Chapter 78- The shot heard round the block

I felt foolish, swinging my hammers idly in the air, unable to land a solid blow.  Pulling on my wrists, I twisted downward, trying to break the monster's hold.  His fat fingers wrapped around my forearms like vicious tentacles, and I felt my skin tear under his clammy grip.  This wasnt the first time one of these things had made me bleed, but I was determined to make it my last.  I pulled one arm toward me as hard as I could, and waited for it to pull against me.  As soon as it it did I used its momentum sent an elbow crashing into its nose.  I heard a satisfying crack and thick gelatinous blood dripped from its large nostrils onto my jacket.  I pulled again, hoping this thing was dumb enough not to realize I was trying to repeat the process.  Without access to its higher reasoning I repeated my powerful blow.  A split formed across its nose, opening a horizontal gash that connected the holes of its yellow-encrusted eyes.   Blood dripped down its bulbous nose and joined the stream emanating from its nostrils.  It shook its head as though confused, and renewed its attempt to bite me.  I repeated the steps several times, first pulling away then forcefully slamming it with my elbow, each time making a larger mess of its face.  Its nose was practically unrecognizable now, and blood poured out of the gaping hole.  It ran down into its mouth, making a choking, gurgling sound as it snapped at me. 

I read World War Z by Max Brooks when I was in college.   I was fascinated by the author's description of huge hordes of zombies they found wandering in the oceans.  Millions of infected, devoid of oxygen, grouping like a deadly school of undead fish surfaced on an opposite continent months later.  I remember wondering how the human body survived and functioned without oxygen.  I was no doctor and certainly not a scientist, but I knew the brain needed oxygen to function.  The infected human on top of me was obviously still using its lungs, at least on a limited scale, becuase the thick tar it had for blood would spout and bubble rhythmically as it "breathed." It was clearly on a limited scale, and took breaths only a few times per minute.  Perhaps it didnt need as much oxygen because it only used a portion of its brain.  I wondered if this almost catatonic state also applied to its heart and how this thick blood was being moved throughout its body.  Zombies in Hollywood could only be killed by destroying the brain, a myth I had assumed was the case here.  

If this was true, it could be killed with more than head trauma, destroying its heart could stop it, or at least slow it down, right?  Unfortunately in my current situation I was not in a position to test my theories, and found myself increasingly uncomfortable as my slow but determined attacker bled all over me while continuing to make attempts to bite me.  It was an impass.  We could both injure the other, but neither could gain an advantage.  Sooner or later my strength would give out, and then his relentless attacking would swing things in his favor.  I was determined not to let that happen.  

I looked around desperately, hoping that something would give me an idea or provide something that could help improve my situation, but the empty street held nothing but the corpses of dead walkers, those I had hit with the van during my joyride the previous day.  The van itself was only a few feet away, but with this massive behemoth on top of me it might as well have been a mile away. I thought of my handgun sitting peacefully on the dashboard. Why had I convinced myself not to bring it?  The risk of attracting the mega horde was certainly a very real possibility, but when compared to a slow death being eaten alive, I'd take my chances with the horde. Unfortunately I didn't even have that option at this point. 

"Lou!" I called out as loud as I dared. "Lou! Can you hear me?"  I waited but there was no response. The infected blob on top of me snapped his teeth idly, as though he was indifferent as to whether or not he actually bit me. Was he beginning to tire?  I assumed these monsters would move indefinitely, but perhaps that was a fiction placed in my head my motion pictures and TV shows. If he really could tire than I could gain an advantage, assuming he would tire before I did. At the moment my elbows were locked out, and my hands, one still gripping a hammer, were plunged deep into his thick hide.  With my elbows locked I could relieve the strain on my muscles, and I as though I was resting after bench pressing a gigantic bag full of gelatin. His hands stayed clamped onto my forearms, and I moved my head to the right to avoid the last few drops of blacked blood dripping from the cavern in his face that used to be his nose.  

A shot rang out in the air, echoing off the buildings and ringing in the silence. A wave a panic chilled my spine. A shot like that could have been heard for blocks. I imagined thousands of walkers standing idly around that abandoned gas station, now looking up into the sky, then moving slowly in our direction. A second shot rang out, followed by inaudible yelling. He sounded bullish and angry, but I couldn't understand his words, not that I really could before.  

A third shot rang out followed by a tortured scream.  The monster pinning me to the ground looked up, momentarily distracted by the sound, and I put aside my fears for my elderly companion and used the distraction to make an attempt to free myself.  I dropped my left arm and pushed hard with my right, and he rolled to the side onto his back.  I leapt to my feet, pulling upward in an attempt to free myself from his grip. He snapped at my knuckles but would not release me, and I spun around rapidly, gaining a solid footing on either side of his huge form. With all my might I jumped up, plunging my feet downward onto his face. His chin flipped to the left and his grip instantly slackened. I pulled my arms free and used my hammer to end this writhing horror.