Then, he accidentally puts weight on his wounded foot, and a flood of acid instantly eats its way from his heel all the way to his hip. He falls down with a hoarse cry.
“Thomas!” Dan screams.
“Around the car,” Thomas groans. “Get to the other side!” He’s only partially aware exactly what’s going on around him, as everything takes place behind a red veil of excruciating pain.
Dan skips around the car as fast as he can. The two zombies still on their feet stagger right past Thomas, and Thomas, without time to think, stretches out his leg and kicks the black guy’s ankle hard, causing him to stumble and fall over. But the girl continues, reaching the woman’s car just as Thomas hears the sound of a car door opening and then slamming shut again.
He made it, Thomas thinks, laying back his head, resting it on the cool gravel. Dan made it, and now I faint.
He drifts off to a pleasant darkness.
EIGHTEEN
A voice from very far away calls to him.
Slowly, reluctantly, Thomas is drawn out of his daze. It feels like awaking from the deepest sleep. He opens his eyes, blinks, and into focus drifts a clear, dark sky full of stars.
“… Thomas …”
He wakes up a little further. Begins to remember. The pain is what brings him back completely.
He moans and sits up with an effort. His leg is one big blaze of fire. The foot has swollen to twice its size, and the sock seems about to burst. The skin on his ankle is deep blue.
Am I dead? Am I a zombie?
“Thomas! Over here!”
He turns his head. His sight flickers for a moment, then comes back into focus. The black guy is standing in front the car. From the side window, Dan’s pale face is staring out.
Thomas rubs his forehead. The skin is hot as lava. He feels the side of his neck. There is a weak pulse.
Guess I’m still alive.
He comes to his feet, using all of the strength left in his body, willing it to obey. He hobbles to the car, shoving aside the black guy and leaning heavily against the car door, rasping for breath, croaking: “Why … are you … still here?”
“We need to kill them, Thomas,” Dan says from the other side of the glass. “We can’t go before they’re dead.”
Thomas moans. “Just fucking run them over.”
“I already suggested that. But she says she can’t do it. And I don’t know how to drive.”
Says she can’t do it, Thomas thinks, bending down and darting the woman a burning look.
He skips to his own car. Every step is sending waves of pain up and down his leg. His head is swimming, his temples are throbbing. He opens the trunk and takes out the tire iron.
This is turning out to be a real zombie flick, he thinks, almost smiling to himself. In a real zombie flick they always use a tire iron or an axe.
He skips back to the other car. The zombie woman is closest to him, which means she’ll be the first to go. That’s only fair. After all, she started it all.
Thomas positions himself behind her, using a few seconds to secure his unsteady balance. The woman doesn’t even register him. From inside the car, Thomas notices Dan telling the redhead to look away.
That’s right, don’t look at me doing your dirty work. Wouldn’t want to cause you any distress, you stupid cunt.
Thomas pulls back the tire iron and bites down hard. He releases the swing with all his might. It connects perfect, the impact sending a jolt all the way up to his shoulder. The woman goes down sprawling, her skull visibly cracked open.
“Next, please,” Thomas mutters, a string of saliva dripping from his lower lip. “Please step up to the counter, sir.”
He hobbles round the car and repeats the procedure on the black guy. But this one doesn’t go down instantly like the old woman. He requires nothing short of four powerful blows. Even as he finally collapses, Thomas has to administer two more to keep him from getting back up. At last, the skull gives way at the temple, causing the tire iron to get stuck. Thomas twists it sideways, producing a sound both wet and crisp. As he pulls his weapon free, there are greyish lumps of brain matter stuck to the metal.
From inside the car, the redhead starts bawling loudly like a toddler. The sound brings Thomas a highly inappropriate feeling of joy.
Hope she’s watching. Hope she’s enjoying the show.
His breath is very shallow now, like his lungs almost can’t manage the effort anymore. “You’re the only one left,” he wheezes at the girl. “Last zombie standing.”
On the inside he feels something akin to excitement. Even though he’s dying, he’ll get to save the world first.
How many people in history can say that? How many can say they actually—
Thomas skips forward, and a new, flaming stab of pain rolls up through his leg. And this time, it doesn’t stop at the hip, but flows out to his entire body. The pain is too intense. It short-circuits him.
Thomas doesn’t scream. He merely gives off a sigh. And collapses.
NINETEEN
Dan sees Thomas go down for the second time. This time he doesn’t think he’ll be able to call him back. It looked like a minor miracle when he woke up again the first time around.
The woman is sitting with her face in her palms, sobbing. Of course, she looked away as Thomas put down the zombie who just a few hours ago had been her husband. But the sound of the blows could be heard even inside the car.
“He didn’t get the girl,” Dan mutters.
The woman lifts her head and stares at him, her eyes wet and swollen. “What?”
“Thomas is out again. He didn’t manage to …” Dan points out the window at the girl who is still snarling at them hungrily.
The woman looks from the girl to Dan. “What … what
