Living Dead- Ow, my Perineum

  She reared back as if she were still on the Detroit Cristo Rey High School softball team and swung the latch bar with all her strength.

  The direct hit to the right side of the specialist’s head sent the concussion through her shoulder and down the bones of her spine. The sailor’s head struck his left shoulder with a gruesome crack. One of the visible vertebrae popped like a knuckle, his neck likely broken. He collapsed into the lap of the red-shirt.

  Twisted from the swing, Jenny faced a new direction and a man trying to crawl away from three sailors munching on his leg, shoulder, and scalp. Everywhere she looked, it got worse: a pilot unloading his pistol into the chest of a sailor at a two-foot range, six shots that did nothing to dim the white want in the sailor’s eyes.

  She heard a scream. There were dozens, but this one was beside her. Jenny swiveled to find the fallen red-shirt right where she’d left him. Despite its broken-neck paralysis, the specialist’s head was snapping its jaws in the red-shirt’s lap. More, the gored body beneath the red-shirt had quivered to life and was chewing through the red-shirt’s perineum. The red-shirt wailed. A dark rope of blood spurted from his crotch, spattering across the head’s happily chattering teeth.

- The Living Dead, chapter: Controlled Crash