Frenzied Flight of the Femmes Fatale by DS Barbee (different e readers txt) 📖

their numbers, there just weren’t enough bullets to cure them all.

The whoosh of helicopter blades in the distance dismayed Emily. Why were the Soldier’s so intent on killing them? “We have company Princess, just keep driving,” she called to the front. The blinding searchlight of the helicopter violated the serenity of the night sky.

“I cannot make this truck fly! Oh Emily we shall surely die,” the princess shouted.

Emily fired at the metal menace hovering over them. At least the infected birds aren’t attacking anymore. Emily thought. Those things had been nasty before their twisted creator snuffed them out.

Despite her best efforts, the princess would not be able to lose the helicopter. The .50 cal .offered their greatest hope but the helicopter stayed directly over them, making it difficult to hit. Four trench-coat-toting Hunters rappelled from the helicopter. She couldn’t believe the fearless fools dared rappel at this speed. Emily ground two of them to pieces. The helicopter sank low and shot ahead of the Humvee, letting the two remaining Hunters and half a dozen Soldiers jump out directly in front of them. “Get down!” Emily warned, before sheltering herself in the cab. She strapped her seatbelt a breath before the Humvee crashed into the crowd of Soldiers and flipped into a wild tumbling roll.

The world spun around them in slow motion. Windows shattered. The disjointed screams of the princess mixed with screeching metal. Emily’s limbs raggedly jerked and danced, crashing into the door or bending in unnatural angles when nothing stopped their momentum.

Finally, everything stopped.

Emily’s whole body hurt. She examined herself. The crash bruised Emily, but it didn’t break her. The shuddering and bawling of the princess tore at Emily. “Princess!” Emily called, “Princess! Are you hurt?”

“Death would bring peace, but I shan’t seek its seductive release,” the princess choked.

“Just tell me if you can walk,” Emily groaned. The way the princess’ people talked grated her nerves sometimes. If Emily was honest with herself, she would have to confess she found the princess' mannerisms adorable. Not that she would ever admit it, but that didn't make it any less true.

“Not nearly so well as I can endlessly talk, but yes I am able to walk,” the girl tried to joke.

Emily and the princess struggled to get out of the mangled vehicle. The hisses and shrieks of the Ragers surrounded them. Emily screamed with indignation. A Rager wouldn’t snuff her out! Gun-in-hand, she forced herself out the shattered window. She greeted the first Rager, a wrinkled nun, with a close-up shotgun blast to the neck, vaporizing the putrid flesh, and sending its sneering head rolling down the street. Two others slammed Emily back against the Humvee, knocking her gun to the ground and gnashing their yellow teeth at her neck. She kicked one away then grabbed the other, a teenaged girl, and snapped its neck, killing it instantly. She cured the former with a Beretta round between the eyes.

More came.

She picked her rifle up and splattered two more all over herself with the shotgun. She tried to show a third back to hell the same way, but the pump action produced a disappointing click rather than an earsplitting bang. Out of ammo. She smacked the Rager in the nose instead, sending it reeling backward before planting a machine gun bullet in its fetid face. Emily pushed the horde back with the machine gun until it too ran out of ammo.

More came.

Emily threw the gun down and drew the short-swords. Shambling masses of Ragers sprinted toward them. This battle would be over quick if they didn’t move. It was time to arrange some meetings with the reaper. Emily spun her blades and rushed to meet the horde.

“Fire in the hull!” the princess grunted behind her. Then a grenade arced over Emily and into the charging crowd. The princess threw another close behind. Emily abruptly changed course and took cover behind a broken bus. A bone-jarring boom shook the earth spewing Rager bits everywhere. Emily darted from the cover of the bus to sever and slash the surviving abominations with her short-swords. The path ahead was clear, for now.

Emily wiped the zombie sludge tarnishing her short-swords onto the clothes of the carcasses and sheathed her blades. The princess strapped the bag over her shoulder then ran to Emily, and picked up her rifle. The girl’s trembling fingers loaded a new clip before pushing the gun back into Emily’s hand.

Hosts of ambling bodies clogged the horizon on all sides. “We need to get inside.” Emily announced, clasping the princess’ hand and sprinting toward a hardware store down the road. The menacing growl of infected wolves sent a gush of fear pulsing through her. Emily drew her machine pistol. Hellish red eyes shone between them and the store door.

The wolves, still snarling, slinked from the shadows. Foam and slobber dripped from their exposed fangs and the pack of six, six-and-half if you counted the wolf that had grown a second head, deliberately surrounded them. The wolves’ pre-infection pack hunting instincts were hardcoded deep enough to protect them from infection. Emily found herself wondering if infected beavers would still built dams. Would woodchucks still chuck wood? The growls closed in. If the wolves flanked them it was over. Rager shrieks trumpeted the inevitable arrival of the hissing hordes hunting them.

The princess took a shot at two-heads. The wolf shifted left and the pack lunged after them. The damn dogs always dodged. Emily squeezed off four rounds before two-heads jumped on top of her, bringing her roughly to the ground. Thankfully, she'd to put a bullet into the left head, which now hung limp. The yellow teeth of the other head snapped an inch from Emily's skin, spraying foul hot mist at her face, while she pushed back against the scabbed skin and matted fur of its neck.

The princess screamed at the remaining two wolves biting into her arms in a gruesome tug of war. Emily freed one of her hands, grabbed her belt knife and gutted two-heads from rectum to ribs. Shoving its carcass aside, she rose and plunged the knife into the hips of the wolf nearest to her. The demon-hound released the princess and launched at Emily. Emily used the wolf’s momentum to shove its head into the dirty brick wall behind them, cracking its neck before it landed in a twitching heap.

Emily moved her attention to the last wolf, furiously thrashing the princess’ arm between its teeth. Anger flowered inside the Emily. That mutt was going to die! Emily stepped over the princess and tore at the wolf’s disgusting throat. The most rotten patches of flesh gave way to her fingers while she squeezed and twisted at its esophagus. The crazed animal released its grip from the princess and gaped at Emily with bulging eyes in its fruitless struggle for air. Emily threw the nasty beast aside once its tongue dangled loosely out the side of its mouth.

Emily wiped the gore from her hands and pulled the princess up. Then she grabbed their guns, jerked the girl close and rushed toward the hardware store door.

“Did the wolves get past your Kevlar princess?”

The princess didn’t respond.

Emily twisted the handle. Locked. The flesh lust of the Rager pack intensified their hissing to screeching sirens. Emily popped the nearest’s heads into shattered melon with her berretta then slipped a round into the shotgun and breached the door.

Emily’s stomach churned at the wave of aged stench spilling out of the store. She slammed the door behind them. Emily’s eyes scanned the darkness cloaking the sloppy slurps and crunches nearby. Apparently, not all of the death stink was old. The princess’ flashlight clicked and illuminated a group of Ragers hunched over a corpse in the middle of the floor. Emily smothered the princess’ screams with her palm. Some shot angry mildew-eyed glares at them, but most focused their energy on shoveling more innards in their mouths.

“They’re feeding princess,” Emily whispered to the quaking girl, “They won’t care about us until they’re done.” Emily shoved a new clip in her berretta and ended the Rager fancy feast. Emily’s ears picked up footsteps much too close for comfort. She braced against the door but the impact of the bodies slamming into the thick wood nearly threw her to the floor. Emily pushed more rounds into her shotgun.

“The darkness is victorious,” the princess bawled, “We shall perish in a palace of pain.”

The door groaned under the pressure of putrid people pounding against it. “Princess, shut your mouth and get those two by fours and a hammer and nails,” Emily shouted. She poked her shotgun through the hole where the door handle used to be and unloaded.

The princess bawling didn’t wane in the least degree but she complied with Emily’s orders. Emily erased some more ugly with another barrelful of buckshot then she and the princess secured the door and reloaded their guns.

“That door won’t hold forever,” Emily stated. “We have to keep moving. We need another vehicle. Do you remember how to hot-wire cars?” Emily asked.

“Death will be the sweetest part of our fate. They will tear our flesh from our bones while we live?” the princess shivered then shifted her grieved gaze to her protector, “Fear consumes me Emily.”

Emily gathered the princess in a tight one-armed hug. The princess slipped her quivering arms around Emily’s waist, letting out a strangled sob against her shoulder. Emily pushed back a little and looked at the girl who represented everything good in life. She wished she could take away the horror dancing in the princess’ blazing blue eyes. Emily picked a few chunks of glistening zombie meat off the princess’ cheek. She probably should have wiped those away before hugging her poor girl. Oops.

“We will not give up! We will fight, we will kill, and we will win! Do you understand that Princess?” Emily demanded, “We will win!”

“I understand,” the princess trembled.

“Say it with me princess. Fight! Kill! Win! Fight! Kill! Win! FIGHT! KILL! WIN!” Emily chanted shouting the last.

The princess joined in, “FIGHT! KILL! WIN! FIGHT! KILL! WIN!”

Continuing the battle cry, Emily drew her swords and led the charge out the back door and into the city street, lined by multi-story business buildings, where they engaged in gritty hand-to-hand combat with the Ragers.

The helicopter’s spotlight shone down on them. The princess holstered her gun and drew her knife, “FIGHT!” she screamed sheathing it in the ear of an obese male in dirty denim overalls. “KILL!” she cried, ripping the blade from its head and jamming it in the back of a skinny woman’s skull before it could sink its teeth into Emily. “WIN!” Tearing it out of the skinny lady, she swung to plunge it into the nearest Rager, a boy of about 12.

The princess hesitated and the boy Rager tackled her, followed by six others, burying her in a morbid dog pile. Emily watched helplessly as she fought against a muscular Rager pressing its foul body to her and gobbling at her throat. Emily thrust her blade up its double chin and out the top of its head, and then moved to aid the princess. She split all seven soft skulls with surgical precision in less than twenty seconds before, sheathing her slimed swords and scooping up the weeping princess.

The princess’ Kevlar suit would have protected her vital parts from bleeding, but bites still left bruises. And nothing could shield the princess from the emotional trauma. This night would intensify poor princess’s plague of perpetual nightmares. Sorrow and sympathy nearly brought Emily to tears, but she put off her emotions. They didn’t have time for any of that now. She lugged the princess to a Ford F-450 service truck, bashed the window open with her rifle, and opened the door.

“Hot-wire it princess,” Emily ordered, decapitating two more hissing human husks, “I will hold off the Ragers. Hurry!”

The princess pulled herself together and climbed in the truck. Armies of Ragers encompassed them. Emily thinned them out with the machine gun. She