Dead End [#Wattys2016]

CHAPTER 4

My back inflamed in sudden pain from the violent impact on the rocky ground. There was a sharp shard of stone poking at the left side of my lower back, probably drawing blood. I didn't have any luxurious time to bathe in my agony and recover, I had to use the rest of my dying strength to keep its deadly teeth and sharp fingernails away from my frail skin. My arms were shaking so bad that I felt that maybe they were ready to betray me and give out, letting the zombie sink its foul teeth into my neck. Deja vu. I took in a deep breath, trying to breathe in some strength and endurance, but all I really did was intake the zombie's putrid stench, making me try to hold back a cough.

A strangled cry left my mouth as my muscles got weaker and weaker. I hated it when I was in this position because the only coherent thought that was able to run through my mind was 'You're going to die.' And it was so hard to keep fighting when all I can think are those pessimistic thoughts.

With my last and final act of strength, my body working to the extreme, I rolled us over so I was on top of it, a struggled cry leaving my mouth from the overuse of all of my non-existent energy.

I clamped my knees down harshly on the monster's wrists, making it so it won't be able to use its vile nails to scratch my skin and infect me. My left hand was clasped tightly around its throat in a strangling position, not letting it lift its decayed head even an inch. I was surprised by how much vigour I was able to produce, but I guess if you're almost eaten alive, you would summon all of your energy to be able to not be killed.

I was panting heavily, trying to gain some breath in my lungs and recollect my thoughts while still keeping the beast from killing me. A few seconds later, after watching it snap its bloody teeth ferociously in vain, I shakily reached my right hand out to the side, my blue eyes never leaving the zombies hollow ones, and felt around the dry grass for anything to use to, well, kill it. I was hoping beyond all hope that I would be able to find something to make slaughtering it easier.

My hand was scuffling along the ground for what seemed like minutes but in reality I knew it was only seconds, and then finally I felt satisfaction and relief fill my body as my hand grasped tightly around a large rock, I couldn't get my hand all the way around it but I was able to feel all the sharp angles, great for what I was about to do. I squeezed the rock in my hand so tightly that I was sure my knuckles were a chalky white and I felt like I was about to draw more blood. I raised my swaying hand above my head, and without making much sound, brought it forcefully down to the beast's skull.

Dark red blood, almost black, splattered across the area, painting my face and body in cold, opaque dots. I slightly cringed from the sight that lay before me, blood oozing out of the dented skull, like the flowing of a river. Another growl erupted from the cracked lips of the dead, sounding almost desperate to be able to have a small taste of my flesh. It may have been dead but it was still alive. I raised my hand up high above my head again and struck down hard with a grunt. More crimson liquid painted me in spots, covering me like a coat. Another snarl reached my ringing ears. The zombie was still moving beneath me. I was drained and I had just had enough. I violently raised my arm up and hit again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

I paid no mind to the blood that settled itself on my skin and clothes, I just wanted it done with already. I was physically tired, emotionally beat and mentally fatigued. I had enough.

I ignored the sound of its gurgled cries and I ignored it when it was finally silenced, I just kept beating the rock down on its head, so furious with the world, just wanting to let all of my frustrations out, tired of bottling them up and moving on, I needed to set it all free, so that's what I did.