Free Solstice: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse by Donna Burgess Page B

again. The engine hissed, teasing him into thinking it would start, but then died once more. “Hell.” He glanced up into the rearview mirror. Between the faces of his two students and through the back windscreen, he thought he saw a dark shape flash behind the car.
    “Did you see that?” he asked. He tried the ignition again. Nothing. The engine clicked feebly, but didn’t fire. He looked up again. “Guys, is there something back there? Behind the car?”
    “I didn’t— ” Josh began.
    “Oh, shit!” Brett cried.
    BAM! Something slammed into front windshield, shattering the glass and sending it raining in onto Stu and Tana. A bluish-white face appeared in front of him, its lips drawn back in a gruesome snarl or smile. It was a younger man, infected and whacked out of his mind.
    “Going somewhere?” the man asked, his voice like the hiss of a snake.
    “Stu!” Tana grabbed at his arm, but before he could react, the figure on the front of the car had vanished. He’d leapt up on the roof, and it sounded as if he were dancing a frenzied jig overhead.
    In the next instant, Tana’s door was torn open, and two sets of gnarled hands plunged in, snatching at her face, hair, and clothing. With a deep scream, she fought them off. Turning outward in her seat, she kicked wildly.
    Brett threw open his door, and he and Josh sprang from the backseat, wielding their bats. The boys swung wildly, as the other attacker continued to stamp on the roof of the Volvo.
    Stu jumped from behind the wheel and dashed around to help, but before he reached the passenger side, the dancer dove from the roof of the car, tackling Stu and driving him hard to the wet pavement. Stu’s breath left him in a weak gasp and his cricket bat flew from his hand, landing five feet away. Christ, he wasn’t anywhere near the condition he thought he was in. The young infected man straddled his chest and pummeled his face with freezing fists until Stu was positive he was going to lose consciousness.
    The young man stopped pounding Stu long enough to lean forward. Cold, rotten breath wafted into Stu’s face, and Stu thought he would vomit from the stink. His eyes watered, blurring his vision, and he blinked hard. He shoved at the man and managed to grab a fistful of long, cement-colored hair. He yanked the man’s head back, but the man pulled away, leaving Stu holding a snatch of hair.
    The man seized Stu’s face, jagged fingernails digging into Stu’s jaw. He pulled Stu’s head back, exposing the throat. Gnashing his teeth, he then dipped his head toward Stu’s neck. Freezing spittle sprayed Stu’s skin, as the man pressed his mouth to Stu’s pulsing jugular.
    Crying out, Stu slammed the man’s skull with his fist, just before the guy’s jaws snapped closed on his throat. The man reeled sideways, and Stu scrambled to retrieve his cricket bat. Getting to his knees, he brought the bat down across the man’s head, shattering the skull and sending a rain of dark blood into the air and onto George’s Volvo.
    The bat splintered, and the wide end flew away into the darkness, leaving Stu holding an oversized toothpick. “Shit.” His fingers had gone numb from the blow he delivered to the side of the crazy man’s head, and he wondered if he had broken his hand.
    The man looked up at Stu, his broken skull gaping open, dark blood running into his face like stripes. “Come on, little man. Come into the darkness. It’s beautiful here!” He tried to climb to his feet, but fell back to his knees. “Let me bring you over. Let me eat you up, pretty eyes and all!” He wiped at the blood covering his face and then licked it from his fingers.
    Disgusted, Stu drove the splintered bat into the man’s temple. The man howled like an injured animal and fell backward on the pavement, where he flailed violently. His blood left him in rivers, through his wounds, through his mouth, nose, and ears, and finally, he was still.
    Winded and dizzy, Stu raced to the other