The elbow and the kick finally drive his attacker off of him, R’s teeth snapping together with a loud click. He nearly bites off his tongue. One of his back teeth calls it quits, a few splinters dribbling out his open mouth. The zombie stumbles backward off without getting a single bite in. Really? He has to get the guy who apparently has some kinda training? R needs to pick better targets.

R starts to right himself a few feet away, his shoulders hunching as he gears up for another attack.