Making A Difference

The first of the new zombies reaches the putrid corpse lying in the street and falls on top of it. It rips open the chest of the fallen gargantuan monster. The disgusting rotten stench of its blood fills the air as the beast is shredded in front of me.

Five others eventually reach the feast and dive on the corpse, fighting for a portion of their own.

'What…?' Pieces of flesh are ripped from the creature, causing organs to spew onto the ground before they are quickly gathered by the ravenous vultures and devoured.

The one that first reached the fallen foe rips out a black mass of muscle and raises it to its mouth, 'That must be the slug… Why eat it?'

A disgusting slurping sound calls out as the slug is forced down the throat of the zombie.

I raise my knife, ready to dispatch the distracted enemies, before I notice the consumer of the slug step away from the pack. Black blood pours from its eyes, ears, and mouth as it falls toward the ground, pooling in a single spot as if it has a life of its own.

It bubbles on the pavement as if boiling as it condenses in size, slowly solidifying into a wriggling mass before the corpse formerly used as a vessel. Gradually, it took the shape of a small slug.

'…Is it transforming?' Unwilling to wait for the evolution to complete, I rush to the quivering mass and attempt to stomp it from existence.

Sensing my arrival, somehow, it quickly evades my attack and leaps into the body of the zombie that previously housed it. Attempting to force itself back inside its mouth, it seems unable to fully utilize the corpse as it did in my previous interactions with the strange creatures.

Not waiting for it to enter its fleshy suit of armor, I drive my blade into the slug and effortlessly slice it in half before it leaves my sight.

'Damn it, if they can evolve by eating fallen zombies… this isn't good.' My mind races as I look at the handful of zombies still ripping apart what used to be a corpse in the street.

I run to the nearest one and slide my blade through its skull. There's no resistance, 'Thankfully, this counts as a weak spot. This will be simple.'

With a pivot of my feet, I remove the blade and turn my body toward the next threat. It is still raising bloody flesh to its jaw as my blade slashes through its face. Without strain, a portion of its skull falls to the ground before it realizes anything is wrong.

Seemingly aware that something is wrong, the remaining three raise their heads toward me.

'Shit!' I take a few steps backward and give myself some breathing room.

My knife would suffice if I faced them one-on-one, but a small crowd opened the possibility of failure. I am unwilling to take a risk, so I drop my knife to the ground.

The metal clangs against the street below as I shift my shoulder to slide my rifle from its sling. With one smooth motion, I bring it in front of my body and raise it toward the group before me.

A single breath escapes my lungs as I line up my first target. With the squeeze of the trigger, a simultaneous bloom of brain matter and blood appear behind the slow-moving zombie. The explosion from the round being fired rings through the air as the faint smell of gunpowder overwhelms the rotting aroma surrounding the area.

The two remaining threats shuffled forward as if nothing happened before I was able to realign my sight picture and release two more rounds from my newest friend.

The first corpse collides with the ground as the insides of the final zombie scatter across the street. Smoke trickles from the barrel of my weapon as I remain in position, watching the last one fall.

'So, is this just going to draw even more of them and create another super soldier?' I lower my rifle and stare at the five additional corpses at my feet.

This is a terrible cycle.

I pull my shirt over my nose and observe what remains of the giant corpse. With it ripped open and ravaged by the new zombies, it is impossible to tell what it once was as it was torn nearly inside out.

The zombies seemed to eat the flesh and inner organs of the colossal creature, but they showed no signs of being full. I can only conclude that it was used as fuel to further their evolution.

I think back to the lanky, bladed freak in my alley. If the police officer discovers him, I could have a new threat on my hands if I attempt to return.

With a sense of resolve, I return to the convenience store behind me.

I'm not entirely confident it will work, but I search the destroyed shelves for any remnants of flammable products. Unfortunately, All of the rubbing alcohol seems to have been looted.

As an alternative, I find glass jars full of pickles. It takes a few moments to open them and empty their contents, but eventually, I'm successful. A dehumidifier in the store room has a hose attached, which I promptly repossess and throw over my shoulder.

The counter is destroyed. It seems like people attacked the cigarettes as soon as the apocalypse started and had no consideration for the surrounding area. Papers, cash, and donuts are thrown everywhere, covering the floor completely.

'There it is!' My foot makes a thud and reveals a bright plastic display I recognize from before the world went to shit. A few disposable lighters hide under the plastic display and quickly find themselves in my pocket.

'I hope it still has fuel…' My eyes dart to the old car that was once thrown through the window.

With a hop, I slide over the sales counter and exit the store, making a straight line for the bright red vehicle abandoned on the side of the street.

It isn't long before I pop the gas tank open and shove the hose inside. Three large pickle jars sit on the ground below me with their lids piled neatly beside them. I place my lips on the hose and taste the gasoline fumes as they exit the rubber hose.

Using my most vigorous breath, I blow into the hose, and a rush of fuel reaches my lips.

Moving my head to the side, I repeatedly spit as I direct the flowing gasoline into the jars in front of me. They quickly overflow before I slide the end of the hose into the following containers. Eventually, I have three full jars of gasoline.

I pull the hose from the gas tank and gently put the lid on the jars, careful not to spill any of the precious resource.

"Let's see if this makes a difference." I rise to my feet, jars in hand, and head back toward the former battlefield.