Free After Genocide: The Dead Live Again by Jose Rodriguez Page A

yourself that you are the man that you claim to be. Only with her are you tough but away you are soft like a gummy bear. 
                  From under the desk it watches; like a predator through the night a tiger hunting its feeble prey through the utter darkness. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike, my leg is in perfect coordination for its strike ability but it watches me move like a frightened deer through the wilderness. 
                  Eyes glowing red like the blood that a human bleeds when injured by a severe or even a minor wound on the body. 
                  With such speed and agility it makes a quick attack from under the desk and tries to bite me on my leg.
                  A small power struggle takes place as I try to shake her off but it is no use. I use my legs to kick her back to the ground, but her speed is too much for me and keeps getting back up in quick time. 
    “Fuck this!” I exclaim then I aim my crossbow and shoot the zombie child in the head.  Although it appeared as if I had only nicked it, my thoughts were only to move further away as possible, and forget to recover the arrow. Now down to four.
    A slow walk backwards this time then a spin to check my surroundings but still nothing.  All is silent and I’m facing the end again; and from my left side red glaring eyes and a loud growl echo. I shake my head now, a zombie on top of the bookshelf; I look and our eyes stare. It jumps to pounce, but I’m way ahead of it. With my crossbow I smack hit it while in the air and send it back a couple of feet. I draw my hunting knife now as the zombie begins to move again and I stab it in the head.
    Blood smears and drools on the floor; my next step is on a small puddle of it. To my right; another growl equaled another zombie. On top of the bookshelf, it stood and made a quick jump.  But my speed for reaction is a lot faster as I use my knife to stab into the head of another zombie. 
    Three bodies are lying on the floor in their own pool of blood; “next time don’t mess with a scared man who carries a knife,” my voice broke out in a mild cocky manner.
                  A deep breath then sweat poured down like usual. From up front three zombies viewed my position. They ran towards me; so I began to pace backwards to the end, like running into my own trap. Three zombies, each apart from one another like players in a football team working together to acquire the goal in their minds. I sheathe my knife and reach for my pistol, with each two steps I released a bullet for each zombie approaching me with ferocity.
                  Six bodies now my nerves twisting and my breathing increased then slowly began to decline when all seemed calm. 
                  Placing my pistol in its appropriate holster a sudden voice inside my head tells me to turn left echoed through my brain. 
                  Another zombie stalking my position then to my right another with my left hand I pull my pistol out again and cocked it; then aim it left. I drop my crossbow and draw my knife with my right hand then shift it to hold it from the tip. The two zombies begin to move in quickly and I turn to both sides. 
                  I squeeze the trigger on my handgun and blast the first zombie into shreds; whereas another quick glance puts me face to face with the other. My reflex to throw the knife is acted upon itself. The knife hurls with speed and accuracy directly into the zombies’ head.
                  I sheathe my knife and place my pistol in the holster. I pick up my crossbow and begin to walk. Up ahead is the same zombie child on the floor, twitching. 
                  “Poor little ones,” I said then I knock an arrow and I shoot the zombie in the head. I remove the arrow and place it back with the others.
                  Pam still in mild shock of the event that