Free Undying by Kenneth Woodham Page A

only takes a few seconds to move. Next, I run to the kitchen. Right when I think to myself "I wonder if they even know I'm in here," I hear them banging their lifeless limbs against the wood of the door. I slide across the kitchen tile. I see the back door is already closed. That's good. Next, I need a weapon. I see a knife block on the counter. I pull out a bread knife at first. I toss it aside and pull out another. A butcher's knife. That should make quick work of some of them.
      The familiar choking cough that sounds like a cat with a punctured lung coughing up a hairball. I whip around and see a young girl entering the kitchen. She couldn't have been older than thirteen. She must have been in one of the bedrooms. The life has left her a long time ago. her eyes are gray and sunken into her head. She sees me and makes a startled growl. Her gums are so rotten they are dripping off of her teeth like watery jelly. Her tongue is primarily a deep purple and pokes out unnaturally as she hisses at me. I put up the knife as if that will convince her not to attack me. She doesn't notice it. Her only concern is me.
      She comes at me. There's no time to premeditate. There's no time to think of a way out. There is only enough time to do one thing. I lift the blade and bring it down on her with both hands wrapped around the handle. The blade bows as it collides with the top of her skull. I push down and it slides across her face. The blow knocks her back into the counter. There's no time to think. There is only time to make the first move. I find myself shouting like a madman on the battlefield as I descend on this thing that was once a young girl. With one hand, I repeatedly bring down the knife like a small ax. I hack away. I block it all out. It's just chopping and screaming. This goes on for a while. I don't really know how long. Eventually I collapse back, too tired to continue. I lay there, expecting her to attack me. A moment passes and, to my surprise, nothing is gnawing away at my ankles. I probably would just let it happen anyway.
      I catch my breath and sit up. I can't believe it. I beat its head and torso into such a point of uselessness that it isn't trying to grab at the air anymore. The knife is stuck triumphantly in a pile of meat that might have been her ribcage. I don't know. I can't think about that.
      "Oh, God." I throw up as the realization of what I just did hits me.
      I crawl my way to the towel hanging from the refrigerator handle. I clean what I can of the girl's rotten remains from my right hand. I stand and return to the knife block. I grab two of the steak knives. Then I remember the gun. I run to the front of the house. I didn't come all this way to get stuck in another house. I need to move on. I need to get the hell out of this place. I see the gun where I dropped it, by the door. They are smashing their way in, though. One of them has broken in a section of the door and has managed to crawl a third of the way into the house. It's a tight squeeze but he will make it through. I look at him and then the gun. Do I have time? Fuck it. I need that gun. I run over and grab the gun. I look up to see if he's made it in yet. Yeah, he has. A snarling man with half of his face charred black. I put one of my steak knives into his good eye, then I book it. I feel him tug at my pants but I slip away. I run across the house to the kitchen, one last time. I tell myself not to look at the little girl. I get into the kitchen and the first thing I look at is the horror I left on the floor. I shake it off, in a manner of speaking. I pull the backdoor open and leap into the backyard, knife in one hand and gun in the other. It's really a shame that nobody is around to see me like this. I feel like a real man for the first time in my life. Earning each second.
      There is only one of them in the small back yard. He's a skinny guy with a big bushy beard. I kick him square in the stomach. He falls back into a bed of