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

Jenna compelled herself to stand and pitched herself into David’s back, knocking him off guard, causing all three to fall. Caleb threw the man off and grabbed the knife, but he didn’t need it.

David barely clung to life, but Caleb grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up. He finished the work he had started, decapitating the man, and lobbing his head across the room.

“Did he hurt you?”

Her eyes focused on the headless corpse on the floor. “What did you just do?”

“Took care of the problem.”

“You are efficient.” She pulled her eyes away to meet his.

“Stop avoiding my question. Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride for being unable to escape on my own. I kind of suck at being a hostage.”

“I’m sure you did just fine.”

“I’d rate my performance a D+”

“You’re a tough taskmaster, but I knew that. Kind of sexy.”

Jenna sent him a weak smile. “Are you trying to make it all better?”

“Is it working?”

She shrugged. “A little. Be a lot better if you got around to untying my hands. I can’t feel my fingers.”

Caleb worked the knots. Shouts and animal sounds moved closer. Aiko and Quentin forced Tundra and Gunnar into the bedroom.

Caleb jumped to his feet to do battle. Jenna joined his side.

Aiko was bloody.

Not so beautiful now. Jenna was unable to determine whether it was her blood or someone else’s.

Quentin staggered in behind her. He was wounded, barely able to stand, but wielded a knife. He pitched sideways and then sank in the doorway.

“I need a weapon.” Jenna crawled toward his slumped form.

Caleb blocked her. “I got nothing but the knife.”

“Give it here. You’ve got your super-human strength.”

“Quentin needs you more.”

She started towards the wounded man, but the fury of fighting left her without a path.

Caleb hoisted the serrated blade.

Madness radiated from Tundra, who screamed out with each thrust of the hatchet.

“We could have ruled the new world.” Tundra slashed at the air in front of Aiko, holding the woman at bay.

Aiko parried. “I came to realize I wouldn’t want you in charge.” A gash running down her side, dripped dark blood.

Caleb moved in front, becoming a buffer. “Got to agree with Aiko on that one.”

Tundra hissed and cleaved the hatchet she held. “You’re both dead and that little human bitch is bound for an early grave unless, she returns as something fouler than her stupid mouth.”

Jenna searched for a weapon. Anything to beat the woman’s brains out with. “Just because you don’t get my sense of humor, doesn’t mean you should put it down. Take all types.”

“Nope.” Aiko moved to Caleb’s side and swung at Tundra. “I think we can definitely do without her type.”

Tundra was a strong fighter, even against two opponents. She thrusted and countered her opponents moves. Lines of red began to crisscross Caleb’s and Aiko’s arms and chest.

Gunnar, who until this moment stood on the sidelines, kicked Quentin’s slouched body aside and grabbed Aiko’s arms, pinning them behind her.

Tundra sidestepped Caleb and sliced into the woman’s side, burying the weapon there just as Gunnar let Aiko go, and she slipped to the floor. The weapon clattered next to her.

Gunnar and Tundra turned to Caleb. Jenna forced herself into action, grabbing the only weapon close, a discarded plank of wood. She ran forward, swinging the timber. Tundra ducked the blow and backhanded her.

“I’m not done with you.” A fist smashed against Jenna’s cheek and again into her mouth. Red dots overtook her vision, then she crashed into the wall.

Caleb pounced on the woman. The two collapsed, and he pounded Tundra’s head to the floor, but her hands went for his face, fingers ready to gouge out his eyes. His hands found her neck, but she broke his grasp, jumped, and stood above him.

Jenna crawled along the floor, found the hatchet Tundra had arrived with and stood on wobbling legs. She pitched herself forward, and the hatchet landed square in Tundra’s back.

“I guess it’s too late to bury the hatchet between us,” Jenna said. “Bitch.” Tundra’s hand reached behind her, attempting to pull out the offending weapon. A gurgle escaped her lips, and she crashed to the floor.

Caleb faced Gunnar. Fear registered in the man’s eyes. Lost without Tundra’s directives, Gunnar backed out of the room, turned, and fled into the night. Caleb followed.

Jenna inhaled twice, taking in the moment of silence.

The boom of cracking wood had her straining to see what had arrived.

Glass shattered in the next room and footsteps crunched over the broken splinters.

What had once been a tall, middle-aged man in a business suit, was now a bloated corpse in rags crusted over with blood and pus.

The baked-by-the-sun Streaker wore a wrinkled face with the consistency of an old raisin. His right arm hung limply, dislodged from the socket, but both hands made continual grabbing motions. Lacking any grace, the creature staggered to the bedroom door and stopped. It sniffed, searching out its next meal.

Blood poured from Jenna’s lip, where Tundra had hit her. She wiped it away, then retrieving the piece of wood. Sensing the movement, the Streaker turned its undead eyes on her. Some of its skull had been torn away, exposing the rot. It lumbered and stumbled over the chair in its path, giving Jenna desperate seconds to ready herself.

Arm raised, eyes dead and unblinking, it came, dancing with death. It reached out to grab her.

Jenna ducked, then swung low and hard.

“I must have gone brain dead. I can’t think of one good zombie joke right now.”

The creature staggered back, but then surged forward. Jenna rammed the edge of the board into its stomach.

“No comeback from the undead. There’s a no brainer.”

It writhed against the constant pressure of the wood. A trail of intestines spurted out, staining the tattered remains of clothing.

Jenna gagged at the stench. “You, my good sir, are too gross for words.”

The undead groaned, plowing forward. Decaying brains leaking from its nostrils and eyes.

“That all you got for me?” She stepped back, hoisting the board, and