The Mutant's Arm
I'd talked a big game, but the truth was the situation hadn't improved one bit.
Thud thud thud thud!
All the damage that bastard had taken was just the axe lodged in its knee. Me? One graze from its attack and my whole body was throbbing so hard I wanted to drop right then and there.
If the helmet had at least been intact, maybe. I'd fallen wrong somehow; one side of it was caved in, crushing down on my skull until I had no choice but to yank it off. The heat spreading across my scalp told me something up there was split open.
"Kyaaaaak!"
That long-armed zombie still looked fine even with an axe buried in its knee? No—its speed had clearly dropped compared to before, but that was about the extent of it. Which meant there was zero chance of me running in the wrecked state I was in.
Whoosh—!
"Hup!"
At least the long-armed zombie's attacks had obvious tells, clear enough to track. If it had been able to thrash those massively oversized arms around at full speed with no warning, it would have been a living nightmare.
Thwack!
"Kiiik—"
"You fucking..."
I ducked low under its arm and brought my machete down hard, but far from cutting through, the blade just sank in the same way the axe had—nearly getting me killed for the effort.
That density. Muscle density, I guess you call it. Other parts of it might take wounds, but the way the muscle was packed into that arm went way beyond any design a land-dwelling creature should have.
Crunch.
See that? After I strained to wrench the machete free and put some distance between us, the muscles at the wound site writhed and wrapped over the cut, knitting it shut. Regenerating.
"Regeneration? You son of a bitch!"
I shouted it at the thing, packing every ounce of resentment and rage I had into the words. Of course it couldn't understand a thing I said, but I didn't give a damn and kept pouring curses its way.
"I'm over here barely hanging on by a thread, land one decent hit, and you fucking regenerate it? Super strength, regeneration, mutation—are you kidding me?!"
"Kirrrrk—"
My head was starting to pound. Whether from the blood loss or pure heat rising off that cheat-code bullshit, one thing was certain: I was worked up as hell right now.
They say adrenaline dumps kill the pain. Maybe that was why the throbbing in my skull was finally settling, leaving only the shape of that long-armed zombie burned sharp and clear across my retinas.
Twitching muscle. One eye gone, the empty socket giving a glimpse of red skull underneath. Tall and lanky, a grotesque build that looked like every scrap of nutrient had been poured into that single swinging arm.
The speed itself was slow—but who knew if deforming the arm further might crank it up. I was running the invincible close-range strategy, but thanks to its height my machete couldn't reach the head.
If I can just reach the head, I can kill it.
Mutants aren't completely invincible. Aim for the head and they die the same as anything else. Maybe that was why every last one of them came built tall... If I couldn't reach it, I'd just make that bastard come down to me.
Whoosh—!
"Kiyaak!"
This time the arm swung up from below like it was scooping. Those razor-shaped fingers would shred my anti-stab vest like paper if they caught me—but I charged even deeper into its reach instead.
"Get cut already!"
The blade-like hand grazed past. My shoulder brushed it and pain ripped through as flesh tore free along with the coat I was wearing. Even so I planted my foot and drove a kick straight into its thin knee.
Thud!
Even with the axe already in it, the density was so absurd it didn't even sway—just ate the impact. My kick alone was never going to do real damage, but I hadn't thrown it for damage. I'd thrown it with weight behind it, like I was trying to shove.
Crack!
"Kagagak!"
My kick drove the buried axe the rest of the way through from behind and completely severed the knee. Its body swayed. No way a zombie was keeping proper balance after that—it toppled forward and went down hard.
"Hoo... hoo... fucking stings..."
Left shoulder torn open. Not completely ripped off—the steel plating had saved that much—just some flesh gone, but it was bleeding. In a world where real medicine was already gone, a wound like this with no way to stop infection...
"How's it feel missing a limb too, you piece of shit?!"
"Kiyaaaaak!!"
My shout, thick with pure grievance, drew an answering roar that sounded just as full of rage.
The thing tried several times to rise from its crouch but couldn't find its center. Then it turned its head toward me and let out a scream that raised every hair on my body.
Boom!
"That crazy—!"
Maybe switching from biped to triped out of nowhere had pissed it off. It slammed that massive arm into the ground and used the raw power to hurl its entire body at me like a projectile.
Thud!!
"Guh..!!"
The unexpected stunt cost me the reaction time. I'd figured going from two legs to three would slow it down, but maybe I'd underestimated its intelligence.
Thump! Thud! Whack!
It couldn't balance midair, so I didn't get skewered by the hand—I took a full body slam instead. Its mass alone was more than enough. I couldn't hold. I slid, tumbled, and only stopped when my back smashed into a pillar.
"Guhhk.. cough cough! Kuek!!"
I couldn't get a proper breath. Years ago I'd taken one clean shot to the solar plexus and felt my lungs lock up exactly like this. Never thought I'd taste it again.
Every cough brought up spit mixed with blood. My head was spinning from the impact, but lying still and waiting for it to pass wasn't an option.
"Uek! Kek! Ahh.. fuck"
I couldn't even wipe the mess off. I staggered upright with my back against the pillar. Hands and feet shaking hard—but the muscles were locked so tight from tension that I hadn't dropped the machete. Maybe that counted as luck.
Is it really luck?
Real luck would've meant never meeting this bastard in the first place, I scolded myself, and turned my eyes on the long-armed zombie as it finished fixing its stance.
"Kiii..!!"
The zombie tore its mouth wide, planted hand and feet on the floor, and howled straight at me. It still wasn't used to moving on three limbs. My body was wrecked too, but...
"We're fellow one-limbed bros now, so what? Feeling cheated?"
I'd gone and inducted the cute little newbie into the Super One-Armed Manly Man Club, and instead of recognizing its senior it was already pulling a mutiny. Motivation to put it down was overflowing.
Thud-thud! Boom!!
Despite the mismatched arms, the long-armed zombie broke into an awkward gallop and charged. Same as before—it raised that massive arm, slammed the ground, and launched itself at me.
Razor-edged fingers this time, hand wide open, coming in a dead straight line like it was announcing it wouldn't miss—no more clumsy body checks.
"Hup..!"
"Kiik!!"
Bang!!
Still just a zombie. It couldn't course-correct in midair, so rolling a little off its flight path made the dodge easy. Right behind me stood the same pillar that had caught me earlier.
The long-armed zombie drove its head straight into solid stone instead of me.
"Haa.. huff..! Looking real good!"
Earlier I'd taken the hit helpless because I never saw that stunt coming. This? I wasn't so far gone I couldn't react to something right in front of me.
"Kiyaaaaak!!"
Crunch, grind—
Even while it couldn't control its body from the impact, it crushed the chunk of pillar clutched in its hand without mercy. Truly absurd strength, but...
Thrust!!
"Kyaak!!"
Slamming into the pillar had brought it right up next to me, and while it was still reeling there was more than enough time to strike. My machete sank into the long-armed zombie's one remaining eyeball. Body too wrecked for real power, but bursting a soft eye didn't take much force.
"Kagagagak!"
Whoosh!! Whoosh!!
If the blade buried in the eye could have reached the brain that would have been perfect, but its monstrous muscle density seemed to armor even the skull—it wouldn't go deeper. I left the machete planted, let go of the handle, and stepped back.
Now completely blind, it started thrashing in earnest, even the unused right arm windmilling wildly. I'd already released the grip and put distance before the seizure started, so I stayed clear.
"Hoo.. haa.."
I dragged in air, the copper taste of blood vivid on my tongue, and slowly backed farther away.
Was this the moment to run? Did I really need to risk anything more finishing this thing off?
Clink.
As I put distance between us, my shoe brushed the axe I'd used to take its leg. Right beside it lay the severed limb—and a child's corpse I hadn't noticed in the fight, crushed flat under the zombie's foot.
Young. Early to mid teens at most. The body was already stomped beyond recognition, but that was about the age. Why it snagged my eye now, and why seeing it dragged up the faces of the kids who'd been hanging around the rooftop market...
Those kids. Every corpse here belonged to their parents. I hadn't known these people well, but I'd come through a few times.
"Fuck.."
Yeah. With injuries like this I wasn't living long anyway. I'd been careful, tried to stay safe—and still burned through the last of the antibiotics. The wound would fester and rot. Even if I walked out of here before that happened, the next looter gang or zombie chase would finish me. No fight left in me. I'd just end up the newest display piece for those scavenger bastards.
I picked up the axe. If I was going to die anyway, better to settle these people's grudges first—even if I had to do it as a ghost. Meeting them on the other side without having done that would just be awkward as hell.
"Gonna do one good deed before I go, you zombie bastard."
"Kiyaak! Kagagak!"
It locked onto my voice, gauged the position, and came charging with that massive arm planting and driving it forward. Fully adapted to tripedal now. Yeah. This thing needed to die right here.
I matched its charge, axe raised in my right hand, waiting for the opening to bring it down. Blood sheeted from the torn left shoulder; I clenched my teeth and ignored it.
"Kyaaaaak!!"
"Die!!"
Crack—!!
Thud—!
The axe blade buried deep into the zombie's skull with a clean, satisfying impact. That electric thrill climbed up my arm—then the dying body's final slam hit me. I couldn't hold. I was thrown back and went down hard.
"..ha.. cough!!"
Flat on the ground, blood—not spit—surged up my throat and soaked the floor and my cheek. That the pain still wasn't crushing me even now told me exactly how hard the adrenaline was still working.
Through blurring vision I watched the end of the zombie bastard I'd made. The axe was driven in deeper than anything before. One of the best mad-movie finales you could ever play at a funeral—shame there wouldn't be one.
Crunch.
"..huh?"
In the last scraps of fading consciousness, a familiar sound reached my ears. Creaking, as if wringing every fiber of muscle, that massive arm lifted. The body still hung limp, but the left arm—raised like something was pulling it—planted on the ground. It started crawling slowly toward me.
Hiss... hiss...
"…ha, fucking.. bastard."
So the arm was the main body all along?
Pain flooding every inch of me and the sheer absurdity of it all finally dragged me under.
Crunch.
"Ugh, uh..."
I forced the heavy eyelids open. A hoarse croak came out of my throat. Breathing still felt off, but air was moving.
"Nah—am I alive? Kek! Ahh, fuck.."
Sticky blood-water filled my mouth and more of it was glued to my cheek—disgusting. When I finally pushed myself up, the blood that hadn't wanted to leave my face peeled away with a wet sound.
"Ahh... at the end there... I really thought I was... dying, hoo.."
Crunch.
I planted an arm on the ground and shifted into a proper sit. Nowhere on my body didn't hurt, yet somehow sitting felt easier than when I'd been whole. Odd. I wrote it off as imagination and moved on.
Crunch.
"..what the hell is that sound."
The subtle, half-familiar noise had been going since I woke. I turned my head toward it.
Crunch.
"Uh."
My left arm—something I had never once seen in my entire life—my left arm that had no business existing was shyly filling the empty space that had been vacant for twenty-three years.
And it was the arm of the mutant I had just killed.
Crunch.
"Kyaaaaak!!!"
That day I had no choice but to let out the most estrogen-soaked scream of my twenty-three years on earth.