Her turn now.
Jenna grunted, sweating. She and Quentin labored side-by-side to wrangle the heavy concession stand the last few feet to form a barricade in front of the broken glass. Muscles protesting, she shoved.
Movement slithered around her. Jenna spotted two grotesque figures lurching along the street outside, stumbling over the debris littering the otherwise empty sidewalk.
Billy shifted position and tugged the corner of the heavy wood concession.
They’re so close. Jenna glanced over her shoulder to make sure nothing inside wanted to eat her. Trust Caleb and Aiko. As long as they engaged the living dead inside, she’d be okay to finish this.
She thrust with all her might, and the hulking concession stand shot forward a few inches. The movement forced another look outside. Numerous swaying undead, drenched in gangrene, converged on the theater. The mass of undead joined together to form a sea of rotting flesh.
“More coming,” Jenna shouted. “We need this done.”
With a final surge of strength and panic, they angled the concession stand against the window.
“It’s too low. They’ll just climb over it.” Fear laced Billy’s words.
Outside, death moved closer.
Without warning, Caleb approached from the shadows, holding another tall, heavy counter. “Move.”
Stumbling out of the way, Jenna watched in horror.
He stormed into the sunlight, placing the counter atop the concession, barricading the window against Streakers.
Caleb’s burning flesh filled her nose, but she ran forward and dragged him back into the darkness.
Charred flesh triggered the three remaining Streakers, who dragged decayed body parts closer. Quentin and Billy kept two at bay. A zombie, bones splintering through melted skin, ran at Jenna, reaching out hands lacking digits. Machete raised, she stood poised to decapitate the creature.
With an ear-splitting shotgun explosion, the Streaker’s skull sprayed across the carpet before it jerked violently and crumbled.
George admired his handy work. “See, little girls like you need protection. You should stay out of the fight and in the kitchen like women should.”
Ignoring the older man, Jenna refocused her attention on Caleb’s limp body. “Someone help me. Tell everyone what happened.”
Billy ran back to Theater One, banging on the door for entrance.
Peter came over. Caleb remained limp and unmoving.
“What now?” Her voice hitched.
As Peter examined Caleb, the rest of the group went to work securing the lobby and reinforcing the windows. Anything moveable added to the barricade. A remote theater became the holding cell for undead body parts that would never rise again.
“He’s burned pretty bad. Much worse than Victor was. I’ll have to find him some sustenance, or he might die,” Peter said. “Do you know anyone willing to donate some blood?”
11
Translucent film drifted in front of her eyes and then settled in the corner of the room and every time Jenna’s gaze shifted, the haze moved.
Woozy. Must be my eyes. Why does it feel like someone is rubbing steel wool all over my skin?
Red stains permeated the bandage covering her wound. Her gaze flew to Caleb.
She had volunteered the blood to save him. Not one-hundred percent, but his burns were healing rapidly, even after a few hours.
Her gaze lingered. His skin morphed slowly from burnt charcoal to baby-bottom pink.
She didn’t understand the experience. Having him suck blood from her slashed wrist wasn’t pleasant in the current circumstances. It wasn’t the horror movie she’d expected either. He’d needed so much.
“Jenna, are you paying attention?” Gus placed a hand on her arm. “Thoughts about the plan to get out of here?”
“Sorry. Not myself.”
“You should rest.”
“Why do we even need to ask her?” George rubbed a gnarled fist against his stubble.
“I’m fine.” The words were as sharp as a needle. “I like the plan. I mean it’s not great someone has to play decoy, but New Racers are fast and have a better chance of eluding the Streakers. It’ll give us time to use the fire escape from the roof and get into the cars and out of here.”
“We’ll rendezvous with them in four blocks. Let’s all hope the New Racers move quick, and we’ll gun it out of here without a long line of Streakers in tow,” Aiko said.
“What about the pile of cars?” George’s voice carried from where he leaned against a wall. He hadn’t washed from the Streaker attack, none of them had, and blood and Streaker remains stuck to his arms and shirt.
While Streaker bites and guts didn’t infect the last humans, who appeared to have some natural immunity, bites could lead to nasty infections. Most people survived those if treated quickly enough with antibiotics. Undead also never stopped attacking, so most people perished. Dinner for the already dead.
Stay here and sleep. Humans were the last of a dying breed anyway. Why get up and keep searching for something more? Nothing better than death? Sure, the virus that killed off most of the population doesn’t affect the last survivors. Thank the gods for immunity. One by one the undead took everyone important. Jenna shook the stupor away. Snap out of this. Pray the doom and gloom wasn’t a side effect of the blood donation.
“Let’s hope we’ll have enough time to move any cars or junk blocking the roadway before the Streakers catch up. We have to head out of town a different way than we came in and there’s no telling what the roads are like. We don’t have many other options.” Gus sounded like a sergeant trying to motivate his troops to head into a battle they couldn’t win.
Gus was worried about their escape. It was going to be a difficult night with no guarantee of survival.
“Let’s get cracking,” Aiko said.
Emma vacated her comfortable theater seat and came over. “You okay to help? We have a lot of organizing to do, but I’m happy to give you a medical pardon.”
“I’ll be okay. I pull my weight around here.” Nausea bubbled in her stomach and her arm ached, but she helped organized the supplies people had brought
