James Tiberius Kirk (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} illdoitinthree) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} vas_captio_rpg, |
As much as it sickened him to think of it, the sound of the rock making contact was loud enough to hear and it did not sound like the side of the station or any building for that matter. If anything, it sounded like bones breaking. Breaking the way his left arm had after his stupid stunt off his bedroom window. Breaking the way like crippled bone would when you were a rotting zombie corpse; crunching. He tried to shake the thoughts loose from his head (understandably, they weren't such pleasant thoughts, were they?), and calculated his distance to be roughly seven to eight feet from his position. Judging from the time it took for the rock to make impact..
Jim heard the growl and once again, the zombie was getting too close for comfort. He only had seconds to consider his next move, and damnit Jim! The zombie isn't going to wait for you! Your brains may not be Spock's but brains are brains! Get on it!!
Fight or flight. Fight or flight!
He steadied his hold and readied the swing of his ax. When the stench was too much to bear, he swung, his sweaty palms holding thick wood tightly.