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Rated: GC · Interactive · Action/Adventure · #1748874
Five more survivors face the undead.
This choice: Readers Choice  •  Go Back...
Chapter #4

Readers Choice - Occam's Gamble & Crowley's Razor

    by: Unknown
Jack swore, he saw the ghost of Elvis that moment! The rotten bunch which had ganged-up on him in the Palace was still all eager to brawl'n'bite Jack to death. Yet something happened that moment. It felt like the Devil itself had re-spun the wheel of fortune. Zombies had hunger and dark magic on their side. Film heroes had guns to shoot zombies in the head. All Jack had before, was the chance for a most unwelcome gruesome death. Not anymore!

The wheel was turning and the dice were rolling. “Maybe the Reaper did send his sissies, yet now the God of gamblers has brought in me!” Jack thought to encourage himself.

He threw one more bottle into the face of one of the rotting punks encircling him. One swift scan through the room, so he an estimation of how long they would need to reach him. And then he faced the closest of the Bitches, the one which had tried to get behind the bar on its open side.

“Come here, Rotmouth! Daddy has some fine extra sugar for you, bitch!”

The Zombie seemed not impressed at all by those words. It was a notch more impressed by the brutal kick Jack unleashed into its stomach though. Before it crumbled in, Jack had already grabbed its head, given a face-smash upon the bar and a neck-break to finish it off.

Surviving Mini-Vegas, years on the streets and the boredom of all those hotel rooms had left plenty of time to see those martial arts workouts on TV and practice them, along with some housewife yoga, whenever Jack needed to make himself tired enough to sleep. Finally that waste of time proved itself to be an investment after all.

Two Zombies, obviously smart enough to cooperate jumped towards Jack. Jack spun around, quick steps backwards to make his next move. The World Wrestling Federation would have cheered in Jack's personal opinion!

Jack clawed the heads of the two jumpers and smacked them against each other as brutal as he could. Death-Defiance shining from his eyes and a logic-banning grin upon his lips. He knew it! The Zombies took a test-bite off each other, damn gluttons among cannibals.

Jack withdrew to the closest table, knowing time was running out. He turned a table upside down, kicked-free one of the table legs and readied his makeshift weapon. Smacky bash into rotten face one, even more smacking bash into rotten face two. Finally a stab through the eye of the first jumper driving forcefully into the brain.

Jack kicked another table-leg free. He had a plan now, one option out without being a walking corpse. Yet for now three more zombies were eager to get him. They never took time to mourn their losses.

The second former jumper lost his right eye when jack smashed his skull from the side. But the rotten punk did not rise up. Jack had no other choice at hand, he kicked one of the zombies' legs away and clobbered it down. Then he impaled its skull by driving the table-leg in with all the force he could muster.

The adrenal rush was fading off and jack felt exertion of his muscles and truth be mentioned, some fear. He would have given much to... No! He DID this to ever sit in a comfortable casino again and smile for knowing, that the best prostitute of the service awaited him in his hotel suite.

He readied the two remaining table legs and moved back, buying himself some time to breath. Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris, which meant the remaining two zombies, were too sure of their Shaolin Mumbo Jumbo. Neither the Jeet Kune do of Zombie one, nor the Karate of Zombie two made them immune to the brutal bashes of Jack's makeshift weapons.

“Come on Sissypussies, I will make you an offer which you cannot deny!” Jack had never worked so hard in his entire life. Taking out the zombies was the heaviest test of stamina and conviction which he ever had to pass.

When he had finally clobbered them down and when their heads were impaled, Jack checked each Zombie once more to be certain they pose no more threat!

It was time for a drink now and Jack made two handier bottles glide into his jacket. Whiskey on Ice was a heresy to some, yet in that moment Jack could have not cared any less.


Where will this story go next? Your choices are below...





You have the following choices:

*Noteb*
1. Jack ventures forth...

*Noteb*
2. Jack dies of heart-failure...

*Noteb*
3. Jack turns the music on and stays a bit longer...

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