The Dead Don't Bleed

Fight

Word Count: 2,187

The first one come was to his right, Keith could smell the thing before he saw it, and with a single swipe of his blade, he brought it through its head with a sickening squelch, the body falling to its knees without another sound. He didn't have to look down to see that his knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the handle, his stomach tightened in knots.

One down, about a dozen more to go.

Chyra fired a shot or two at his left and, as a result, two dropped dead in front of them, a hole dead center through both of their foreheads.

Keith swung his katana again, the blade slicing through yet another zombie who fell dead at his feet, the scent of rotting flesh filling his senses and making him gag. There was a cold hand on his shoulder that had him jumping only for a moment, he jerked around to dig his weapon straight into its chest, another one falling lifeless to the ground with a wet grutal sound.

It felt like hours passed, but he was sure it had been just a handful of minutes that stretched for an eternity, and Keith clenched his teeth as his blade cut through another one like butter.

Several shots from Chyra had one after the other falling dead around them, but every time they killed one, two more seemed to replace it, and Keith realized with increasing dread that they'd have to make a run for it, they no longer had a choice to stay, they were going to be overrun if they didn't move now.

He ducked as one made a swipe for his head, and he swung down at the thing's knee, bringing it to the ground. Keith stomped on its head, killing it.

Several blank clicks later brought his attention to Chyra as she cursed in frustration shoving the gun back into its holster and pulled a worn hunting knife from her boot instead. The air around them was now full of the moans of the undead closing in around them.

Keith could no longer deny the panic as they drew in closer and closer and-

There, the largest escape hole he could find between the mass of bodies closing in on them. It was small, but it was an opening.

And he was going to go for it.

Moving as quickly as he could manage to avoid a claw to the face, Keith made one final swipe to cut back any that got too close. He slid the katana back into its sheath at his back, not caring for the cold gray-red blood that dripped slowly down the back of his shirt at the action, and grabbed Chyra by the wrist, making sure his grip was firm as she met his gaze for only a second, lips parted slightly in confusion.

"What-"

"We gotta move," that was the only warning he gave before he started running, pulling the shorter girl behind him and shoving through the bodies as hard as he could manage. A cold hand grabbed a fistful of his jacket and Keith shoved it away, another got lucky and managed to rake its nails along the side of his face, but it wasn't deep even though he could feel the slight pain of skin being cut, he couldn't feel anything besides the too-loud thrumming of his own heart as he fought their way through. Chyra almost fell out of his grip and his fingers dug tighter into her wrist, earning himself a small gasp in return.

In the span of a single second, their feet hit the open pavement and both of them broke into a sprint, leaving the crowd of the undead behind them, the bag of cans thumping roughly against his back, the noise only making him run faster.

Go. Go. Go, his mind chanted and he pushed his legs to go faster, they had to get out of ranged, they had to run faster.

Neither of them stopped until they were several blocks away and the street grew quiet again.