No Zombies Please We Are British Read Free

two streets away. His once friendly and trusting face was contorted by death, his eyes clouded grey like large cataracts.
    The second man was a stranger; he was taller than the shop owner, and had a thick beard that was now matted with clumps of dried blood. His lips were pulled back in a snarl, and Jack could see strips of flesh stuck between his teeth. His brain made the immediate association with the faceless woman who was crawling towards the car, seemingly incapable of making it to her feet like her fellow attackers.
    “This can’t be happening,” Jack cried out as his brain began to put all the pieces together. “You’re dead.”
    Jack was not sure if he actually expected any of them to answer, but saying the words was enough to get him moving.
    He backed away from the car and looked around. He was on the other side of the street, and saw many faces looking out of their windows. They were watching the world fall to ruin, and too scared to make a move to try to interject.
    “Help me,” Jack called, but the people he had addressed slid back into the perceived sanctuary of their homes. Safe behind their locked doors and drawn curtains.
    Looking around, Jack saw that he was not alone in the streets. There were others, caught unaware, who were suffering the same fate. The earlier mob that had run through his street had not been without casualties. As he watched, a young man in church-worthy attire burst from between the buildings. He stumbled and fell, and two more things descended on him.
    They moved with a speed and dexterity that defied their clearly undead status. One was missing an arm, the bloody stump a torn and mutilated lump of flesh. The other was covered in so much gore it was impossible to tell what injury had claimed his life. They sped after the man, who had found his footing once more, and hauled him to the ground.
    They tore into his flesh, fingers digging into his chest. Long undead fingers penetrated his body and hooked around his ribs. With a strong tug, they pulled his rib cage apart, and his torso exploded with a wet pop. Blood spurted into the air, showering the two creatures with a shooting cascade of gore.
    The man was still alive as the one-armed man buried his head inside the poor soul’s gaping chest cavity. There was a wet tearing sound, and the head reappeared with a bloody mouthful of dripping tissue.
    Jack could not clearly see what it was, but his imagination filled in the blanks. In any case, it was enough to silence the man’s tortured screams, and that in its own right was a blessing.
    A growl brought Jack’s mind back to his own predicament. The two men had realized that there was a simpler way to get to their prey and were moving around the car. Thinking fast, his strength returned, or at least the surge of adrenaline convinced him that was the case, and Jack leaped at the car. He pushed himself up onto and over the roof in a fluid move. Jack landed on the other side and was met by the persistent, crawling woman. Her raw face looked up and him. Jack hurdled her and found his stride immediately. Running down the street, he bolted back into his building and threw the door shut behind him.
    Panicked, he looked around for a way to block it, but then realized it locked automatically and could only be opened from the outside with a key card.
    Jack looked at his hand as if for confirmation. At some point in his flight from the living dead, he had pulled the card from his jeans pocket. It was there, clasped in his fingers; covered in blood, much like the rest of him, but it hadn’t stopped its effectiveness.
    He wondered for a moment if the creatures killed a resident, would they have the wherewithal to be able to use the card to get into the building. He realized soon enough that if that was the case, they were fucked on many more levels than that.
    Turning, he bolted up the stairs, his legs turning to jelly as the initial surge of adrenaline wore off. His body shook as he fumbled the