There it was, sat in the middle of the road. Every time I saw one, whether it was the fifth or the five thousandth, I always had the same mix of feelings that made me feel sick. I always see them as they where, not as they are. This one was a woman, mid-to late thirties, but the colour of the skin, bruising and the such like, their eyes swollen up in little domes of inflammation, the scratches and tears on the flesh, it makes it hard to age them. Her skin was caked in blood and grime, bits of clothing stuck to her, hanging on and not letting go. She was faintly laughing to herself, a sick laugh, devoid  of anything human, just a repetitive rattle in the back of  the throat.

Ha ha ha.
Ha ha ha.

     She kept laughing and laughing, sitting there in the road, legs crossed, laughing. I didn’t  want her to see me, not just because she’d come for me, but also because I didn’t want to look her directly in the face. She grasping around on the tarmac, grabbing shards of windscreen glass, and inserting them under her finger nails. Shoving them until the skin at the joint bulged and ruptured, popping and bubbling. I wanted to stay behind her, but she had her back to the barricade. Beyond that was a forest of abandoned cars. They made for good cover, but if it covered me, it covered them. There could be more, squatting amongst the wreckage, and I didn’t think I could handle more than four at a time.
     I needed to get rid of her; she was the only thing stopping me using the barricade to  cover my crossing. The rifle was in my hands, one shot and she’d be gone, but the noise would alert any more on the road. In fact, if I’d avoided any in the forest, then they’d  come straight here the instant I fired.
    No it’d have to be done quiet. I stuck the rifle on my back, and let the hatchet lose from my belt. One good swing to the head, without her noticing I was there. That’s all. I made that my mantra. That’s all. Repeating it over and over again. I got up, bringing the hatchet to my right hand, and slowly, carefully moving towards her.

One swing, thats all. One swing thats all.

As I moved closer, her laugh because louder, and more grisly. I could hear it more clearly with every step.

Ha ha ha.
Ha ha ha.

   She was transfixed on her hands, the crippled finger, splitting and fraying with every shard she plunged in. Her eyes were mad, yellowed, infected, pink and huge, weeping pus from the swelling, staring intently at the bloody mess of her hand.

One swing, thats all.
Ha ha ha.

   Her lips with flecked with blood, each laugh brought up a faint mist of crimson, her throat grated with the constant laughing.

One swing that’s all.
Ha ha ha
     
   Her lungs rattled, a broken rib clacked with every withered breath.

One swing that’s all.
Ha ha ha.
    
I hefted the axe over my head, screwing my eyes up and steadying myself so the impact didn’t throw me off balance.

One swing that’s all.
Ha ha ha.

     I move closer.

One swing that’s all.
Ha ha ha.
     
Closer.

One swing that’s all.
Ha ha...
     Something snapped, and piece of glass under foot. Her eyes fixed on me with demonic  intensity, her mouth carved into a gummy smile, her laugh roared like a scream, spitting blood from her rotten, toothless maw.  It was piercing, sending me to the ground, thrown by the inhumanity of it. She leapt onto me, frothing at the mouth, grabbing at my face with the gore of her ruined hands. I kicked her with my right foot, hitting her hard across the mouth. She scratched at my furiously, her limp  useless finger tips giving way through swathes of wet tissue to the biting pain of bone, laughing so hard her entire body was shaking. She almost gagged with the strain.
     I kicked her again, knocking her off of me, and I threw myself at her, sinking the hatchet into her shoulder. She wailed orgasmicly.
“Hit me!” her voice was a gargle of blood and foam and rage. I hit her across the face, her cheeks splitting with the blow. She spat the tip of her tongue at me, laughing. I hit her again and again, spatterings of skull and brain lashing my face and fore arms, the strange fluids of her head filled my nose and mouth, and strong smell of iron in the air.

She stopped moving.

The laughing ceased.