The Sharp End

The Sharp End - Part Two

Perkins had been dead.

And now he was...not dead.

How Burke kept himself from screaming in terror, he didn't know; perhaps he'd already passed that point given what he'd dealt with so far. What he did know was that he couldn't let that thing get any closer. He drew his Browning M1911, pointed it at his former comrade, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet struck the Perkins–thing right in the center of the chest. Perkins slowed for a second, more a result of the kinetic force of the impact than anything else, and then continued forward.

No way...

Burke fired again.

And again.

Every shot hit the Perkins–thing dead on target, the three bullets ending up in a tight group less than an inch apart from each other, but none of them had any effect whatsoever on the undead creature before him. Burke wanted to scream in frustration as the thing continued shambling toward him. It was less than a dozen feet away at this point and he didn't know what the hell he was going to do if this didn't work...

He shifted his aim, centered the barrel of the gun right on the Perkins–thing's forehead, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

Not believing what his ears were telling him, he tried twice more.

Click. Click.

Either the Browning had jammed or he was out of bullets.

He stared down at the gun as if it were a lover he'd found in bed with another man and then glanced back up just as the Perkins–thing pounced.

It threw itself upon him, carrying them both to the ground as it shoved its face forward, knocking Burke's gas mask partially off his face as it tried to reach his throat.

The gas stung his eyes but didn't seem to do any other harm, so Burke focused on beating at the creature with his fists, striking it again and again in the face, momentarily holding it back with the sheer ferocity of his blows but knowing at the same time that he couldn't keep it up forever. He bucked and twisted beneath the dead thing's weight but couldn't throw it off of him.

He brought the hand holding the gun lashing back down, hammering another blow into the Perkins–thing's head, but the creature ignored it, snatching at Burke's free hand, instead. It caught the hand between its own, brought it to its mouth with a jerk that felt to Burke like it was trying to pull his arm from its socket, and then clamped its jaws shut on his hand.

Burke shrieked in agony.

The pain was incredible; it felt like he'd just thrust his hand into a pool of molten steel and the pain grew worse as the creature ground its teeth together. He pounded at its face with his the butt of the gun while trying to wrench his trapped hand loose.

The creature ignored his blows; might not have even felt them for all Burke knew. It just kept biting down, inexorably bringing its teeth closer and closer together until with a sudden snap it bit clear through his hand.

The Perkins–thing reared back, the last two fingers of Burke's left hand dangling from its mouth for a second before it sucked them inside and swallowed.

Burke was screaming non–stop now, from both the pain and the horror of it all, but still he fought on, refusing to stop fighting until the very end...

A trench knife was suddenly thrust over his head and into the Perkins–thing's eye, burying itself right to the hilt.

The creature jerked once and went still.