Then more showed up. My right side became flanked by several more fresh-looking runners. These had newly turned as evidenced by their rosy complexions and the amount of fresh blood spilt across their torsos, most of which was their own blood, of course, but some of it would be the result of a recent feeding.
I was screwed.
I knew that if they reached me, they could not turn me into one of them, but that wouldn’t stop the monsters from killing me good and proper like. I would still bleed out as they ate me bit by bit, until they had filled their stomachs and temporarily satisfied their hunger.
But I had no intention of dying in the street today.
I turned and headed into a neighborhood, hoping to find some fences I could vault, or a shed that would offer shelter. I knew that I couldn’t hide forever, but I could make it a lot longer hiding in a barn or a house than I could running. If I kept running, either the zombies or I would collapse, and I didn’t want to test and see who would go first.
I needed an open door that wasn’t broken down.
I needed an open window that could be defended.
I needed a gate that could be secured or a balcony that could be sequestered.
As bad as it sounds, I needed a cage.
The stumblers behind me had fallen a ways back, but the runners had not lost much ground. There were two of them, and they were fast enough that I was afraid to turn and face them. I was sure in my ability to neutralize one of them with sheer blunt effort, but that would leave me open to attack from the other. I needed a quick way to kill or cripple the zombies, or a way to bar myself from them. Whatever I chose I would have to do it fast. My legs were growing weaker by the step and a sharp pain was blossoming in my side.
The houses on the street began to give way to more industrial buildings. Off to the left, there was a row of metal buildings that looked like mechanics’ garages. They were all matching, with two roll-up doors to one side and two regular doors on the other. On one of the buildings, a roll-up was elevated a few feet. Not enough to see inside, but breached just enough that I could slide under and hopefully bring it down before my buddies catch me.
What the hell, right? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?
I made for the door. The zombies must have sensed my eagerness, because they began to growl and moan wildly as I pulled away. At the door I crashed to my stomach and rolled under. Hopping to my feet as quickly as I could, I jumped onto the door and let my weight drag it closed. The deadheads outside slammed against the metal and flailed riotously against it. I found the lock and slid the bar home.
Then the moaning in the building began.
It was hard to hear at first over the clatter against the roll-up, but it quickly became apparent that I was not alone in the room. I spun to find that I was in a two-story garage. The two roll-up doors opened to one open space, with an office and a loft to one side of the room.
Littering the floor was a small pack of zombies. There were at least four in the main area and I could hear more in the office. The loft was closed-up with cyclone fencing.
In a word, I was screwed.
Outside was death. Before me was death. Shamefully, despair began to rise up within me. I felt my chest shudder as I accepted that this was the end. The shufflers in the room began their slow progression toward me and the noises in the office intensified. I hung my head and spotted a wrecking bar. My eyes rose to meet the grey eyes of my roommates.
“Well,” I said to the closest one, “if I’m destined to go, I might as well make a show of it, huh?”
He grunted a short response.
“Good enough for me,” I said, scooping up the bar and cocking it back.
I swung through in the first one, taking off a large piece of his head, then spun to continue the swing. I brought the bar crashing down hard on the second. His skull caved under the blow, spraying blood and casting brains about the room. I felt like a macabre Jackson Pollack. The third moved in and I jammed the wedge end into her face before swinging the curved cat’s paw into the neck of the first. With a yank, the hook tore through its dead flesh, leaving a massive gash and sending the zombie into a spin. The fourth zombie pushed the second aside and moved in, scratching the air at me. I screamed and swung the bar level into its neck. The head tipped forward obscenely and flopped about unsupported. The third grabbed me and, holding the bar at the ends, I smashed the middle of it into the open mouth of the creature. Teeth broke and shattered, but still she chewed on the steel and tried to pull me into her mouth. I lifted the bar, raising the monster’s head, then brought the tool down in a rush that dislocated the zombie’s jaw.
“Behind you!” screamed an urgent voice above me. I turned to find the source and spied a woman upstairs behind the fencing. “Behind you!” she screamed again pointing off to my right. Sure enough, the zombies in the office had heard the commotion and were staggering out to investigate.
“Here!” she screamed, moving to the chain-link door. “Up here!”
I moved for the stairs, blasting one of the office zombies in the mouth as I went by. The wrecking bar clanged happily as it destroyed the
