Page 55 of War

A second later, I draw my sword down and begin sawing through his wrist. My assailant jerks his arm away, sending me stumbling into him.

In a fit of panic I unsheathe my dagger and stab him in the eyes, grimacing as I do so.

If he cannot see me, I might live.

I try to remember that the man is gone, that this thing is just a puppet that can’t feel pain. And I’m pretty sure the creature really can’t feel anything because rather than fending me off, he drops his sword and reaches for my throat.

And now my blind attacker doesn’t need to see me to kill my dumb ass. He can squeeze the life out of me perfectly fine without his eyes.

So I desperately begin to saw at his wrist again, and when that makes no notable difference I wedge one of my feet against his chest, then the other.

Black dots fill my vision.

Choking.

The water rushes in—

No, no, no.That’s not going to happen again.

With one massive thrust, I shove my feet against the dead man’s chest, leaning back against his hold.

My neck rips free from his hands, and I fall hard onto the ground, choking for air. When he dives after me, I manage to roll away just in time, my weapons miraculously still in hand.

Heaving, I drag myself off the ground.

The dead man is scrambling to get back on his feet.

Can’t let that happen.

I squeeze my eyes shut against what I’m about to do, and then I bring my blade down on his neck.

My sword hacks away at his flesh, and it really isn’t as sharp as it needs to be. It takes a few too many swings to sever his head from his body, and I’m ashamed to say that all the while I’m biting my lip to keep from screaming—just in case there are more dead around.

Fuck this day and all its atrocities.

Even after I manage to remove the man’s head from his shoulders, his body still moves. His arms still flail, his legs still kick; he hasn’t lost any of his motivation.

I stagger away from him, then trip, landing hard on my ass. I press the back of my hand to my mouth, holding back a lingering sob that wants to claw its way out. The corpse picks itself up, swaying a little now that its head is gone.

Get up, Miriam. Get up before another creature finds you.

I force myself to my feet and back up, sheathing my sword and my dagger. My eyes keep returning to that abomination, even as I move away from it.

And then I run.

I don’t knowhow the next zombie finds me, only that I’m not out of the city before another one is tearing towards me, a sword in hand.

Fuck.

I’d always imagined revenants dragged and limped themselves about. I never imagined they’d be this agile.

Then again, judging by the massive man heading my way, I’m guessing that War chose only the freshest, most equipped dead to linger on while the rest rotted away.

These final few zombies must patrol the area for any last living people who dare to move through the city.

I pump my arms and force my legs to move faster, though the weight of my weaponry is slowing me down. I don’t dare drop any of it. I fear I’m going to need it again soon.

The thought of escape seems like a dream. I’ve abandoned all hope of fleeing War and his army. All I want now is to return to camp with my life.

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