A Small Loss and The Need of Something Expended

Its yawning mouth filled my vision, its rubbery lips squelching along the outer edge of my pinkie, its teeth unexpectedly, savagely sharp.

With a cry of revulsion I tore my arm away in an arc, falling backwards as the hand holding the rifle convulsed. The creature’s skull unfolded like a macabre lotus expelling sputum and gristle.

My wound bled openly, black in the moonlight. I had reconciled with my inevitable death, but not now, not like this! Oh god. I pressed my hand against the ground and placed the barrel of my rifle flush against the base of my pinkie. The zombie trapped in the car gurgled at me. I screamed. At the bag of bone and guts on the ground, in the car, at myself, at everything, and pulled the trigger.

The pain lit up my world and I came to with my cheek against the cool dew, drinking in the sound of grass rustling. Remembering where I was, I staggered to my feet, cradling my hand. The finger dangled on a thin sliver of skin.

I was surrounded, with not even one bullet left.

For myself.

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