Z 2134

zombie scream as it fell to the ground. Pain wouldn’t keep a zombie down, but they sure as hell couldn’t walk without working knees.
    However, zombies’ tissue could not only self-repair, but even strengthen the muscles, despite their atrophied appearance. So Jonah wouldn’t have long to finish the zombie off before its knee healed.
    “Whoa! I did not see that coming!” Kirkman shouted in his most enthusiastic voice.
    Jonah ran back toward the fallen female zombie to retrieve his machete. The other zombie, the one with the freshly sliced face, stood between Jonah and the female, while the fat one groaned from behind, struggling to crawl forward.
    The orb floated overhead, “What’s he gonna go? Can he get to the machete in time?”
    There was 30 feet between him and the standing zombie. Jonah and the zombie then ran straight at each other. The zombie’s mouth opened with a scream, and Jonah wondered if it was feeling something like the rage he was feeling. Perhaps the creature’s brain had somehow healed as well, he wondered.
    Seconds from impact, Jonah pivoted left, causing the zombie to dive forward at him and miss. As it fell to the ground, Jonah went right, then slid and rolled to a stop beside the female zombie. He grabbed the handle of his machete and yanked, but it refused to budge.
    The fallen zombie shot up from the ground so fast it was like he had never fallen, then started racing toward Jonah again.
    Jonah stood, put his boot on the female zombie’s head, pressed down, and began working the blade back and forth as if pulling a sword from stone. He looked up, terrified, knowing he had mere seconds before the zombie would be on top of him.
    With one final yank, the blade slipped free from the monster’s skull, but the momentum from Jonah’s tugging sent him flying back. He fell to the ground, hard, while somehow managing to keep hold of the blade as the zombie lunged on top of him.
    Jonah jammed the blade through the zombie’s chest, then rolled over on top of it, straddling the zombie as it screamed like a banshee, wide white eyes frantically spinning around in their charred, hollow sockets, and rotting teeth chattering as putrid breath assaulted Jonah’s senses.
    He pulled the blade up, then out, before bringing it down right between the fucker’s eyes.
    Jonah grabbed the machete and walked over to where the fat bastard zombie was crawling across the snow, groaning, with trails of black in its wake.
    The creature flung its arms wildly, trying to reach Jonah. He gave the zombie’s hands a wide berth, then circled behind it, driving his machete through its skull.
    Jonah wiped his mouth and looked down at the bodies, disgusted, then turned his attention to the blackened blood caking his blade. He slid the length of his blade along the filthy tattered rags worn by the fat zombie, wiping blood from metal.
    Jonah looked back toward the tunnel where he had left the first zombie, the one he’d shot, wondering if he should go back and finish it off or count his lucky stars and get the fuck out of Dodge before more showed up.
    Jonah decided to leave, but he hadn’t traveled more than 20 feet before the first zombie appeared. It was running toward him, not remotely slowed by the gunshot, despite a gaping hole in its chest, big enough to see through.
    Jonah panicked, not sure how to take on the runner. He readied his blade. Then, as the zombie roared toward him, he swung at its arms, missing by inches.
    The zombie didn’t miss, though, knocking Jonah to the ground so hard that it knocked the breath from his body.
    The zombie straddled Jonah and knocked the machete clear from his clutched palm. The machete slid five feet across the snow, until it was no way in hell too far away.
    Jonah bucked against the ground, trying to throw the monster from his pinned body, but the zombie grabbed both of his arms, forcing them to the ground with an impossible strength.
    The rampaging zombie kept Jonah’s hands pinned to either side of his face; the creature’s clawed fingers dug into his flesh, though not yet drawing blood.
    The zombie leaned forward, its sick white eyes swirling around in their sockets. Jonah wasn’t sure how the undead were able to see with eyes that shone with nothing but white, but the zombie seemed to be staring right at him. If Jonah didn’t know better, he would think the zombie was savoring its seemingly obvious victory rather than following its instincts to chomp down and tear