Well, crashing about the house flicking on lights, I was asking for it really. The sounds of clawed hands on doors came soon enough, with the moans.
jeez
In the movies, they had done the fear, the horrible deaths, the tension of a siege. But they hadn't factored in the sheer noise the zombies made. I mean, the movies weren't exactly for educational purposes, sure. But they were the only thing I had to go on, and I found myself cursing them for not being realistic enough.
There are few things as scary as hearing, not just seeing, the things bash at your door and claw the windows. Really, I should have got out there and then, but it was so absolutely, brain numbingly terrifying that you don't notice you're scared. You sit there, hypnotized as windows smash and bloody bodies come pouring into your living room. It sounds stupid, but I had to fight the urge to just lay into them with my crowbar. The whole horde. I wanted to take them all on. Who did they think they were? Breaking into my house?
Yeah, I know. dumb.
I got myself into the kitchen, closing the door on the roiling mass of gore-covered dead. For some reason the light was off, I was left in the dark, only a streetlight outside prevented me from being totally blind.
Didn't cross my mind any dead would come in through the back door.
That was, until it tried to eat me.
Two hands, gripping my shoulders. Teeth in a black maw, opening for my throat. This was where my survival instinct finally came to me. I brought my fists together, low, and as it came for me I brought them up with all my strength and adrenaline, between its arms, breaking its grip and landing it a hell of a blow on its chin. It staggered back, slipped on the homework I'd poured out of my bag minutes before, giving me the chance to finish it off with a thrust of the crowbar.
First time homework was of any good to me.
I didn't have time to gloat over my victory, since the door holding back a hungry horde gave way. It was sheer luck in the dark kitchen that I avoided the flailing grip of torn fingers. And luck again there were no more waiting for me in the garden. I grasped for my bike in the light of the streetlight, found it, and made good my escape up the avenue before I joined the shambling procession bursting out the back door.
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