Last Dawn of a Horde

Chapter Eleven: The Final Assault ~2 Jimmy

~Jimmy~

            One by one, they took us away.

            It pretty sucks when even the girls—including Camille—were punched and knocked out and none of us can do anything about it. Other than a heavy blow on my head, they almost cut my arm off.

            I remembered the whole thing for the very last moment I’ve seen.

            I’m sure it was Rolcene who they dragged by the neck. Using a tight chain, they connected his neck as they drove in circles. Zombies were coming from different directions, hungrily moaning around. Rolcene can’t do anything else but kick and struggle.

            And when those people were done making fun of him, they threw him on the center of a herd of zombies. After his cry, none was heard of him next.

            Of course everybody was trying to escape. Camille was with me before the time she was pulled away from me.

            “Jimmy! Jim! JIM!” Camille yells hard before a sack was placed on her whole head.

            Waking up like in those times we were captured, I felt nothing different. Or maybe I did. This time, we were stripped and chained. Our hands were above our heads, and our ankles are chained, too. It’s as if they’re stretching us.

            I felt my head was pounding real hard. I also found it difficult to see—my sight is full of white patches that won’t go away easily. When I can see who was hanged across me, I almost gasp if my lungs weren’t feeling crushed.

            Stella was hanging upside down. There was a gash in her stomach, and a second later the gash widened and her guts drop slowly down. The stench made me want to vomit; yet nothing but air came out of me. I was crying. Blood trickled down until her bloodless, clammy face.

            On the corner of the room that looked like a piece of a cave, was a tall man cackling evilly. That laugh sounded familiar, and horror overcame me when I remember him. He was the one who was on that night we were taken.

            He shot me a look. “Ah, the boy is awake.” His English sucks, actually. “Ala!”

            Next to him was a roller table with a tray. Whatever that was on the tray were silver and didn’t look good.

            That’s when I noticed Patricia was beside me. She was breathing feebly, and her face was full of blood. I thought she was dead, but she wasn’t. Yet. I looked at her up and down, and that’s when I saw both of her arms were cut off. Blood was dripping from where her arms should have been.

            The man was approaching me, and he was holding an arm.

            A bloody arm.

            “We use this to feed our pets,” he said. “Mmm! Delicioso!”

            I started crying.

            “Oh, why are you crying?” His brows furrowed, but nothing about him was really concerned. He threw Patricia’s arm around her feet.

            To my absolute horror, she was already dead. On her back were bleeding lashes and cuts.

            “Now.” He was looking eye to eye with me. I went on avoiding his glare, but he stepped closer to me and held my chin. With such unbearable force, he turned my face towards his.