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Thirty-two

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Thirty-two

Arryn's katana found its way through yet another Rabid's skull. An inhuman cry came from the decaying mouth, sending a putrid scent towards Arryn. The flesh around the sword squelched as she withdrew the blade. Grey flesh came loose, adhering to the steel by the sticky blood oozing from the wound. She kicked the fading zombie completely off her blade.

"How much longer?" Arryn shouted through gritted teeth. Glancing back, her friends stood a football fields length away. They worked tediously trying to pry wooden boards off the doorway. From a rough glance, it looked like they had only succeeded with one board.

"We're getting there!" Savannah called back, an obvious lie. "Just keep them busy."

"Well get there faster! I think the rotisserie chickens are almost done!" Austin shouted beside Arryn.

Sure enough, the zombies that had been set ablaze were losing interest in the cars. A small horde—containing roughly about five Rabids—seemed interested in heading back towards Arryn and her friends. They shuffled forward, seeking something to devour. Smoke spiraled upwards from the flames. The Rabids felt no pain as chunks of charred flesh slid off their bodies.

How could these creatures' function? Would they continue to hunger even if they were a brain and a skeleton?

A hungry snarl ripped Arryn out of her thoughts. The small horde she had observed moments ago now barreled full speed at her. The temperature increased as the blazing bodies approached. In the air, an overpowering powering scent of burning flesh grew.

Ice spread across her heart, freezing the blood within her veins.

"Austin," Arryn said, swallowing a nervous gulp. "I don't know if we can take them al—"

A gun shot rang out from above. The zombie, reaching out towards Arryn, fell backward onto the pavement. The other soulless creatures marched on, only concerned with the fresh meal in front of them. Another crack resulted in brains painting the concrete.

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