“Oh good, I get a crowd for my performance,” he drawled and then lit up the liquid in the dish.
It burned brightly, and he took a step back, picking up the can. He aimed the nozzle down and began to pour. As soon as the stream hit the fire, flames leapt up into it, and Dixon flung his arm side to side, sending plumes of flaming liquid into the horde. After a few good sprays, he reared back and lobbed the canister as hard as he could.
Flaming liquid spun wildly as the can floated through the air, coating every zombie it came into contact with. Soon, the darkness of the night was illuminated with flaming corpses.
“Damn,” Dixon breathed, swiping his palms together, “that worked better than I thought.”
He backed up slowly, watching as the bulk of the horde began to come after him. Some of the ghouls started to collapse from flame damage, and before long, the fire started to tamp down, but the zombies were sufficiently drawn towards him.
“Hope they’re ready,” he muttered, and turned, jogging back to the tree line, pushing through to the fence. When he reached it, Ayers, Hurst, and two others stood there armed with bats, hammers, and a sharpened pool cue.
Dixon hopped the fence to join them.
“I saw the tail end of that,” Ayers declared. “I had no idea you were such a wild man.”
Dixon smirked. “You should see me when I know I have an audience,” he declared. The men shared a chuckle, and then he continued, “If you men got this, I’m going to go check on the others, and make sure we’re good to go up there. Because once this is clear, we have to do the same thing all the way to the docks.”
“We got you, man,” Hurst assured him. “Go do what you got to do.”
Dixon nodded and headed away from the line as the first few zombies approached. He listened to the sound of cracking skulls, smiling to himself in the knowledge that they were one step closer to success.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Herrera led his team through the neighborhood towards the school. They took out a couple of zombies hanging out in the side yard of a house, efficiently and quietly, as if they were more of a nuisance than a threat.
The group took a knee and looked out at the school, a mid-sized building smaller than the average Super Center. A decently sized pack of ghouls milled about out front, several dozen, it looked like. Towards the back, where the sports fields sprawled, there were almost a hundred monsters spread across. Near the back of the school was a smaller pack, no more than a dozen.
The Corporal pointed to the rear. “We get in through the back windows, then find our way to the cafeteria.”
“What about the door on the side of the building?” Greer asked, pointing to a lone door along a brick wall in the center, looking flush with no handle.
“That looks like a fire door,” Gilbert said quietly.
Herrera nodded. “That’s our exit point, then,” he confirmed. “Once we set this to blow, we’re going to have to move quickly.”
“Weapons?” Choi asked.
The Corporal held up his knife. “Melee only until we set the fire, then all bets are off,” he replied. “Questions?”
The soldiers shook their heads.
“Let’s move out,” Herrera said, and then led the group away from the house, sprinting across the street to the school. Their footsteps were loud, attracting a little attention from the field zombies, who turned and began to shamble in their direction.
The soldiers ignored them, rushing straight towards the closest window they could find. As they reached the building, Herrera and Gilbert ran forward, jamming their blades into the two closest zombies. Meanwhile, Choi used the butt of his rifle to smash a window.
“We’re in!” he hissed, and then knelt down, creating a step stool out of his thigh.
Greer boosted up first, diving inside and immediately hopping up to clear the small classroom. The door was shut, and he checked it to make sure it was secure, and then turned to help the others inside.
Herrera entered last, glancing over his shoulder to see that the field zombies were still a good distance away. He hauled himself up onto the window ledge and Eason pulled him in.
“Everybody good?” the Corporal asked.
There was a collective murmur in the affirmative, and he nodded, heading for the classroom door. He peeked out through the tiny window, seeing nothing but darkness, and pulled out his flashlight.
“Gonna have to risk it,” he muttered, and then shone the light through the window.
There was nothing in the hallway close to the door that he could see, so he cracked it open and shone the flashlight down the hall, lighting up half a dozen zombies that immediately turned towards the disturbance.
“Six down the hall,” Herrera said, “let’s clear ‘em out.”
The soldiers walked out of the classroom, drawing their own flashlights as well. They stalked up the hallway, ready to throw down with the rival zombie gang. As they approached, Choi and Gilbert grabbed the first two ghouls and flung them up against lockers on opposite sides of the hall to take them out, clearing the path for the others to move up.
The rest stepped through the gap and quickly stabbed the remaining creatures, clearing the hallway. When they reached the crossroads, the Corporal shone his flashlight in each direction. The main hallway had a few stragglers towards the end, while the other two directions were clear.
He illuminated the wall, seeing a small sign reading LUNCH ROOM with an arrow pointing down one of the unoccupied hallways.
“Gilbert, Choi, stay here and make sure our escape route is clear,” Herrera said. “Greer, Eason, you’re with me.” He waved to them, and they joined him as Gilbert and Choi kept their flashlights trained on the creatures at the far end of the hall. Thankfully, the zombies seemed uninterested in the light.
The Corporal led the
