Zombie Games
Jason stood,
waiting, watching and planning; planning which one to take out first. He
tightened his grip around the handle of his chosen weapon; a sword he had spend
hours sharpening and cleaning that it shone like a diamond. Standing alone, he
blocked out all sounds and focused.
He heard them
first. The rasping, gurgling and moaning. The dragging of heavy feet across the
fine sand. Then he saw them. Slowly, a
group of about fifteen headed his way on the prowl for food. A rotting stench
filled Jason’s nostrils but he knew that would pass once you got used to it and
he was. He edged closer towards the group of moving rags. And then they smelt him; the thin layer of sweat
covering his body, the pure blood pumping through his body, the meaty flesh of
a young active brain.
Filled with a
burning hunger, each zombie now moved with purpose towards the food. They were
fast but Jason was ready. Instead of holding back, he moved forwards, his sword
raised and he swiped. One Zombie was down; a fallen heap as the head rolled.
The only way to kill a zombie was either blowing its head off or decapitation;
Jason preferred the latter as he was trained to fight hand to hand combat.
Another zombie fell, another and another. It was just too easy. But zombies
were stupid; walking dead driven by hunger with no sense of anything other than
smell for food. As long as Jason knew where
they all were, there would be no surprises. And he knew exactly where they were
as his sword danced through dead flesh, fountains of blood covered him but
still he marched forward. Blood soaked sand covered his boots as he stepped
over limbs, heads and torsos. Only three left. With a single wipe, he felled
two. Now it was one on one. Taking time to clean his sword, Jason surveyed the
carnage as the final zombie stumbled blindly towards him. Time to toy. Jason stood, his sword by his
side. Closer the zombie came, snarling, spitting blood and staring with dead,
unseeing eyes. A bloodied hand reached out, so close as it tried to grasp at
the living flesh. With a flash of metal, the zombie head was on the floor as
the body fell in a puddle of blood. Lifting the head up high by the scalp, Jason
held it up for all to see.
The stadium
erupted into loud cheers and flag waving. Flowers were falling at his feet. It was
never ending as the sound vibrated right through him. But he was used to this celebrity status; Britain’s
top sportsman, the world’s best in the new sport of Gladiators verses Zombies.
The Zombie
Apocalypse hadn’t turned out to be as apocalyptic as feared. Thanks to Super Soldiers and the tenacity of
the human race, it fizzled out before the Zombies could take control. And a new sport and hero was born.
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Written for the Zombie run over at Jezri's Nightmares with Lisa McCourt Hollar