NaNoWriMo Day 19

The thing shoved a flayed hand through the hole, grasping for the knob. Phil recoiled.

Head in the game, son! Move!

Phil turned, swept his gaze around the room, looking for options. The window hadn’t been opened in at least two years, was actually painted shut, and was three stories up. The only door was the one getting forced open by a dead thing. The gun was out of bullets.

His eyes settled on an aluminium softball bat. Well, hell, not a lot of options.

The door opened. The flayed corpse pulled its obscene arm back through the hole it had made. Pushing the door open wide, it staggered in, raising the cleaver on high.

Phil stepped in and swung away, the bat’s arc bisecting the thing’s left arm, connecting with a tremendous crack. The cleaver came down, but the bat’s impact knocked the thing off balance and to the side, and the chopping blow missed. Phil was too busy to notice how narrowly it missed, which was a good thing for the state of his nerves. He immediately wound up and swung again, aiming low this time. This strike was less potent, connecting but at a glancing angle. The flayed thing was shaken off-balance, it seemed, but this didn’t deter it from reaching back and lashing forward with a horizontal sweep of the cleaver.

It miscalculated its lunge. Phil actually found himself inside the thing’s reach, and instead of taking a blade to the face, he was clocked by the naked meat and gristle around the revenant’s elbow. It was a tremendous blow, and put him on the floor.

working off of instinct, he rolled onto his back and thrust straight upwards with the bat. He connected with the thing’s torso, shoving it back and off-balance again. It was tremendously strong, but clumsy.

The flayed thing staggered back two steps, regained its balance, and came in with another vertical chop. Phil brought the bat up to meet it, hitting it between the wrist and elbow. This was accomplished by luck as much as anything else.

The radius and ulna held, but the naked muscle squished under the impact, and the naked fingers, which resembled a puppet’s hand dipped in blood, lost their grip on the cleaver’s handle. The dropped blade gashed Phil’s left arm, which he didn’t notice until afterwards. He pressed the advantage, throwing a series of rapid-fire blows at the thing. Its left arm was broken and worthless, but it fended off the assault with its right and did so with some skill, all things considered.

Phil raised the bat over his head in a two-handed executioner’s stance, and brought it down as hard as he could, like he was ringing a carnival bell with a mallet. The time the bones of the dead creature’s forearm did give way, and the bat continued down to crack against the thing’s naked skull.

Phil’s hands were numb, arms tingling, and he’d dropped the bat. The shock of impact was something he hadn’t really been braced for. The undead didn’t look too perturbed, though. It lunged at him teeth-first.

Phil was in the middle of the most horrible wrestling match imaginable. His dead friend’s mostly skinless mutilated body, still full of knives, was writhing atop him like a snake, bearing him down to the floor and trying to get jaws on his throat. The broken arms mostly flailed uselessly. Phil had the use of his arms, but the unholy thing on him was stronger than a man, and slick with gore. He was past horror, but he found he was still capable of disgust, and he couldn’t get a grip.

That changed when his hand happened to fall upon the handle of the steak knife buried in the left pectoral. Like everything else in his world now, it was slick with blood, but the molded plastic was shaped for easy gripping. He tried using it as a lever, and managed to force the thing back off of him. Then the blade tore loose from the muscle with a wet ripping sound, and the bloody skull was coming back at his throat.

Phil somehow got the blade into its eye socket, and jammed it in until it stuck. He used his new leverage to force the head back, and grabbed the knife in the right pectoral, pulling it out with his left hand.

With the eye knife holding the creature in place, he began sawing at the throat.

It took a while, and he found it to be incredibly difficult to get all the way through the spine, but in the end he managed it. His arms were tired, and actually beginning to cramp.

When the head came off, the body went limp for just a heartbeat, then suddenly snapped to and started thrashing like a dying snake. That took a while, too.

“Not bad, for such a soft fool,” the head said to him. “I’ll see ye further down the road.” Then it was still.

It was all done.

After a few minutes of heavy breathing teetering on the brink of hyperventilation, Phil got up. His arms were starting to cramp up. Looking around his room, he saw that pretty much everything was smeared or spattered with Amir’s blood.

“Well, shit,” he said.

Still wanna try explaining everything to the cops?

“I’m gonna take another shower. Then we’ll see what he had in his wallet. Probably a good idea to grab a screwdriver for swapping out his plates, too.”


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