneath the red coloring.

I found my groove and my more than eighteen years of military Krav Maga training kicked in. I was rusty; Aharon would have kicked my ass, and I sorely deserved it for letting these pieces of shit almost kill me! I have a military Krav Maga black belt and I had better act like it or I will become zombie chow!

The last zombie is another male; a slim Asian male slightly shorter than I am. Dressed in a severe black suit with a white long sleeve buttoned up shirt and a slender black tie; I guess he was probably a Japanese business man or a sararīman before he became zombie chow. His belly is greatly distended; I do not think he was so fat when he was alive.

Asian zombie is older and a horrid stench accompanies him. The small white buttons on his congealed blood stained shirt are straining to hold his expansive belly. Asian zombie is missing his scalp leaving the top of his head one red raggedy, bloody mess crawling with maggots.

Something ripped off this guy’s whole scalp and it flaps behind his neck like a grisly cape. By the time I recovered from killing grunge zombie he was nearly on top of me!

I chop kick Asian zombie just above the right knee, shattering Asian zombie’s leg. The Asian zombie’s mouth opened like he might have shouted in pain when I shattered his leg. His teeth are claggy with rotting flesh. He immediately went down on his right knee forcing the jagged edge of his femur out the top of his leg.

Asian zombie did not even feel his shattered bones. If not for the physical handicap he now suffered he would have been upon me as if nothing had happened. A quick stride punch with all my weight behind it to his sternum knocked Asian zombie flat on his ass with his shattered right leg bent underneath him.

While Asian zombie was flat on his back struggling to get his broken right leg untangled from underneath him, I swing my fireman’s axe from the hips again. My swing this time was an overhead sky-to-ground chop hitting the Asian zombie through the left eye socket with the axe poll.

My poll hits Asian zombie’s head with a meaty “thwak” accompanied by the sound of shattering bone and splattering blood. The Asian zombie’s fancy polished black leather, square tipped business shoes rattle on the floor for a few seconds before he is still.

I wrench the axe free with the now familiar wet sucking noise. A piece of bloody carpet sticks to the poll; I brush it off on the floor in disgust. I wipe my dripping brow on the back of my left hand. I survey the carnage to see if there are any more zombies. I am sure I made enough noise to attract more.

I notice with disgust that I am splattered with zombie gore including blood and brains. I also find one of Seahawks zombie’s contact lenses on my shirt. Yuck! Super gross! Grabbing some loose paper trash, I attempt a futile brushing of my clothes to remove some of the zombie gunk.

Thankfully I had taken off my suit jacket but my light, white silk shirt is soaked through with sweat. I am going to have to burn these clothes! My whole chest and arms is splattered with blood. I am sure my face is splattered as well; my hair I worry about even though it is in a bun, I am sure there is shit in my hair. My skin crawls at the thought. I notice with disgust that I have sweated through my shirt. My legs got a good dousing of blood and gore as well. My pants are also soaked with sweat and gore.

I am glad that no one is around to see me in this state. I normally do not wear a bra since I scarcely have any breasts at all. Dovid used to tease me that he had bigger breasts than I did when we were teens. My areolas are very dark and large. With my once, white silk shirt soaked like it is, my nipples and areolas show prominently through my shirt which is embarrassing! No help for it now.

Returning to my previous task, I decide to grab some water and take ten before resuming my attack on the window. I had better see if there are any more zombies before getting distracted with the damn stubborn window again. Thankfully with the power out it is very quiet in the terminal; a very still eerie quiet.

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