Nicodemus strolled down the street, out in the open just where he liked it. Of course, there was the added strategic bonus -- the fact that the streets were usually areas with clear lines of sight meant that there was no chance of being ambushed, and he could fight on his own term -- but really, that was an afterthought. He just liked the openness of it.
From the corner of his eyes he could see several walkers approaching him, attracted to his smell or the sound of his footsteps, whatever. He twirled his crowbar in expectation, still walking as though he hadn't a care in the world. And for him, that was probably the case.
For Nicodemus there were only two real ways to actually get offed by a zombie: either you get caught off guard, or you get crowded.
For him, the former was unthinkable. If there was ever a time where he was stupid enough to get ambushed by one of those mindless animals, then he would think that he very well deserved to die, because it was one thing if a planning, thinking human got him, but a whole other thing if he was somehow outplayed by a brain-dead corpse. As for the latter, well, it was difficult to get crowded by bodies that moved slower than a sloth and were as clumsy as babies on high-heels, but it was possible -- like inside buildings, for example. Not that he ever thought he would get caught in a spot like that, but he would be willing to forgive the poor sods that got caught in those situations -- unless of course, it was a byproduct of their own carelessness, in which case, like everyone else that got ambushed by a zombie, they deserved it.
With a casual step, Nicodemus got in front of the zombie closest to him, and began talking:
"You know," he said, ducking under its arms as it tried to grab him, getting past it and swinging at the zombie directly behind it. The impact on its skull made a very satisfying crack and it spasmed for a second before it crumpled to the ground, "a lot of people like to think of you guys as the "end of human civilization," but really," he hopped forward, putting space between the zombie behind him and getting closer to another two in front of him, "you're more of a reset than an end."
He swung his crowbar at an angle where the hook end latched on to one of the zombies eye-sockets. Nic increased the force of his swing, dragging the hooked zombie into colliding with the one next to it, causing it to stumble and fall. Taking advantage of the stumble, Nic withdrew his knife and placed it snugly through its eyes. For added measure, he swung his crowbar onto its head, once more eliciting a sharp crack as its skull shattered.
He turned to the first zombie, that had tripped over its own feet trying to turn around and face him. "You're little more than animals. Sure, animals that take the shape of humans, but still, animals." Three more were left, and Nicodemus regarded them all with a bored gaze. "Humanity hasn't ended yet, but we've dialed back a few thousand years, to a time when mankind formed tribes and scavenged to survive. Where we feared animals such as yourselves and hid behind fences to protect us."
Suddenly, his bored, uninterested look gave way to one of manic excitement, and Nicodemus swung his crowbar and knife in crossing arcs, smashing one through the ears and stabbing another through the nose. The first one went down immediately, while the other one remained standing, twitching violently as Nic twisted the knife in place.
"And for that, thank you so much."
He turned to the last zombie, the one that had fallen and was even now still struggling to get up, like a cockroach flipped on its back. He smiled beatifically.
"Allow me to repay your kindness."
A few minutes later, Nicodemus was back on his way to the penitentiary, his bag filled with things he had taken from the fallen corpses. He had left a small decoration for any passing survivor:
The corpses were stripped naked and dragged into the road, arranged into a large "arrow" pointing towards the direction of the prison. Written in blood beneath the arrow were the words:
"The Penitentiary is Full! Go somewhere else for supplies!"
He smiled. Hopefully no one took that to mean that there were survivors with supplies at the penitentiary. That would be terrible. Heh.
