He avoids Dan’s eyes, yet he can hear the lie in his own voice. If zombie movies taught him anything, it’s that once you get bitten or scratched, the show’s over. There is no vaccine, no cure, no nothing. The victim can only wait for fever, coma, death.
And then: life once more.
“Sounds fine with me,” Jennie says, sounding a bit more optimistic. “But how do we do it? As soon as we open the door, she’ll come barging in.”
“That’s right, and I can’t think of a way to lure her away from the door. That’s why we need to let her in.”
Dan lets out a gasp. “We can’t!”
“There’s no other way. As far as I can tell, we have three options once we open the door. One: We can try and slip past her and get up the stairs. It’ll be difficult, though, since there’s three of us, and there isn’t a lot of room to move around. I think there’s a big risk not all three of us will make it out of here unharmed. Two: We can try and lure her into a trap. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. If we can make her trip or throw a blanket over her head—just confuse her for a few seconds, that might be all we need to get past her.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Dan says. “We need to get pretty close to her if we’re going to trip her or throw something over her head.”
“I know. That’s why I’m partial to the third option.” Thomas gets up and makes his way through the basement. Against the wall in the corner leans a piece of rusty iron pipe. Thomas grabs it and weighs it in his grasp. It feels heavy and cold and assuring. He looks at Jennie and Dan. “The third option is fighting our way past her.”
Jennie raises her brow. “You’re not serious, are you? You want to hit her with that thing? That’s assault! And she’s old—what if you kill her?”
“That’s the idea,” Thomas says dryly.
Jennie stares at him in disbelief. “Are you insane?”
“She’s already dead,” Dan reminds his sister. “Killing her again would actually be kind. Like, an act of mercy. That’s what they always say in the movies, anyway.”
Jennie shakes her head. “You two need to get a grip. This is not a movie. And it’s not some crazy monster on the other side of that door. She might be sick or something, but she’s still just an old lady. Did you forget about the photos already? She has kids and grandkids and everything. We can’t just … kill her with a pipe!”
“We can,” Thomas says, but he doesn’t feel quite as convinced as he sounds. Because it’s going to be him doing the killing. Jennie is obviously out of the picture—she couldn’t hit the floor if she fell down, especially not with her wounded arm. And Dan isn’t strong enough. Thomas grips the pipe firmer. He used to play rounders when he was little, and he’s confident he can put the zombie to rest with one good swing—providing he doesn’t miss.
“You’ll only get one try,” Dan says darkly. “If you miss, she’ll get you instead.”
“I might have time for two, maybe three tries,” Thomas says. “Look.” He swings the pipe swiftly. It’s heavier than he expects, and it slips out of his grip, whooshes through the air and hits the wall with a bang.
Jennie screams. “Watch it! Are you out of your mind? You could have hit me!”
On the other site of the door, the zombie scratches more eagerly, apparently sensing the commotion.
Thomas picks up the pipe. His palms are reddish brown. “It was because of the rust,” he mutters. He gives it another go, more carefully this time. But he still has trouble swinging the pipe hard enough without losing his grip. It seems Dan is right. He’ll only get one shot.
“I vote for the second option,” Jennie says. “One of you guys get behind the door with the blanket, and as soon as she enters, you throw it over her head and push her down. When she falls, we all make a run for it.”
Thomas considers the idea. “What if one of us doesn’t make it out before she gets back up? Then that person would be seriously fucked.” He shakes his head. “No, I still think eliminating the threat is our best course of action.”
“Eliminating the threat,” Jennie repeats. “Just listen to yourself, would you? You think you’re some kind of soldier? You couldn’t even swing that thing without dropping it.”
“I told you, that was because of the rust. Now I’m prepared for it, it won’t happen again.”
“And what if it does? Then we’re all fucked!”
Thomas scoffs at her. He turns to Dan. “What do you think? We need a deciding vote.”
Dan doesn’t answer; he seems to be studying the place where the pipe hit the wall. Then, he says: “I vote for a fourth solution.” He points, revealing a hole in the wall.
Thomas comes closer. “What the hell? I thought it was a brick wall.”
“No, it’s something much more smoldery. Plaster, I think. And it’s not very thick, either. There seems to be another room on the other side!”
Thomas bends down and looks through the hole. It’s too dark to see anything, but an unpleasant smell seeps through.
“Phew,” he says, pulling away. “Something stinks really bad in there.”
“Who cares?” Jennie exclaims. “Just hurry up and break down that wall, will you?”
Thomas pushes Dan aside, raises the iron pipe and starts swinging.
FOUR
The wall proves surprisingly easy to break down. For every swing of the pipe, large, crumbling pieces come off. Soon the air is filled with white dust.
Thomas is panting and sweating, as he pulls back and swings, pulls back and swings. The putrid smell gets more and more
