Z 2134 Read Free

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 his flesh like skin from a chicken.
    The orb floated above them both, hovering
just inches over the zombie’s head.
    “Well, folks, it looks like this might be
the end for Jonah. He gave a valiant fight, but this wife-murderer and father
of two couldn’t escape Darwinian justice.”
    Rage pumped through Jonah as he slipped
one hand free and grabbed the zombie by the neck, trying to choke it, or at
least keep it from getting any closer to his own neck. They struggled in a war
of inches as the orb floated in long, slow circles around them, announcing
every action, subtle or not, and milking the moment for every drop of drama.
    “Do you have any last words, Jonah?”
Kirkman asked, his face beaming back from the orb’s monitor, three inches above
the zombie’s menacing, chattering, rotten face.
    The zombie’s teeth were just centimeters
from Jonah’s face, as his arm, the only thing holding death at bay, started
shaking, unable to keep up with the pressure. Pain splintered through Jonah’s
body, starting at his arm. He had just moments before his cramped muscles
betrayed the rest of him.
    He thought of Anastasia and Adam,
wondering if they were watching him die.
    He hoped to God not.
    He stared into the screen, wondering if
their eyes were watching from Chimney Rock and the safe side of The Wall.
    “Any last words to your precious
children, Anastasia and Adam?” Kirkman asked, as though he were reading Jonah’s
mind. Though the announcer’s voice was soft and sympathetic, it crawled beneath
Jonah’s skin, worming its way toward his angry heart, dropping a lit match on
the rage he’d been holding in check.
    Jonah surrendered his grip on the
zombie’s neck, then let the monster fall forward, its mouth wide open, ready to
chomp down. Before it could make contact, Jonah sent his head slamming hard
into the zombie’s nose, blinding the zombie with a sharp shock of sudden but
momentary pain. In that split second, the zombie released its grip and Jonah
seized his