Free Dead Beginnings (Vol. 1) by Alex Apostol

a large piece of jagged glass. It drug across its chest and down its belly. The body collapsed to the floor, the first to break the barrier and make it into the house.
                  Lonnie and Rowan took several steps backwards, away from the bleeding corpse as it lie on the floor.
                  “Is it dead?” Rowan whispered frantically into Lonnie’s ear.
                  “Yeah, but it’s not stayin’ down.”
                  The lanky, gutted male pushed itself up. It swayed with its guts spilling out of the gash, its intestines dangling down to the floor like the rope Lonnie used to swing from at the Michigan cabin. It took an unsteady, lumbering step toward the two warm bodies of flesh and everything fell to the floor with a nauseating splat—stomach, intestines, spleen, gallbladder, liver. Nothing was neatly tucked inside anymore.
    Rowan raised his hand to his mouth and gagged.
                  Two more bodies came crashing in through the dining room window.
                  “Let’s get out of here!” Rowan yelled as he turned for the stairs.
                  “No!” Lonnie grabbed ahold of the panicked man’s arm. “How do you think these things got to the windows? By climbing the porch steps. We go up there, they figure out how to climb the stairs, and we’re done for.”
                  The disemboweled male raised its arms and charged forward. Lonnie took his assault rifle in both hands and fired a single shot at its head. He missed and caught the thing in the throat instead. Slick, black blood spurted from the wound, spraying the couch and floor. One of its feet slipped on the mess and it tumbled down.
    Lonnie jumped on the opportunity. He ran to the fallen body and shoved the end of the rifle into the forehead of the writhing creature. He fired one off and the corpse lie motionless below him, as it should have always been.
    A surge of heroic energy sparked through Lonnie’s body. We are not going to die today , he thought as he stared at the lacerated, disfigured form. The face was one he’d never seen before in town. That was good.
    Twenty feet behind him, Rowan screamed over the sound of guttural growls. “Help! Get them off!”
                  If Lonnie truly wanted to be rid of the sniveling, worthless man, the moment had arrived. He was in the clear to find a way out on his own as the zombies swarmed over Rowan and tore him from limb to limb. All he had to do was get up, walk past to the back door, and slip out. He may never get the chance again. He whirled around and ran.
                 
     
    XV.
     
     
     
    The AR-15 slammed against the skull of the clawing, ravenous corpse that had a grip on Rowan’s dark gray t-shirt. It let go, stunned by the blow for a second before it turned to Lonnie with its mouth opened impossibly wide from an unhinged jaw.
    The short, sturdy blonde turned his body and put all his weight behind the next crack across the bloodied creature’s head. There was a loud crunch as the side of its skull caved in and a thump as it collapsed to the hard floor in a mangled heap.
                  “Get it off! Get it off!” Rowan continued to scream.
                  Another zombie had him by the arm and was trying to pull his soft flesh into its snapping jaws. “Oh, God! Get it off me!”
                  Lonnie grabbed the thing by the collar of its dirty button-down plaid shirt and flung it to the side. It crashed into the end table by the couch, wood flying in all directions as it burst into pieces. There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation as Lonnie stomped over to it. Splintered bits of cheap wood jutted out from the thing’s left side and arm. Lonnie dropped to his knees, pulled it up by its shirt collar with one hand, and pummeled its face with his bare fists.
                  He wasn’t thinking as he