The Last Stand

Wednesdays are great fun. We have the weekend to look forward to. The work week is half over. And we get to vote on the flash fiction stories over at Indies Unlimited. What more could you want?

No there is no cake. No you can’t have a cookie either.

Damn people I give you stories and then you demand cookies…

Just no pleasing you people…

The Last Stand

The scene would have been eerie enough if it had only been a heavy fog. It wasn’t fog, of course. It was nerve gas – the kind of stuff we swore we didn’t have anymore.

Jenkins and I hunkered down, sweating away in our safesuits, weapons at the ready. The dead quiet was unnerving.

“You think that got ‘em, Paul? That had to get ‘em. Nothing could live through that.”
I closed my eyes as I heard the distant snap of a twig among the trees. I tightened my grip on the flamethrower. They were still coming…

The Last Stand

Photo by K. S. Brooks

In the distance, they were faceless unknowns. That changed as they shambled toward us. The gas, it changed them, caricatures of their former selves, their former lives. Wives, husbands, children, those of us unlucky enough to have been left behind.

“Hold steady, Jenkins,” I said. The barrel of his rifle shook at the site of the horde. I didn’t expect him to hit any of them, wouldn’t do much against them anyway. The flamethrower that was the weapon that might get us through this advance. But there were only a few of us with one.

Further down the line a rifle flared with the explosion of early fire. That called the horde toward them. They hunted by sound and smell. A rifle blast was a turkey call telling them where to find the fresh meat.

The way they shambled, you wouldn’t expect them to be fast. Never trust what your eyes lie to you. Several more cracks from a rifle echoed in the night air as the horde crushed toward the source in a wave.

Jenkins screamed and fired in earnest as others in the line fired into the wall. It helped to spread them out a little but there were so many. I released a steady stream of fire as they came toward us, towards Jenkins and his rifle blasts.

The world filled with black smoke of burning flesh. But there was more than that, the screams of the living as they over ran the line.


Don’t forget to head over to Indies Unlimited and put in a vote for me. It’s a small price to pay for the love of fun stories.

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: