Sunday afternoon, 4:30 pm
Hillary lunged at Britney and Britney stepped out of the way, back-handing her at the base of her neck with the wooden club. Hillary hit the ground again, but stood back up without delay. The trickles of rain turned to a downpour, so heavy that the trees of the woods couldn’t keep it out. And as they stood facing each other, eyeing up their adversary like two Brahma bulls, lightning struck in the distance.
A sense of pride took Britney over and she became the aggressor. It was no longer about self-defense. That type of mentality would only lead to death. Stepping forward, she swung the club – connecting with side of Hillary’s head and knocking her down. Standing over her body, Britney swung the club again, this time cracking her jaw and dislocating it. Hillary wouldn’t be biting anyone.
Raising the club again, she delivered a blow to Hillary’s left temple and then another one to her jaw. Hillary turned over onto her stomach, trying to crawl away. But Britney brought the club down on the back of Hillary’s skull, flipping her back over and raising the club again to jab it down into her eyes.
But then Britney stopped, not for the sake of feeling pity or remorse. Rather, she realized that beating the daylights out of Hillary would only lead to exhaustion – not to Hillary’s death. And it would draw Britney no closer to Monday morning. In fact, it might weaken her.
Holding that club in the air, Britney gazed down at Hillary with a sudden vision of horrific nature.
She imagined that help actually arrived on Monday morning. But when they got out of the vehicles, they were attacked. Unaware of anything having happened there and not surprised to have received no texts or phone calls since one of the main points of the weekend was to disconnect from the world, the much-needed rescuers would be attacked and turned into more drones in the waddling dead collective.
Maybe Monday morning wouldn’t be the end of anything. Instead, maybe Monday morning would be the beginning of something much worse than what that weekend had already been.
Britney then made her boldest decision of that weekend yet. She lowered the wood club and readied herself for a bit of pain that would certainly be more excruciating than anything she had ever felt. She knew she couldn’t kill Hillary, aside from peeing on her. But if she did that, then the perfect bait for Ursula would be gone.
Standing there, she awaited the first return blow from Hillary and in short order, Hillary sat up – punching Britney in the stomach and knocking the wind out of her. Britney bent over from the strike, Hillary delivering another blow between her legs. Hillary may have been a zombie, but she was still female and she knew exactly how and where to punch a girl to produce the maximum amount of pain.
Britney whimpered and bent over further. Hillary grabbed the front of her throat and tossed her over into the mud. Curling up in the fetal position, Britney tried to recover from the blows. But there was no way to lessen such pain that didn’t require at least a minimum amount of time that she didn’t have just then.
Hillary stood up and began to hobble over in Britney’s direction, Britney slowly crawling away from her. The rain just kept downpouring, heavier and heavier it seemed. The heat of the day was gone and the slimy feel of the mud began to chill Britney as she slid through it. The nature trail was banked on one side with a small inclining hill. This only made the trail that much muddier as water rushed down the side.
With her one good foot, Hillary stomped down on the center of Britney’s back, pinning her to the muddy ground. Then Hillary leaned over and grabbed the back of her head, forcing her face into the mud. Britney flailed, trying to break free from the suffocation. In a last-ditch effort, Britney swiped her right leg back – knocking Hillary to the ground. Britney then got to her feet quickly and readied to swing back.
But Hillary stopped advancing towards her. It was as if she was suddenly filled with confusion. She searched for Britney, looking right at her but not seeing her. Britney wondered if this was how Ursula communicated with them. Perhaps Hillary was receiving some sort of message just then from her sorority nemesis.
Regardless of what the reason was for Hillary’s hesitance, Britney didn’t waste any time in capitalizing on it. Swinging her fists, she connected with Hillary’s face – trying to further dislocate her jaw and marveling over the fact that Hillary wasn’t defending herself at all.
Getting little damage done, Britney looked around for another branch to use as a club. Finding one behind her, she turned around to pick it up. And that was when Hillary attacked again.
Ferociously, she pummeled Britney back down into the mud, kicking the girl in the ribs with a broken ankle before grabbing her by the hair and tossing her into the mud puddle. Britney landed face first in the mud, but turned over quickly – the rain suddenly letting up.
And once again, Hillary stopped dead in her tracks – seemingly lost as to where Britney had gotten to. Not reacting this time, Britney remained in that puddle of water – more interested in knowing why Hillary kept stopping the fight than continuing it herself.
It suddenly became as if Hillary was selectively blind, seeing everything in front of her except for the muddy girl she had been fighting. Hillary looked left and right, then turning around and walking back towards main camp.
Britney sat up in the puddle.
What just happened? Where was Hillary going? Why had she stopped attacking again and why was she now leaving? Had Ursula somehow summoned all the waddling dead together just then?
Standing up, she looked at herself – still not knowing why Hillary walked away. No other zombies were advancing on her, none that she could see in the woods. Then the thought hit her, a theory at least – but one that was highly unlikely. Then again, it was highly unlikely that this weekend retreat would turn into a zombie fest. But it did.
Taking her drenched diaper off, she sat back down in the puddle. Cupping her hands in the muddy water, she splashed it on her face. Then she stood up and began walking in the direction of main camp. This was crazy. It was such a bad idea, it wasn’t funny. But if it worked, then Britney would have an even greater upper-hand in the situation. Still, the risk could be fatal for her, if she was wrong.
Walking out of the nature trail, she passed by the closest cabin, looking in the windows and searching for the zombies – for a nice change of events. Then she spotted several of them in the center of the open field, walking around ambiguously underneath the observation deck. And with steady, even strides, Britney walked over to them – making no noise. But oh my. Her little heart was pounding in her chest. This was crazy. What was she doing?
Britney walked right up to them, but didn’t look any of them in the eyes. Instead, she milled about – just as they did … with no emotions displayed. It was almost as if she was a zombie herself, but without the virus. She saw several of them trying to push the rainwater off their gray scale-like skin. Several of them even paused in their movements and began to look around. But none of them saw her. It was as if she was truly invisible.
After a few minutes of this, Britney then walked away from them – heading to the pool house to see if the Eclectics had taken up shelter there. Passing by the windows of that first cabin, she looked at her reflection.
Covered head to toe with mud, she smiled. At one point, she couldn’t find a place to hide where she could stay away from the zombies and be safe. Now, she was able to walk amongst them, detected by them but invisible to them.
But Britney had not intentions of playing around with the zombies. Instead, she had a plan to beat them at their own game. And this was the missing piece she never knew she was looking for.
The zombies couldn’t see through mud. But could Ursula see through it?
Continue on to Episode 25
……………….. The ABDL Twisted Books