“This Amy and Alex stuff?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, they’re like a brother and sister to me. Especially, Amy, and I need to find her,” Dylan explained. “How can I start something with anyone if I know I’m going to leave?”
“What if I said I’d go with you?”
“I’d say you were out of your mind,” Dylan replied. “It’s dangerous out there, and you’re better off here. Besides —”
“Dylan, forget about all of that. We’ve got problems,” Nick interrupted, his voice strained.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Dylan asked, whirling around to face him.
“The glass isn’t going to last,” he said, pointing at a spot.
Dylan stared at the window, her eyes widening when she spotted the crack. In front of her horrified gaze, it ran upward before splitting into a starburst. More cracks joined the first, forming a pretty pattern across its breadth — a pattern of death. “I thought you said it couldn’t break.”
“I was wrong. There’s too many of them pressing at once.”
“You’d better tell Saul to hurry,” Dylan said. “Or, we’ll be zombie chow soon.”
While Nick got onto the radio, Dylan gathered all the loose furniture around them. That formed a half-moon barricade that might give them a few extra seconds to fight. With shaking hands, she pulled out her Beretta. The machete wouldn’t do her much good now. With the gun held in both hands, she glanced at Nick. “We’re going to die within the next few seconds.”
“Probably.”
“It’s been nice knowing you,” she added.
He winked at her. “See you in heaven.”
“Or hell.”
The glass shattered, bursting into a million pieces, and the infected threw themselves over the jagged edges. They wormed their way across, leaving shredded flesh and entrails behind.
Dylan chose her shots with care. She didn’t have ammo to waste, and she couldn’t afford to miss. Luckily, it was close range, and she was able to make the most of her shots. Nick dealt fearsome damage with his rifle, and the room was filled with exploding heads.
To Dylan, it resembled a watermelon fight. Only this time, the enemy wasn’t the other school kids, and the pink stuff wasn’t fruit. When her gun clicked on empty, she cried, “I’m out.”
“Reload, I’ll cover you,” Nick said, and Dylan hurried to obey.
Once her gun was full, she tossed him a grin. “All good. Your turn.”
With the Beretta gripped in both hands, she laid down a blanket of fire while Nick refilled his gun. The zombies were coming in thick and fast, but they struggled to get past each other. As more of them died, they blocked the shattered window with their bodies, forming a natural barricade
This granted Dylan and Nick a small opportunity. If they could keep the zombies from getting in, they might be able to last long enough to be rescued.
That hope was shattered when the first one wormed its way through a tiny space and fell to the floor. It scrambled upright and lunged for Dylan. She snapped off a couple of shots that missed and tossed aside her gun. Grabbing her machete, she stabbed it through the soft tissue underneath the chin. The blade slid into the roof of the mouth and pierced the brain.
With a hard pull, Dylan freed her weapon. As more zombies got through, she lost herself in the rhythm of hacking and slashing at anything that moved. Soon, she felt the familiar haze of an episode coming on.
Fresh energy filled her muscles, and anger took the place of fatigue. The thrill of the kill buzzed through her veins and exploded in her mind. For once, it wasn’t all-consuming, and she didn’t black out. Instead, she had full control of her actions.
It was a strange experience. It made her stronger, faster, and fiercer, but it also made her reckless. It wasn’t long before Nick pulled her back to his side when she wanted to take the fight to the zombies.
“Stick with me, Dylan. Stay behind the barricade,” he cried.
“Whatever you say, Boss,” she answered with a blood-splattered grin.
“Are you enjoying this?” he asked with disbelief.
“Aren’t you?”
“Maybe just a little,” he admitted. “But, we’re still going to die. There’s too many of them.”
“I know,” Dylan answered. “Let’s make it count.”
They continued to fight, taking down one infected after the other. The bodies piled up around them, hacked to death by machete or shot by the rifle. When the rifle bullets ran out, Nick switched to his handgun. When that emptied, she passed him her magazines. When that ran out too, he grabbed his knife. As he’d predicted, though, it couldn’t last. There were too many.
Dylan, still wielding her machete, gasped for oxygen. Her limbs quivered with fatigue, and sweat streamed down her skin. The salt stung her eyes, and she was rapidly losing strength. Finally, when she barely had the energy to lift her blade, the first zombie breached their barricade.
It jumped on her, its fingers closing around her throat. Teeth snapped at her face, and she had to use every ounce of will she had left to keep the monster at bay. Nick grabbed it by the shoulders and flung it away with an angry roar.
She scrambled to her feet and reached for her discarded Beretta. It still had a few bullets left in the magazine. At point-blank range, she shot two more zombies trying to climb over the barricade. She aimed at the third and pulled the trigger. Its snarling face disappeared in a cloud of blood and brains. Then her ears picked up a different sound: Automatic gunfire. “Nick? Is it them?”
He nodded, still wielding his knife. “It has to be.”
“Finally!”
The infected clamoring to get inside the lab began to fall away. Dylan and Nick continued to fight, hope granting them extra strength. The zombies thinned until she could see through their ranks and spotted Saul. “It is them. It’s Saul!”
Saul inched closer to the
