Yet to be named, pt11

Their shrieks broke through the cacophonic buzz of the crowds. Many were unprepared. People fell to the ground covering their ears and screaming in pain. Others backed away from the undead, falling over the rest or pushing them into other horrors. Bony claws followed suit, ripping limbs off and spurting fountains of blood over the street as they hit the living with terrifying speed and force.

The mounted couple stood out from the masses, their white mount like a bright island
of sanity in the dark and bloody ocean of the undead and their hopeless prey. But soon, they will be the last people standing. They had to make haste.

To give the horse credit, it didn’t go completely crazy. The man struggled for control over the flailing mount while continuing forward and pushing people aside.

The gatehouse was about a hundred meters away from them. It was quite a distance with
a monster every few feet of the way. At least the crowds worked to their advantage, albeit unwillingly. Most ran off into the adjacent buildings or streets, and only small groups – either too brave, foolish or smart to wait for their demise inside the city walls – were pushing to the gate. It was open – someone had enough sense to let the escapees out of the city.