3
>
So I picked up a rock the size of my fist and hit two of Pag's assailants across the backs of their heads before anyone even knew I was in the game.
A third, turning to face the new threat, took a blow to the face that audibly crunched the bones of his cheek. I remember wondering why I didn't take any satisfaction from that sound, why it meant nothing beyond the fact I had one less opponent to worry about.
The rest of them ran at the sight of blood. One of the braver promised me I was dead, shouted "Fucking zombie!" over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner.
Three decades it took, to see the irony in that remark.
Two of the enemy twitched at my feet. I kicked one in the head until it stopped moving, turned to the other. Something grabbed my arm and I swung without thinking, without looking until Pag yelped and ducked out of reach.
"Oh," I said. "Sorry."
One thing lay motionless. The other moaned and held its head and curled up in a ball.
"Oh shit," Pag panted. Blood coursed unheeded from his nose and splattered down his shirt. His cheek was turning blue and yellow. "Oh shit oh shit oh shit..."
I thought of something to say. "You all right?"
"Oh shit, you--I mean, you never..." He wiped his mouth. Blood smeared the back of his hand. "Oh man are we in trouble."
"They started it."
"Yeah, but you--I mean, look at them!"
The moaning thing was crawling away on all fours. I wondered how long it would be before it found reinforcements. I wondered if I should kill it before then.
"You'da never done that before," Pag said.
Before the operation, he meant.
I actually did feel something then--faint, distant, but unmistakable. I felt angry. "They started--"
Pag backed away, eyes wide. "What are you doing? Put that down!"
I'd raised my fists. I didn't remember doing that. I uncle