Apocalipstick (Hell in a Handbag Book 1) by Lisa Acerbo (best motivational books for students .TXT) 📕

shambled forward. With a guttural scream, Victor emerged from the shadows and swung a bat in a giant arc. With a speed and accuracy defying human ability, the bat lodged itself into the creature’s wormy head, the skull spewing bone and oozing globs of tissue. The undead collapsed to the floor, and the enraged New Racer yanked on the wooden handle, bringing the bat back to his side. He took a step, another, but slowly sank to his knees.

In his fury, he’d failed to notice how far out into the light he had stepped, and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. The twin sped over, dragging Victor into the shadows behind a bench. The smell of the scorched skin turned into a beacon. Undead pressed against the large glass panes that encircled the lobby.

Jenna watched in horror.

The windows became a mural of writhing, creeping, ramshackle creatures in various states of decay.

Jenna lifting her gun.

The glass shattered, followed by the arrival of several stumbling creatures, crushing each other, shouldering forward. The twins dragged Victor’s body from the darkness into the theater where Beth and Ford had gone. The two ran back out, brandishing their blades. Emma joined the twins. The remainder of the group, having grabbed weapons, stood united.

More of the New Racers emerged from the recesses of the building, but they didn’t step into the sun-kissed, main entryway. Once again, they would only be helpful if the Streakers made it past most of the main hall and all the people in it.

Jenna planned not to let that happen.

“Shit, there’s a lot of ‘em,” Quentin boomed from behind her. He examined a rifle, and satisfied the weapon was ready, braced the large gun, aiming at the creatures coming through the shattered glass.

“We need to barricade the window,” Aiko’s voice boomed above the moaning undead. “Let’s pray the others hold.”

Gus sent a bullet into what brains remained of the nearest Streaker. It went limp for a minute, but with a low moan, raised its head and met Jenna’s gaze. Dark blood poured from both the new head wound and from the mouth of the creature, marking it a more recent creation. While some of its brain was torn away, it rose and shambled forward. Stumbling over the wreckage in its path, it limped toward her with disjointed arms and dead, unblinking eyes. She readied herself to fight, a large knife clasped in her sweaty palm.

“Get down.”

She dropped.

Caleb pinched the trigger of his rifle from far behind. The weapon roared, a bullet tore through the remnants of flesh and bone that encompassed the creature’s skull. He fired again before the monster flailed and dropped.

“There’s too many. Theater One. Let’s get in there now!” George yelled from its entrance.

Billy grabbed Jenna’s arm, and they retreated along with the rest of the group.

“Where’s Eric?” Caleb asked.

“I . . . I . . . I don’t know. Wasn’t he with Gus or you? Oh God . . .” Billy turned back to find his brother.

“Go inside.” Caleb stopped them before he pivoted toward the main hall.

Jenna pushed Billy into the smaller theater and then followed Caleb back into the lobby.

Shots rang through the air.

A bullet from his gun clipped through a Streaker’s skull, spraying muck.

The other half of the head and torso dropped to the ground. But the Streaker’s body continued to squirm, inching closer, leaving a trail of intestines on the carpet.

A zombie charged. Green ooze dripping from its nostrils and black patches of mold devouring the skin on its face. She hoisted her heavy-duty hunting machete and swung with all her might. The head of the creature flew off its decrepit shoulders and onto the carpet moments before its claw-like hands raked at Jenna’s camouflage jacket. The body stood at attention and then pitched itself forward, slamming her to the ground with it.

Jenna refused to scream, even smothered under the corpse. She knocked it over, her hands sinking through the shallow layer of skin. Shuddering, she could not get out from under the headless, lifeless remains fast enough. Kicking it away, she stood and waited for what would come at her next.

“I got you. Where is Caleb?” Quentin asked from behind her.

“He’s looking for Eric.”

The deformed, hunched remains of an undead creature stumbled into her line of sight. Her blade sliced the air at the ready, but the figure fell to the ground with a thud, a bullet tearing apart its skull.

“I told you, I got your back,” Quentin pointed at the nearby window. “They’re getting in there. We need to board it up.”

Nodded in agreement, she scanned the lobby for any signs of Eric.

It was Caleb who reemerged from the shadows of the theater. Head bowed and shaking. “I tried. I couldn’t get to him. He didn’t make it.”

“What?” Tears pooled in her eyes.

Eric. Dead.

She sank to her knees.

10

“Too many Streakers. I couldn’t get close to the body. It gives us a reprieve. Let’s go back to the group,” Caleb said in a monotone. “Get up.”

Quentin dragged a sobbing Jenna into Theater One. Caleb stood sentry at the open door until they were inside. Gus closed the door and wedged old seating against it.

Jenna collapsed to her knees.

News of Eric’s death spread in whispers only interrupted by Billy’s sobs.

The teen huddled against Emma. Jenna wiped her tears away and joined them.

“Now is the time for action, not grief.” Ford cleared his throat. “We have to barricade the damn window so nothing else will get in, and then find a way out of here.” His voice faltered. He brushed Beth’s arm.

Josh and Kyle hugged his legs.

“It’s so early in the day,” said Aiko. Her shredded clothes and long black braid flailed as she paced. “We have to wait at least five or six hours before we leave. We’re trapped right now, and those things out there will keep coming. By night, this place will reek of Streakers. I’m not sitting in here waiting to die.”

“We sure don’t want to get trapped