… “Look out!” I cry and the brunette slumps to the side and I dart upwards and out of the tent onto the wet grass. The creature comes snarling at me with blood coated fangs and blood shot eyes, dressed in torn night gown she is lurching for my throat. My hands my only weapon I make the conscious risky choice to jump to my feet and pound away. Punch, wham, smack! My fists beat the undead woman’s face and blood flicks onto my jumper, her skull cracks and her nose snaps off into the bloodied grass.
“Behind you,” she warns and I spin. A group of four are mumbling rotten groans and gargling guts. But my attacker keeps coming and her mashed in face is not stopping her. But the woman comes to my aid to my surprise and grabs the beast by the neck and snaps it in one twist. “Die.” I snake left and struggle to see anything as moonlight is now obscured by clouds. Whatever is coming is hungry and the hissing and growls grow until I smell the rotting meat in my face.
My fists show no sign of slowing, they react instinctively and I punch away… left, right, left, right, left, the skull begins to soften and I go to finish it off with an almighty whack. She jumps in again literally flying past my head and drop kicks the corpse. I hear the bones snapping, and I feel the decomposed flesh around my fists. “Let’s go.”
Thanks for reading. Be sure to check out part 1 on my Medium. https://medium.com/@thomas_maxwellharrison/fist-fighting-the-undead-4f63b257b79