The Fall (Book 5): Exodus in Black by Joshua Guess Page B

sleep for the next week,” Kell said, easing himself into a crouch Sweat still coated his face, but only in a thin layer. No amount of drinking had been able to replace the water he’d lost from so much activity. “I think we’re going to drain the tanks tonight. Hopefully we’ll…”
    “Multiple contacts!” screamed a voice from atop the van they used as a watch post. “Moving in fast!”
    Kell bolted to his feet and was rewarded with a mild wave of dizziness. Every cell in his body begged for rest, food, and water.
    Groans filled the air all around, turning to curses and not a few muffled sobs as the enemy appeared.
    A dozen New Breed streaked forward at breakneck speed, too fast for the tired defenders to react perfectly. Most of them made it over the barricades at, Kell noticed, carefully chosen spots that were particularly low to the ground.
    Juan and Kelsey backed away as the closest New Breed barreled toward them, setting themselves for combat.
    Kell had had just about enough of this shit.
    “I want a fucking nap!” he screamed. It wasn’t the best war cry, but was probably the most honest. Costing him an effort that felt ripped from his bones, Kell forced himself into a fiddly, difficult maneuver that required grace.
    His left foot shot forward while his right remained planted. He rocked with it like a fencer, his torso shifting down and ahead. Timing was crucial, and Kell nailed it. His legs were going to hate him in the morning. Then again, maybe he’d just die. That would be nice.
    The New Breed was too close and moving too fast when Kell dropped into this weird, crab-like lunge. Momentum carried the dead man into his grasp, though not for long.
    Kell hooked an arm between its legs and pushed up and back as hard as he could, flinging the dead man over his head entirely. The New Breed were smart—smart enough to shepherd an entire swarm of zombies at the bunker to wear out its defenders, akin to tenderizing meat—and fast. They had coordination on par with an average living human.
    But even normal people didn’t tend to react well to being treated like the stone tucked into the business end of a catapult. The zombie came down with a meaty crack, already scrambling to rise to its feet when Kelsey stomped on its neck so Juan could deliver the killing blow.
    Kell lumbered forward, too tired to dip into the reservoir of fury he always carried around as survival fuel. The strain of the day prevented him from moving with the deliberation he’d have needed to kill with single strikes.
    So he didn’t.
    Instead he waded into the smaller but devilishly fierce newcomers and didn’t concern himself with killing them at all. He saw Andrea on her back, arms and legs tangled with the crouching New Breed trying to slam her brains into the pavement. She was intensely focused, using her limbs to hold off the attacker. Not many people had the talent and presence of mind to use Jiu-Jitsu on a zombie, but the slim woman managed it without apparent effort.
    Still, Kell helped her along by kicking in the side of the zombie’s right knee as he walked by.
    “Thanks,” Andrea said. “I got it now.”
    “No problem,” Kell mumbled.
    The next zombie was being held off by constant blows from baseball bats, batons, and other blunt objects. The four people trying to avoid being mauled couldn’t quite get past its tight defense. It was easy to protect your head with your arms if you were already dead and didn’t care how much damage your arms took.
    Kell walked up behind it and drove an elbow into its lower back. The blow knocked the zombie forward, hands instinctively coming away to regain balance. Kincaid was one of the group, and swung his baseball bat down in a brutal overhead arc. He winked at Kell.
    He moved on to the next.

Mason
     
     
     
    One of Mason’s first instructors insisted there were only two types of combat. Mason disagreed. When asked by one of the many psychiatrists required to examine him why, his