Walker? or Zombies? (Walking Dead Game x Strong OC)

Chapter 15: The Belly of the Beast

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The smile on Zack's face was not one of joy. It was the grim, eager expression of a master craftsman seeing a worthy challenge, the predatory gleam of a wolf staring down a panicked herd. The grotesque blockage of bone, filth, and writhing pale flesh was not an obstacle to him; it was a canvas.

"Alright," he said, his voice a low, eager whisper. "Let's get to work."

Lee and Carley exchanged a look of pure dread. The stench alone was a physical assault, and the sight of dozens of those pale, blind things squirming within their nest of rot was a vision from a fever dream.

"Zack, we can't..." Carley started, her voice choked with nausea.

"Stay behind me," he ordered, cutting her off. He didn't look back. "Keep the light on me. Shoot only if I go down. And I'm not going down."

Then, he charged.

He hit the edge of the nest like a thunderbolt. The structure of debris and corpses shuddered under the impact. He wasn't trying to climb it; he was tearing it apart. He grabbed a tangle of rusted rebar and rotted wood and ripped it free with a grunt of exertion, exposing a squirming knot of the pale walkers.

They turned toward him, their milky eyes useless but their heads snapping to the sound, jaws agape. Before they could even lurch forward, Zack was among them. It was a slaughter so fast, so brutally efficient, it defied belief. His stealth blade moved in a silent, horizontal arc that took the heads off three of them at once. His combat knife, held in a reverse grip, punched up under the jaw of a fourth, silencing its gurgling moan permanently.

He was a whirlwind in the narrow tunnel. He kicked a section of the nest apart, sending walkers tumbling into the filthy water, and was on them before they could regain their footing, his boot stomping down on skull after skull with methodical, sickening crunches. The pale, slick creatures were disoriented, their senses overwhelmed by the sudden, violent intrusion. They were adapted to silence and stealth, useless against a hurricane of pure violence.

Lee and Carley could only hold the flashlight steady, their beams illuminating the horrific tableau. They were elite soldiers watching a god of war at work. Every move Zack made was precise, economical, and utterly lethal. He spun and ducked, his blades a constant flicker of motion. He used the tunnel walls to kick off of, changing his angle of attack, never letting himself get bogged down.

A walker lunged from a dark recess within the nest, its fingers brushing Zack's shoulder. For a heart-stopping second, Lee thought it had him. But Zack simply pivoted, allowing the creature's momentum to carry it past him. As it stumbled, Zack's arm shot out, his hand clamping onto the back of its head. He didn't stop. He continued his forward motion, slamming the walker's face into a protruding metal pipe with enough force to shatter its skull like an eggshell.

He tore deeper into the nest, a human demolition machine. He ripped and kicked and slashed, dismantling the blockage piece by bloody piece. The pale walkers scrambled and fell from their perches, only to be met by his waiting blades. He was covered in black slime and gore, a grim reaper harvesting souls in the bowels of the earth.

Suddenly, a section of the nest above him gave way. A cascade of debris and three walkers dropped directly on top of him, burying him from sight.

"Zack!" Lee screamed, his blood running cold. He raised his pistol, trying to get a clear shot.

But before he could fire, the pile of filth exploded outward. Zack rose from the debris like a vengeful spirit, his eyes blazing in the flashlight's beam. He held a walker in front of him like a grotesque shield, its body absorbing the grasping claws of its brethren. With a furious roar, he shoved the corpse-shield forward, knocking a half-dozen of the creatures off balance, and then he was on them, his blades a blur of righteous fury, carving a path through the heart of the chaos.