Free Undying by Kenneth Woodham

the first full on dazing punch, I booked it. I shoved my way out of their reach and ran home. I was running as hard as I could. I was literally seeing stars and having trouble running straight. Home wasn't far but each step felt like an eternity. The whole time I kept telling myself they were right behind me. I swear, I could feel them grabbing at my backpack and I could hear their footsteps. When I got home and looked back they were nowhere in sight. They might not have even chased me once I got away. I just imagined them grabbing at me and the footsteps I heard were, most likely, an echo of my own. I think about that moment now and slow my running speed. I turn back to see if, by chance, the street is clear and maybe they got distracted by something. I turn back to look and I see the large snarling guy with his hanging jaw. He is at a full sprint and within reach of me. Before I can react, he tackles me to the ground. His jaw bone crunches and pops as he snaps at my face. Dark goo splashes my cheek as I squirm in attempt to escape his grasp.
      He is heavy. Aside from his dead weight, no pun intended, his grip is tight and hard as nails. I can feel his boney fingers digging into my arm. I push up on him as hard as I can to keep him from biting me. He isn't letting the use of half his jaw slow him down any. He bites at me as hard as he can. His teeth loosely click together and his gaping wound is making a disgusting squishing sound. He thrusts his face towards me and almost takes off the tip of my nose. I shift his weight to the right and knee him as hard as I can. It isn't working at all. Another one of them falls down towards us. She a frightening older woman who appears to have somehow lost half of her face and her left arm. Lucky for me, she knocks the big guy to the side. I, with ease, push her away and climb to my feet. There's no time to celebrate. They've surrounded me yet again. At least, there's only a dozen or so, I think to myself, seething with sarcasm.
      I see an opening. A clear shot, if I'm quick, to a house with the front door wide open. I run, or try to. One of them has a hold on my backpack. Without hesitating, I take the bag off. I pull free and plow my way through the small crowd. The big guy is on my tail again. He's faster than the others, he may have just recently turned. I put one in his kneecap for good measure. As he steps forward, his knee gives in and his leg folds backwards. He falls forward into his own momentum. I chuckle and sprint to my goal. I cut across the driveway of this home. I can see into the house from here. This is my chance. I run inside and bump into something. Something that smells like sewer. He's a big one. A tall guy wearing tattered overalls. This guy looks like he was strong when he was alive. I'm not taking any chances. I fire a round from my trusty revolver into his face. His nose disappears and his eyes roll back in a daze. Before he can recover, I drop the gun and grab him by his overalls. It takes everything I have to throw him out of the front door. The second he hits the ground he begins to twitch violently. He's getting back up but I'm not going to give him the chance to get me. I slam the door shut and lock the handle, bolt, and chain. I run into the living room. Besides some dried blood on the carpet, the living room looks exactly how I imagine it did when this all started. The coffee table is neatly organized, complete with coasters and a stack of magazines. I scan the room and find a wooden chair in the corner. I grab it and run back to the front door. I jam it up under the doorknob. It should buy me some time.
      I run back into the living room and prop up the couch against the main window looking outside. The curtains are drawn and the window is still intact. After getting the couch set up covering half of the window, I push the entertainment center over in front of the exposed half. Luckily for me, TVs are very light these days and the entertainment center