Read Zombie Bitches From Hell for Free Online

on them. The barrier slows them down but the bullets do very
little. It’s still mostly dark so the flares from the muzzles looks
like flashbulbs. Tim takes aim and I stop him.
    “This battle is not ours anymore. Don’t waste
your ammo. We got a long way to go.”
    He looks at me and nods but still keeps the
rifle at hand. MG is wagging his tale like he’s expecting
breakfast. I manage a smile at his dumb face.
    “Release the line,” says Rick.
    I unhook the grillion from the loop guard and
toss the rope to the ground. Rick hits full fire-up and the sound
of that flame is like an atomic blast. Even the bitches stop in
their tracks. The guys all turn and look up like maybe the Avenging
Angels have descended from the heavens. But, no, it’s just us
running like rabbits for pastures unknown. One of the soldiers
yells, “You traitors, motherfuckers!” and fires at us. We duck and
he misses because the balloon is rising so fast and gets picked up
by a mountain up-current so quickly that only an experienced hunter
could hit us. We’re all knocked to the sides of the gondola and
even MG is flat on his ass quietly whimpering. I stand up and look
over the edge with Tim. The sun has risen and the entire hilltop is
illuminated in broad Rocky Mountain daylight.
    The swarm is at the fence and the electricity
is doing its thing. The bitches grab the fence and smoke streams
out of their hands and their hair catches on fire. Large globs of
the black ooze spill out as their faces burst open and the bullets
fly through their dead flesh. (We learned much later on that the
only way to kill a GaGa bitch is to shoot her ovaries. Either
through the belly or through the back. I had seen Mrs. Fark and
Hannah die in this way but I didn’t know then why and can only
guess now. Eggs? The source of the double X chromosome? My biology
is probably fucked up so don’t hold me to it.) And things
change.
    The moaning and screaming is filling the air.
MG is huddled at my feet as we float over the scene below. The
circle that was our “fortress” is completely surrounded by the
swarm. At the northern end, where the fence has a slight break in
it to accommodate a huge boulder sticking out of the rockface, the
fence collapses and the bitches pour through. From the air it’s a
narrow breach but our guys just can’t handle the flood. The
shooting almost stops as the ammo gives out—I think—or the guys
just instinctively start to run. But where can they run to? There
is no cave, no shelter, not even a goddamned tree to climb. Some
make it back to the generator shed which has smoke coming out of it
but the bitches are on top of them. A new kind of screaming weaves
its way through the desert air to us up in our balloon.
    It’s the sound of men being eaten alive. I
can see the soldiers punching and swinging their rifles at the
bitches but the sheer number of them is overwhelming. As the men
fall, the bitches go first for the dick and balls, ripping off the
pants with nails and teeth and pulling the meat out with a
stretching yank. Red blood is lapped at like cats at a milk-filled
saucer. The balls are fought over, dicks chewed from both ends, the
bitches ending up face to face, lip to lip. Then the men’s faces
and necks when the screaming stops and finally the pulling open of
the belly, intestines dragged out like rope uncoiling, the little
girls fighting over the shit-filled tubes because the bigger
bitches are getting the good parts. Two guys come running from the
tech shed with machetes and they’re hacking away as if they are in
some deep part of the Amazon rain forest and are chopping their way
through the undergrowth. But this is not vegetation; it is a swarm
of mostly third stage GaGa bitches, ravenous as piranhas, numerous
as flies on a buffalo carcass in the Sahara. The machete boys make
a good go of it, bitches’ heads flying off, tits being split open,
guts oozing with the black coagulant that the bitches are full of.
But in no time,