Kenn Crawford - Dead Hunt

Paul pulled again, but he couldn’t lift her.

“Why are you so heavy?” he grunted as he struggled with her weight.

“Why is she so heavy?” Paul wondered.

“Fuck!” Paul yelled as realization set in.

As Lauren continued to scream, Paul leaned over the hole and saw dozens of hands pulling on her. Others were biting. Lauren’s once smooth and sexy legs were pitted with deep gashes and were gushing blood. Paul’s muscles bulged as he fought against the pull of zombies. The awful sounds of chewing and screaming rang in his ears as he braced his feet against the rafters, closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and pulled. This time Lauren popped up through the hole with a wet slushy sound and landed on his chest as he fell backwards.

“I got you!” he reassured her.

Lauren stared at him wide eyed but did not answer.

“You’re ok now. I’ve got you.”

Lauren’s big brown eyes continued to stare at Paul, the look of horror still frozen on her face. Lucy screamed. Paul turned to look at Lucy, her hand shaking violently as she pointed at Lauren. Paul looked past Lauren’s unblinking eyes and over her shoulders. His gaze followed the curve of Lauren’s back down to her supple waist and that was where his gaze stopped; that was where Lauren stopped. Everything below her hips was gone. Paul screamed.

Horrified, Paul flung Lauren’s lifeless body away from him and scrambled towards the tiny slits of light created by the vent. He kicked the wooden vent, shattering it into splinters. Paul stuck his head into the tiny opening, inhaling the air and then threw up. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he spun around violently, pushing it away.

Lucy flew backwards across the attic from Paul’s push and crashed through the floor. One of her feet caught in the roof truss, preventing her from falling all the way through. As she swung like a human pendulum, her eyes could not focus on the zombies below her as they swayed in and out of view.

She screamed, “Paul!” Paul did not answer her.

Lucy tried a sit up movement to grab the edges of the hole in the ceiling. One of her hands grabbed the old plaster, and it shattered in her grip. But the other hand had gripped something solid. Her right arm and leg dangled helplessly just out of reach of the zombies, while her other foot and hand held her to the ceiling.

“Paul, I’m stuck! Help me!”

Paul still did not answer. She could hear him kicking the vent. It sounded like he was tearing the house apart. She managed to pull herself up a bit more. Her arms shook with the strain. She grabbed again with her right hand, and this time got a secure hold. Lucy was wedged between the rafters and trusses in such a way that she could not pull herself up any further. She had to keep her right leg pressed tightly against the ceiling, lest the zombies below reach it. She knew it would not take long for the strain of that maneuver to tear at her leg and stomach muscles, eating her strength. Lucy could not risk kicking her other foot free to try and pull herself out because that was the foot that kept her from falling. She was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place, and her grip was slipping.

“Paul!” she yelled again.

Paul stopped and turned to her.

“I’m slipping. Help me.”

He did not move.

“Paul, I’m slipping! I can’t hold on much longer… Help me!”

Still Paul did not move.

“Get me the fuck out of here!” she yelled as she started thrashing about, trying to pull herself into the attic.

Lucy stopped thrashing when she saw the look in Paul’s eyes.

“Paul?” she questioned in a now quiet voice.

No reply, he just looked through the huge hole he’d kicked in the wall, then back to her in a blank, emotionless stare.

“Paul?” she said again, panic grabbing her soul.

Lucy blinked a few times to see if her eyes were playing tricks on her. Her fingers were growing tired and she readjusted herself, trying to take the weight. Her mind swam dizzily in confusion. She looked down at the monsters reaching for her, then looked back to the hole in the wall where Paul stood just seconds ago.

As Lucy struggled to keep from falling, she kept mumbling the same three words over and over:

“He left me!”

Lucy could hear the zombies below but forced herself to not to look. What she was hearing frightened her. As if hanging for dear life above a group of flesh eating zombies was not frightening enough, the sound of grunts and groans made it worse. Then she heard what sounded like furniture being moved. Her heart pounded in her ears. If they learned to move furniture, they would be able to climb up and reach her! She screamed and struggled against her twisted foot. She cried and screamed and begged and twisted and cried some more. That’s when she felt it. The hands. The hands reached up and gently touched her waist. So soft was the touch that she froze instantly. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it was going to explode, yet, despite her panic, her muscles had failed her. They would not move; she was frozen with pure, unadulterated fear.

She clenched her eyes tightly in frightened anticipation as she felt something move closer to her head. She could feel its breath in her ear just seconds before she heard, “Shhhhh.”

It took a moment for the sound to register; her brain was thoroughly busy watching her life flash before her clenched eyes.

“I got you,” the voice said lovingly as those gentle hands pushed her upwards.

Her brain was still swimming in confusion, but she managed to wiggle herself free as she pulled herself into the attic. She looked back and saw those same hands grab firmly onto the rafters, and with a grunt, the head and shoulders came into view.

“Michael!” she gasped breathlessly as she threw her arms around him in a crushing hug. “I thought I was the only one left.”

He tentatively put his arms around her to return the hug, and she buried her face in his chest and cried. He stroked her hair lovingly as she sobbed inaudible words. He looked around the attic space, noticing the daylight as it raced in from a giant hole in the wall and illuminated Lauren’s lifeless torso. Michael allowed himself to cry with Lucy.

Composing himself, he looked around again and asked, “Paul?”

Lucy finally raised her head. “He-he left me,” she sobbed.

Michael’s mouth moved, but she could not hear any sounds. Was he muttering some sort of curse,or was he simply left speechless?

Loud banging from below startled them. Lucy let out a small scream.

“Come on,” Michael said, leading her to the hole in the wall.

He stuck his head out and looked around, “This leads to a little roof a few feet below. It looks like you can jump to the ground from there. Just remember to roll when you hit the ground. The last thing you want to do is sprain an ankle. All of those things are inside the house right now, but I don’t think they’ll stay in here much longer.”

Lucy nodded.

“Take this,” Michael pulled the machete from his knapsack and handed it to her.

Lucy looked at the machete then to Michael, confused.

Michael passed her a bottle of water. “It’s the only one I have, so don’t drink it all at once.”

“Michael?” Lucy started to say.

“Now listen,” Michael said, holding her face in his hand, “keep on the road. They don’t move very fast, so you don’t have to keep running and tire yourself out. Just stay ahead of them. If some more come up the road, wait until the last minute, then duck into the woods…”

“Michael?” she repeated.

“Listen, this is important!” he said cutting her off. “Cut into the woods but keep close to the road. As soon as you get around them, go back on the road and run until you are far enough ahead of them. Do you understand?”