Eastward Ho,Zombies oh No. (prt2)

"Oh joy, a herd.

October:

It seems like it happened days ago, yet it was only yesterday that they came in masses and stormed the outter city of Tulsa. I was only playing Wii when they came, shambling in direct motions, hunting down their prey with an unnerving sense of patience. I Travel east to home, to see if Jamie is alive and the rest of the family."

Thomas layed back against a car, scribbling in his journal with a granola bar half in his mouth. The walk to the Broken Arrow city limits had been one of both amusement and close encounters with the shambling undead beings. Their blood soaked through his clothes, the rotting smell causing him to toss them and just go half naked from the waist up. His jeans were dirty and covered in gore, his axes kept clean by rubbing them on the soft autumn grass, the blood sticking to the hungry blades. He was running low on armament, half of his throwing axes stuck and irretrievable because the shambling beasts would allow no time to get them. His shield he found was cumbersome, dumping it in a building and hoping someone could find a use of it. He made due with his one hander and his two handed Bearded Nordic.

Thomas flips the book closed, tucking the pen into the spine and shoving the rest into a backpack he ripped from a dead school kid.

He walked on, skirting among the battered cars and pile ups, blood littering the streets like booze on the streets of New Orleans after Mardi Gras. A moan emits from behind a pile up, Thomas unhooked his Nordic from his back, holding it oceanfront of him with the axe head near his feet. He stealth walks up the side of the pile, crawling up a suburban's bike rack. The scent of death causes his nose to twitch, him snorting the damned smell away. His eyes peak over the edge of the suburban, his reddish hair glowing with the sun behind him.

Three zombies shuffled around on the other side of the pile, Thomas giving a sigh of relieve that he wont have to be cleaving through twenty of the folk who were affected.

Hefting his axe over his shoulder, he slid down the hood, landing on his feet with a thud as his boots made contact with a broken bumper. He gave a curse as all three turned towards him with a unified gurgle, one of them taking off in a dead sprint towards him. The others were crippled by the ankles it seemed, mearly stepping towards him. He brings his axe up in a high arc, giving a war cry at the devil charging him, his muscles twitching with rage, his grin turning into a snarl as he brought the axe down in a beautiful arc, the beard of the axe catching the shoulder of the sprinting soul, as the zombie stopped, the beard, didnt.

The cleave parted the shoulder like a rotten cow skull, traveling through the ribs with a sound of shattering bricks, finally exiting the other side through the hip, a spray of gore and intestine ripping into the air. The creature gave a gurgle and fell in two, unmoving. Carrying the momentum from the swing, he pivots on his heel and swings around, bringing the blood soaked weapon in another arc, the head of the weapon traveling up from his feet, catching the first shambler under the chin. The shambler's skull simply parts like a rotten fruit, flinging refuse and brain matter into the air, spattering a windshield with the confetti.

He stops the weapon mid swing, holding the gore coated shaft with both hands, the head resting inbetween his feet.

"C'mere little one..." He murmured, watching the zombie hobble to him. It was only a child, his A+ spelling test still clutched in his blood soaked hand. Thomas shook his head with a sigh. He had encountered tons of these poor creatures, children caught easily by the sprinters. He holds his hand out to the undead boy, as if beckoning him closer. "Come on little one... come on..." He whispers, hand outstretched. As soon as the boy enters the deadly radius of his axe, Thomas kicks the boy on the left side, spinning the boy around, back to Thomas. He spins in an elegant motion, axe head stretching out at it's farthest reach, whistling through the air towards the neck of the little undead. The beard catches the back of the neck, severing the spinal cord in a neat slit.

No blood.

No gore.

No messy death for the innocent undead.

The boy falls to the ground in a slump, his body crumpling into a heap, the body finally giving in to the freedom of death. Thomas watched in sadness as his A+ test floated free of his hands, flitting in the soft wind along the ground. Thomas reached down and snatched the test, holding the blood stained paper in his hands.

" Thomas MacKinely... " Thomas read allowed, sighing and tossing the paper to the wind. He hefted the axe onto his shoulder, walking down the road to the intersection, the sun finally setting behind him, blood red to the sky.

" It seems to be a knack of mine to kill people with the same name as mine. " Thomas said to himself, pulling out another granola bar out of his pocket, stuffing it into his mouth, and chewing slowly. He'd be damned if he chewed on anything else.