Waking Up Dead

We’ll always find each other.

“I’m not seeing an obvious solution,” Luke said, eyeing the room, and pulling her thoughts away from her lost friend.

Jackson took one last, tiny sip of the soda, wincing at the syrupy sweetness, and wiped a steady hand across her lips. “We need a plan,” she said after a moment. “It would not be an understatement to say that no one else in the world has ever needed a plan more than we do now.”

Luke nodded his agreement. “That we do.”

“What weapons do you have?” she asked, the practicalities filling her brain. “And please tell me many grenades, a slew of guns, and a rocket launcher strapped to your thigh.”

He laughed. “Just the ax, I’m afraid. You?”

“Just my machete and a small knife strapped to my ankle.”

“Right…”

A particularly loud thump sounded, and Luke looked at the door. “They want in, the fuckers.”

Despite the fact that knowing wouldn’t change anything, Jackson asked the question. “How many do you think there are out there?”

Luke shrugged. “It was one pack, from what I could tell, though it looked as though there were three packs working together. Plus someone I used to know from ages ago—she was my friend Pete’s wife, Lily. Who the hell knew she was still around?” He shook his head. “So four. I think I might have got one before I made a run for it but who fucking knows? You know how it goes in those situations. It’s fight, run, and then try and work out what the heck went down.”

“What happened to the other eight or nine?” she asked.

“I took care of them,” Luke replied.

“On your own.”

“Yep, with my bare hands.”

She eyed his muscular form and swallowed. The man was fit, no doubt about it. She could well imagine him taking on half-a-dozen zombies, and he’d probably be smiling while he did it. “Serious?”

He laughed. “Of course not. I had the grenades. I threw the last two at the remaining pack, but I don’t know if they did much beyond giving me time to make a run for it.”

“Geez, at least try and keep the illusion of masculine strength.”

He laughed again.

A plan was forming in Jackson’s mind now and it seemed a do-it-or-die sort of deal. One of those crazy plans that she would, a million plans later, marvel at, and thank the crazies for it working. A particularly loud groan sounded, kind of confirming her thoughts. “I think we should just go for it.”

“Huh?”

“They’re gonna get past the vending machine eventually. That’s a given. Why don’t we pull the vending machine back slightly and drop it to the floor? We’ll leave just enough of a gap for one to get through.”

“Funneling them?”

She nodded. “Exactly. The longer we wait, the less chance we have. Because, and preaching to the choir here, I know, the more that are out there, the less room we have to maneuver or get away.”

Luke shot her a long look and Jackson almost felt like she was going to blush—which was ridiculous. She had never been a blusher. Well no, that wasn’t true. She might have been once, a few years ago. But she certainly fucking wasn’t now.

“Well…that does seem like our only option,” Luke said slowly. “I have a safe place not far from here that we can go to, but…” He paused and eyed her from head to toe. “You sure you’re up to it?”

Jackson rolled her eyes. Oh, so it was like that, was it? Luke thought her a weakling girl. Well nothing else could rile her as much as a man doubting her skills. So she was skinny and short, she got that. While Luke was all tall and sculpted…damn was he sculpted… But Jackson had grown up with two brothers, had dated a cage fighter, and had won the Atomic Fallout burger challenge three years straight. She knew how to use what she had. This long in the land of the zombies? You had no choice but to harden up. It was do or die, and Jackson was a do-it kinda girl.

“Yeah, I’m up to it, and I’m thinking it’s now or never.”

To punctuate her point Jackson stood up, dropped her pack next to her feet, and heaved Mandy. Together they’d taken down countless numbers of the waking dead—hiding did not always work. Time to take down a few more.

…

Luke watched as Jackson—was that really her name?—hefted her machete and smiled. She looked like a good gust of wind would knock her over and he seriously doubted her ability to take down one zombie, never mind two. Christ, he was probably going to have to kill them all himself. Ordinarily not an insurmountable problem, but with zero weapons beyond an ax and running on hardly any sleep, he was already mentally crossing his chest and making his peace.

“If for some reason I don’t make it,” he said grabbing one end of the vending machine, “head north along Everdeen Park. You’ll find a huge gate with a stone dragon either side—Harry Potter style. There’s a gap on the left side of the hedge. Slip through there and follow the hedge around. Eventually you’ll come to what looks like an overly large shed. It’ll have a girder propped up against it—keeping it shut. Go through there, make sure you close the door behind you, splash some Old Spice, and look for a trapdoor. It’s right in the corner, next to one of those ride-on lawn mowers. Open it, splash some more scent, and head down. Follow the path below, don’t take any of the turnoffs, and you’ll come across another door. Metal keypad coded.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah. Code is one-two-three-four.”

“Original.”

“Workable, sweetheart.”

“What’s there?” she asked.

“Everything you need to survive. Only don’t use the second door next to the bathroom. It opens a trapdoor that leads to the house above and the zombies hang around up there in their spare time.”

Jackson took the other side and gave him a nod. Together they pushed the vending machine across the floor, giving them a good few of inches between it and the door. The zombies on the other side howled.

“How have you got a coded keypad working? There’s no electricity.”

“Generator run,” he explained. “The whole bunker is completely self-sufficient.”

“Impressive,” Jackson said. “Ready to let it drop?”

The vending machine wobbled as they leaned back—toes out of the way. A moment later and they pushed it, making the machine topple like a drunken stripper. It hit the floor with a crash that sent the zombies into overdrive. They bashed at the double doors, and Luke could see that they were already beginning to crumple.

“It’s good to know you have somewhere for us to go, Luke,” Jackson said, stepping back toward the pool. “But I’d rather we get there together, to be honest. I’ll watch your back, you watch mine.”

He grinned, because whether Jackson realized it or not, those were the first words she’d said that hinted they would be leaving together. That she wouldn’t be running off in the other direction the moment they were zombie-free. That thought made his heart race and Luke gripped his ax, a surge of energy coursing through him.

One of the doors buckled about halfway up, separating from the other and creating a gap about a half foot wide. “Good job we used this instead of the crate,” he said “They’d have gotten in by now.”

“That they would.”

“They’ll have their gap in a minute,” he said, as the door continued to buckle inward.

“Yep.”

They stood back, side by side, and Luke took a deep breath, ready to shield Jackson when the time came. He was the man, after all. But damn, what he wouldn’t give right now for a grenade or two.

The double doors juddered, the metal screeched, and then the left one came away from the frame completely. Luke was impressed to note that Jackson didn’t even flinch, because there, outlined against the crumpled metal, was a pack of three zombies. The dead Lily was conspicuously absent and Luke wondered if he’d