Excerpt from new book VIVA LAS VAMPIRES: Chapter 2 That One Armed Bandit! The Colonel had come crashing into the building through a side window, and rolled hard as he hit the floor and slid into the wall, but years of combat and training had him on his feet running and gunning in a split second like a soldier half his age but deadlier….much deadlier. He had no clue of the layout of the building he was only a quick look from the outside before he tried to draw zombie horde away from Rocky and give him a chance to make it to the U.Z.I. (Urban Zombie Interceptor) piloted by that crazy nut Holleman. Even as he hauled ass to the back of the building he didn’t make a sound, moving like a silent breeze sweeping corners with his AK-47 trigger finger poised, if a mouse had squeaked it would have been the last sound it made, the Colonel could here the dead clambering through the rough entrance he had made, and with the sound of splintering wood he knew the front door had given way to the masses. He didn’t know how many zombies were on his scent, but he knew he would need more bullets than he carried if he had to stand and fight. Unfortunately the building wasn’t as big as he hoped, and he heard another window break nearer to his position than he felt comfortable with, as the rank smell of rotting flesh wafted down the corridor. He knew if he was seen they would come at him like a tidal wave, and he needed an exit strategy pronto. He rechecked his rifle mag crouched at a corner towards a fire exit, and as he started to slip out and break for the door, a shuffling sound made him freeze. It was coming from right around the corner where he nearly ran. The sound was slow moving, which was a plus if it was an Old Fart, they were the easiest kills, but in no way could he be seen, because with the dead’s empathic link to one another it would set off a warning bell to the others as to his location. He remembered the first time that theory was brought up, and laughed off till it was tested and no one was laughing any more. The shuffling and slight grunting snapped him back to lethal focus. He slung his rifle and silently slid his eight inch field knife from its sheath. This would take timing, because if it was headed for his corner it could smell him by now, and he knew it was locked in because even the din of gunfire from the U.Z.I.’s twin gatlings, that could be heard circling the building, couldn’t distract it now. A thought made the Colonel remember something he carried in his leg pouch, a small shaving mirror he used in the field for signaling team members since radio systems were down. He didn’t want to hold it out around the corner for a better look, because it would see his hand and rush him, so he laid it down near the corner on the floor and slowly slid it around the corner to a point he would know when it was right on top of him. Then he could strike, and make a run for the fire exit.
Posted on: Fri, 07 Mar 2014 01:22:35 +0000
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