A/N: *Please do not distribute or post this story anywhere without my permission.* Thanks to cookiesarefood for her betaing skills.
Omega Rising
We're not gonna reach Angel's place tonight. But we'll put some distance between us and this place and we'll get to LA tomorrow. I hope to hell it's better there.
Chapter 2: On the Road
We find a house that looks empty. The owners must have left in a hurry. The front door's hanging open, and when we get closer, I see dried streaks of blood on the steps. I haven't mentioned it to Kim, because that girl is barely hanging on by a thread as it is, but I know now that what happened at the prison didn't end there. It's not just the blood here. The fact that we haven't seen any people all day, even when we've been walking down main roads, is making me nervous. And being out here at night? Is making me really nervous. Zombies are easy enough to get away from when it's just a couple of them. But you gotta see them coming.
If Kim notices the blood we walk past, she doesn't say anything about it. She's been quiet ever since the sun went down. I think she feels it too—the unease and the feeling that we're exposed out here. I pull the door shut behind us quietly and hold a finger up over my lips. Kim gives me a wide-eyed nod and clings to the back of my shirt as I do a silent sweep of the first floor. It's a zombie-free zone, and I shake her hand off. "Make sure all the doors and windows are locked," I tell her, "and don't turn on any lights. I'm gonna check upstairs."
I head for the staircase without waiting for a response. The second floor splits with a bathroom straight ahead and a room to either side. I can see the entire bathroom from where I'm standing, so I pick the room on the right and slip inside. It's a kid's room, covered in toys and the kid's drawings. It seems empty, but I check in the closet and under the bed. All clear. I lock the window and pull down the shade. One room left. I creep across the hall and go into what looks like the parents' bedroom. Nice big bed I'm looking forward to crashing in (no zombies underneath) and a walk-in closet with a bunch of clothes that look like they'll fit me. I go over to the window and check the lock. I start to pull down the shade when I hear Kim's voice from downstairs ask, "Faith?"
I run for the door immediately. She said my name quietly, like I'm downstairs with her. But if I'm up here, something else's with her. I'm half way down the steps when I hear her scream from the kitchen. There's an answering moan. I clear the kitchen doorway to find Kim smashing the zombie in the face with a skillet she grabbed from the stove. It stumbles back momentarily, then lunges for her again. The skillet connects again, hard. Kim doesn't hesitate, slamming her weapon into the zombie's skull before it can get back up. She brings the pan down on the thing's head again and again, until it's lying in a heap on the floor and she's crying and screaming, "Just fucking die! Die!"
I step around the mangled corpse and take her wrists as she tries to raise the skillet over her head again. "It's okay," I tell her softly, pulling her fingers loose from the handle. "It's okay. It's dead." She lets go, and the pan clatters to the floor. Turning her body into mine, she grabs my shirt and starts sobbing. I'm slow to put my arms around her. After a couple months inside, you get real careful about people touching you. They're either trying to fuck you or just fuck you up. It feels like a million years ago since someone's just hugged me. "Alright," I mumble awkwardly, patting her shaking shoulders. "We're alright."
Kim pulls back, wiping her nose indelicately on her sleeve. "Right. I'm okay. Sorry."
I shrug. "S'cool." I kick the unmoving body on the floor. Looks dead for good this time. "We gotta get rid of this though. Get the door?"
Kim turns the two locks in the backdoor, opening it a crack and peering out. No undead in the immediate vicinity so she pulls it open, and I grab the thing's feet and drag it outside as fast as I can. I kick it off the back porch and hustle back inside. Locking the door behind me, I head for the stairs, with Kim at my heels.
She takes the shower first. Luckily, there's no window in the bathroom, so we can turn the light on. I close the closet door behind me and flick on the light. I'm pulling out anything that looks like it'll fit me or Kim. There's an old pair of hiking boots at the back but they're too big for me. I do find jeans, t-shirts, and some thermal shirts. At first, I just grab enough for us to wear now. But as much as I don't wanna think about it, Angel and his crew could be dead. Or they could be on the move. And if that's the case, we're gonna be walking for a while because I got nowhere else to go.
Kim knocks softly at the door, and I turn the light off before I open it. I can see fine in the darkness, so I grab her hand and put it on the light switch before I leave. This whole day's been bullshit, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't looking forward to getting in this shower. It's been months since I've taken a shower without a bunch of dick-starved women scoping out my goodies. I've never been shy about my body, and for the most part I don't care if somebody's eye-fucking me. Hell, I spent like six months just trying to get Buffy to look at me like that. But it's different on the inside. There, it's not your choice. It's not attention you're getting 'cause you're all dolled up and looking to score. It's eyes on you every second of the day, every one of 'em wanting something from you. So when I step under the hot spray and pull the curtain back, I'm in heaven. I woke up this morning as a murderer looking at life inside, and now I'm standing in a shower in the middle of Zombie Nation. And I did the slayer thing, picked up some little lost fish and saved her from becoming an appetizer. Gotta say, I'm feeling alright, considering.
My leg's throbbing where the water's running over it, and I put my foot up on the wall to investigate the cut I got during our getaway. When I see it, I freeze. My calf is black and blue and right in the center is a definitely human bite mark. I drop the washcloth I'm holding. My decent mood is gone. I'm bitten. But I'm still me. What the hell does that mean? Poking at it with my fingers, I wince. It's really sore. But my slayer healing's working on it. The bite's already closing, now just a slight, scabby indent marks the place where each tooth ripped into my leg. But I'm freaking out now, and I practically leap out of the shower to ransack the bathroom for antiseptics. I find some antibacterial spray, yank the top off and dump the whole bottle over the wound. It only foams a little. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. They have Neosporin so I load it on my leg. Can't end up like Carla. Or Doreen. Please don't let me be a zombie. I don't wanna be a zombie. I realize my hands are shaking when I can't get the bandage over my bite. Fuck. Just fuck. I know I gotta calm down and get it together, but all I can think about now are their faces. Carla's screams as they all grabbed her, chewing on her arms and her face. Doreen's neck snapping back when I kicked her away from Kim. Shit. I've been trying so hard to fix my life. Doing my time even though every single night I think about how B's gonna die out there while I sit in a cell and count the cracks in the ceiling. I keep my head down. I don't get in fights. This isn't supposed to be me anymore. I don't hit people. I don't snap their necks.
It fucking scares me. How good it makes me feel to kill something. I know part of it's the slayer, but part of it's me, too. I like the rush. I like feeling tough and amazing and hard and dangerous. I don't know where I'm supposed to draw the lines. I can't do this. I'm not ready to be out. I can't be the slayer. It's the slayer's job to protect people from crazy shit. And I just sat there lifting weights when I heard the first scream. If I had any kind of slayer instinct, I would've looked up. I should have. Buffy would have. She always knows when something's not right. Like with that crazy bitch Post. Or the mayor. I always make the wrong choice. If I would have run to Carla, maybe she'd be here now with us. Instead, ugh, fuck! I punch the bathroom mirror so hard it not only shatters but I dent the wall behind it.
From down the hall I hear a little frightened squeak. And then Kim's voice, drifting closer, "Faith! Are you okay? What was that?"
"It's nothing. I'm fine," I yell back. I turn on the water in the sink and bend over to splash my face. It's okay. I'm fine. We just gotta get to Angel's. He'll know what to do. I just gotta hang on one more day.
Kim's wearing some new clothes, lying under the covers, when I get back. I go into the closet and put on some sweat pants and a t-shirt. When I slide into the other side of the bed, I can tell she's still awake. These people have some kind of fluffy mattress pad thing and I sink in so far it's like I'm lying in pudding. If the zombies break in while I'm in this bed, they'll probably just eat us both. It's dark in the bedroom and I start thinking about that bite on my leg again. I'm hoping it's a slayer thing, and we're just immune to infection from the zombies. Something to do with our wicked immune systems. But there's always the possibility that it's just taking me longer to get undead. In which case I could be ripping Kim's face off by morning.
"Do you think…" Kim's voice breaks through my thoughts. "I mean, is it safe to sleep?"
I think for a second and then slip out of bed. I close the bedroom door and shove the huge armoire in front of it. "There," I tell her, climbing back under the covers. "Might not keep 'em out but we'll hear them coming in enough time."
"Enough time for what?" She's nervous again.
"For you to get a frying pan and beat the hell outta them."
Kim's laugh is so loud and unexpected I almost jump out of my skin. We met eleven hours ago in the middle of hell, and now we're having a sleepover in some dead couple's bed. It's ridiculous but we are alive, and it's so fucking incredible that I just start laughing too. We go on until we can hardly breathe and tears are leaking from our eyes.
"Goodnight," she whispers finally, sounding tired but calm, "and Faith… thank you."
"Welcome," I acknowledge. I try not to think about my leg, and it works long enough for me to fall asleep.
XXXXX
We've developed a system since we started walking this morning. Kim walks in front with me close behind. We don't talk if we don't have to. We don't know if the zombies can smell us or not, but in case they can't, we try to keep the attention we draw to a minimum. I found a couple of hiking packs in a downstairs closet this morning, and we're both carrying extra clothes, bottled water, and whatever food we found that we could cram in our packs. We're in the 'burbs now, and as much as it freaked me out walking down empty highways, it's worse walking down these little streets. Zombies could pop out of any place, really. The only good thing, and by good I mean creepy, is that they're usually making that fucking horrible noise, so we can hear if there's a group of them nearby.
We've walked for a few hours, and by the time the sun's beating down on us, I'm starving. There's a shopping center on the right, and I jerk my head in its general direction. Kim gets the point, and we head toward a little café that looks empty enough. The windows are broken, and there's probably no food left inside, but we just need a place to sit for a couple minutes, out of the open. I climb in through the destroyed window, stepping on sliced up banners advertising, "Try our blueberry pancakes!" and "Just like Mom's home cooking!" The dining area is empty, and the place is silent, so I motion Kim in. She climbs less gracefully though the window, the glass crunching under her borrowed boots. Before we go, I'll check the kitchen and see if looters cleaned it out. No harm in loading up on food while it's still available. We claim a table in the corner where I can keep an eye outside and on the door leading into the kitchen. Kim pulls out the peanut butter and quarter loaf of bread we snagged from the house.
"Shit," I mutter, talking for the first time in hours. "We forgot to grab—" I stop talking as Kim brandishes a couple butter knives from her bag with a pleased smile. She hands one to me, and we make our sandwiches in silence.
"So," she says, while chewing her first bite, "what'd you do?"
She hasn't been in long enough to know, it's not what you did, it's why you're there, because nobody in prison is guilty of anything. We're all wrongfully convicted. I chew, swallowing mechanically. "Killed a couple people."
Kim goggles at me for a second before she looks away. "Oh."
Yeah.
"Glad to be out?" She asks with just a touch of hysteria in her voice.
Once again I find myself questioning whether all the screws are firmly in place with her, but I nod menacingly. "Real glad."
"Right." She forces a laugh and picks at her sandwich, pulling off another bite and then washing it down with some water.
"Worried now? Bet you didn't think you'd be on the road with a killer." I don't know why I'm pushing this. I don't want her to be afraid of me. But maybe she should be. I was fine when I was locked up, but we're in the wild now. Anything can happen.
Kim's raises her eyes to mine, and I'm surprised by the conviction I see there. "No."
I chuckle. "Yeah? And why not?"
"Because you're not going to hurt me." She drops her gaze to her lap, hands reaching nervously to fix her short ponytail.
"You don't know what I'm gonna do."
"I think I do." Breaking off another piece of her sandwich, she pops it into her mouth. "You didn't have to come back for me in the yard. But you did."
"So?"
"So, you don't wanna hurt me."
I'm not sure this reasoning is all that smart, but whatever. I eat some of my sandwich and watch the empty parking lot outside. "What were you in for?" I ask finally.
Kim sighs. "We stole a car."
"Who's we?"
"My umm, my best friend and I."
Maybe I'm picking up tricks from my shrink, but I know by the way she says it that 'best friend' isn't what she means. "Your girlfriend," I correct.
She looks surprised. "No. I mean, not really." Sighing, "She's straight."
"Been there," I say, polishing off my sandwich. Thinking about blonde hair and cute little tits and getting stabbed in the gut.
"Really?" Kim's looking at me with more interest now.
"Yeah." And that's about enough of this conversation. "You good to walk again?"
"Shit!" She exclaims.
"Okay, chill. We can wait a few more minutes."
"No!" She's staring behind me. "Them!"
I look. Three of them standing there, not moaning like they usually are, just watching us with great interest. "Pack the stuff," I order, getting up and moving toward the center of the room. The zombies watch me go, and the first one starts shuffling toward me. That's good. One at a time is good. Ah, fuck. The second's walking at me too. The last one groans to itself and moves in Kim's direction. So it's gonna be the more aggressive approach then. I skirt the two coming my way and hop over the counter, looking for a weapon. Nothing. God fucking damn it.
"Urgh." One of them leans across the counter toward me, extending his dirty gray hand. Across the café, Kim is backing from her chair, thrusting it between her and the zombie. There's a cut out window overlooking the kitchen and I jump up so I can lean through it. I see a knife block and snatch two from it.
"Kim!" I scream across the café and the zombies all freeze momentarily, looking at me. Kim looks too, and I fling the larger one with expert precision. She flinches when it embeds itself in the wall beside her, but she shakes off the shock and pulls it free, holding it in front of her threateningly. I got my own problems with Ugly and Uglier, so I gotta hope she can take care of herself for a minute. My two have figured out they can climb over the counter. The zombies don't fight like your average demon so it doesn't make sense to really engage them. Instead I wait for the first to stumble off the counter. When he falls at my feet, I lay my boot on his neck, and bring the knife down hard, plunging it into the bottom of his head. The professor groans as I pull the dagger out of his abdomen, my hands slick with blood. He slumps to his knees, and his mouth slackens. I wipe my hands down my thighs. He's never going to talk again. The zombie is still under my boot. I shake my head. Get it together, Faith. His buddy's not gonna wait while you have a mental breakdown.
The other one is more graceful, and he arrives on his feet. He lurches forward fast, and my blade glances off his chin. His drooling mouth is almost at my neck so I'm forced to wrap my hands around his head to twist. His skin feels soft, swollen with pus and body gases trapped under his flesh. I yank the disgusting former human's face aside hard and he strains in my arms. Before I can break his neck, there's a squeak from Kim's corner. I look over to find her zombie decapitated and two men with swords standing next to her. My zombie struggles, trying to pull my fingers to his hungry mouth. I twist, letting him drop at my feet.
There are a few shambling shadows moving in the kitchen, but I got a worse feeling about what's happening out here. I vault over the counter, forcing my walk to a casual stride. Something uncoils in my stomach, something predatory that makes my muscles quiver.
"Nice kill," the one closest to Kim says, looking me up and down appreciatively.
I flick my eyes past him, take in the knife still clutched in Kim's trembling fingers. "Looks like lunch is over," I tell her. "Why don't you grab the bags and let's get out of here?"
She nods and takes a step in my direction. As she reaches for her backpack, the guy's fingers close over her wrist. Her brown eyes fly back to mine, obviously nervous. I let my gaze wander to the two armed men. The one holding Kim's arm is handsome, with dark hair and eyes. It's a shame I'm gonna have to break that pretty face.
"I'm gonna give you one chance," I offer, "to get your fucking hands off her." I know guys like this. They're all over the prison system. They get off on the power to make other people do whatever they want. They walk and talk like men, but they're animals. And the cage doors are wide open now.
He waggles his brow comically, and his friend, who is obviously more intelligent, laughs nervously. "That's not very friendly," dark eyes taunts. "I just saved your friend's life."
"Let's just go, Jeff," his friend cuts in nervously.
"You should listen to him," I say. "Let her go."
"Alright," He agrees before yanking Kim across his body and tossing her roughly into his surprised friend's arms. "You're more my type anyway." He crosses the distance between us quickly, pulling me flush against him.
"Yeah?" My fingers curl into a tight fist. What he doesn't get yet, because he's been in the cage too long, is that he's not the worst thing out here. He might be a wolf in a man suit; but I'm a fucking lion. "Well, you aren't mine." When my fist meets his face, he stumbles back, crashing into the table behind him. This guy isn't too bright I guess, because he gets back up, rubbing his jaw. I only hit him at half strength, but if he was smart, he'd have stayed down.
From the swinging door to the kitchen, the first of the dead emerges, gazing at us with glazed over bloodshot eyes. She shambles out as the leader in a group of six. We've gotta motor. I'm not liking these odds, and I'm sure as hell not relying on these two dickheads for back-up. I step over to where our packs are laying on the floor and scoop them up. Jeff reaches for my arm, and I casually whip his wrist back so hard it cracks. His scream galvanizes the zombies and they begin to make their way to us. Soon we'll be boxed in.
"Here." I shove Kim's pack into her arms and shrug mine fully on. The one guy is still whimpering about his wrist, and the other one's eyes are darting back and forth between the zombies and the exit. "Let's go," I say quietly, pushing Kim ahead of me toward the broken window.
Jeff uses his good arm to grab Kim's bag. She's dragged back, limbs flailing like a ragdoll. I do not have time for this shit. A forceful tug rips Kim forward, and before he can try again, I spin, kicking him away from us. He falls into the crowd of zombies, and they immediately start grabbing at him. "No!" He shouts, struggling. "Help me! You can't—" The rest of his sentence transforms into a wail as the first of the dead bites into his shoulder. The hoard lets out a communal thrilled moan as they each vie for a place at the buffet.
Oh, God. Oh, God. I did that. I threw him into those things. "Faith, c'mon." Kim's fingers are pulling at my sleeve. The other guy is already climbing out the window, not losing any sleep over his friend it seems. I'm still looking at the scene I just caused. I can't see his face anymore; the hoard has fallen on top of him. They hunch over him, moaning with frustration or delight, depending on whether they can sink their stained teeth into his still moving body. I can see one of his hands, still clawing at the dusty café floor. Buffy's struggling with the vampire, but he's got his tie wrapped around her throat and he squeezes it tighter and tighter. Her eyes are huge with fear as he opens his mouth, leaning toward her neck. I could save her. Or I could let her die. "Faith!" Kim screams in my ear, and I shake my head. Fuck.
"Yeah, go!" We run for the window. They aren't gonna be satisfied with that one body for long, and there'll be one more hungry zombie in a few minutes. We gotta get out of here.
Kim trips out ahead of me, almost faceplants, and then hauls ass across the parking lot. I can outrun her easily, but I keep pace with her, forcing her to run as hard as she can to keep up. The guy who got away is running too, and he waves at us to follow him. I'm tempted to flip him off, but his buddy's screaming seems to have alerted every zombie within hearing distance. We're almost at the road, and they're stumbling across the yards in front of the houses across the street. One roars in frustration from inside the screen door of a house before he rips through it and falls down the stairs.
We veer left, following the guy. "I've got a bike!" He shouts while we all keep running. He runs into the mouth of a narrow alley between two stores. "We parked right back here!"
"Wait!" I shout back. He's leading us into a space too small to get out of. If there are zombies on the other side, we'll get boxed in. Kim slows, looking back toward me.
"Come on!" He yells, already pulling the keys out of his pocket.
I step forward and take Kim's arm just as a door opens from one of the stores, and three zombies spill into the alley. Two more appear ahead of him, blocking the mouth of the alley.
"Look out!" Kim screams futilely. He turns to come back in our direction, but the other zombies are already reaching for him as they walk closer.
His terrified eyes meet mine. "Just run!" I order. Maybe he can make it through the two on other side without getting bitten.
"I can't!" He shrieks. He looks down at his hand and then back at me.
"No!" I say when I see what he's planning. "You gotta try! Just run past them!"
He nods, pulling himself closer to the wall of the alley as they close in. "I'll see you back there." He pitches the keys through the air and they land a couple yards from our feet.
Kim doesn't waste any time, just dives forward and scoops them up. The zombies who've been coming toward the parking lot are getting too close for comfort now. We're gonna be in the same situation as this dude if we don't move. There are a couple more doors leading into the two stores, and who knows what's on the other side, but we can't stay out here. I grab the closest one and yank it open, breaking the flimsy lock securing it. As I pull it shut again behind the two of us, I hear the first scream from the alley. We're on our own again.
XXXXX
We're on the highway again, trying to clear the last few miles to Los Angeles. The rumble of the bike draws everything dead toward us, but the good thing is that we're going so fast they can't bite us unless they manage to catch us and drag us off.
The road is blocked by crashed and abandoned cars. The sun's out, and everything is bright and surprisingly quiet. Kim's arms are threaded around my waist, her body tucked tight against my backpack. The wind flings my hair into her face and she laughs, forgetting for a moment where we are. If I concentrate on the feel of the bike thrumming under us, slim arms warm against my stomach, sunshine on my face, it's almost like we're normal. I never went to prison. I saved up and bought this old bike. She's definitely seen better days, and she could use a little wash and wax. But she's mine. My girl sitting behind me, pressing her face into my neck, her thighs along my thighs. Blonde hair loose and wild. But that's not real. Real is weaving the bike slowly around the dangling bumpers and the still smoldering burned out cars. It's the almost imperceptible tightening of Kim's grip on me when we drive by a pair of zombies sitting on the side of the road. They're both gnawing at opposite sides of a dead deer. Kim gags.
"You need me to stop?" I ask, eyeing the two nervously. I don't know where the hell we'll stop, but I'm not letting her puke in my hair either.
"No," she mutters, turning her face to the side, "just go."
We're still moving when the sun starts to go down. We didn't even stop to eat again because I've been trying to make it to LA tonight. My stomach rumbles in frustration. A peanut butter sandwich wasn't really enough to last me all day. We're gonna have to turn off soon and find a place to hole up. I don't wanna be out once it's dark and we can't see them coming. Even now, with the sun just beginning to set, more of the dead seem to be out. They stumble through the shadows, their bloated fingers reaching toward our arms and legs, trying to grab us.
Just when I think we can't go any further, we ease around a curve and I see it. The Los Angeles skyline. It's dark now so I'm guessing the electricity's already given out. Wonderful. We take the next exit. The ramp is even more jammed up than the freeway. More zombies too. Kim's breath comes out in an anxious hiss, and all her limbs press tighter into me, tucking us together as closely as she can.
One shoulder's clearer than the other, with only two smashed in cars and a few of the dead wandering around with that stupid blank look on their faces. I gun it, being less careful than before, but it pays off. One of their grappling hands lands on Kim's leg, and she screeches, but then we're flying past them and we've overshot the road at the bottom. The zombies are moaning, coming down the ramp after us, while more drag themselves down the street we've just crossed.
I try to cut back toward the road, and the bike tilts, spilling us both off. I hear Kim cry out as I land hard, sliding on my shoulder. Shit. I get up as fast I can, and she does the same, roughly scraping off gravel that's embedded itself in her cheek and palms.
"That way!" I gesture to our left, which still looks pretty clear of zombies. "Look for some place we can get in."
"What are you doing?" She shrieks back when she sees me backtracking toward our fallen bike and straight into the path of the shambling zombies. "Come on!"
"Just run!" I order her, yanking the bike upright and trying to start it up.
She sobs as she turns and runs away from me, giving wide leeway to a trio of dead men who look quite interested in her.
Start, you fucker. I turn the key again, but the engine just whines. The sound of unfeeling feet dragging slowly across the concrete behind me forces me to abandon my plan. I drop the bike again and take off after Kim, running as hard as I can.
I skirt the three zombies who are trying to catch up to Kim and they let out a frustrated moan. Just as I reach her back, shit goes from bad to worse. The dead have begun spilling from the stores lining the block. They're closing in on the street, and soon they'll be walking right in front of us.
"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" Kim chants. All the stores are wrecked, their windows broken and doors hanging from their hinges. Even if there were no zombies inside waiting for us, we'd have no way of keeping the ones in the street out. The horde stumbles closer, forcing us to run on the sidewalk and avoid the groping arms of undead who haven't figured out how to escape the buildings yet. Kim screams as their swollen, rotting fingers snag our clothes.
They're everywhere. We stop running and draw back against a stretch of brick wall as they close in. I shove her behind me like it matters if they eat me first or not. I'm desperate, looking over their heads for any way we can get out of this. A few yards ahead, there's a narrow opening. Probably an alley. We're probably gonna get bitten on the way there, and even if we don't, they'll just follow us in… But it's something. Kim's fingers are threaded into my shirt, her trembling body pressed tight into mine. I gotta try something, if not for me at least for her.
I wheel and grab her wrist, keeping her between me and the wall. Yanking Kim after me, I charge forward. With no weapons I can only hold my arm out rigidly, bent at an angle and used as a makeshift battering ram. The first two zombies are knocked off balance, but the next grabs my arm and tries to yank it into his mouth. He bites down and gets a mouthful of jacket. I drag all three of us the last few feet to the mouth of the alley and shove Kim inside. I ram the heel of my now free hand into the zombie's forehead, dazing it so it's forced to let go. Behind him, the street is full of his kind, all of them salivating, moaning, and reaching their horrible hands toward the alley. And us.
"Kim!" I yell backwards, as she starts yanking on doors and cursing when she finds them locked.
"I'm trying!"
I'm trying too, trying to keep these bastards from entering the alley. I let my body fall into the familiar rhythm of combat. My fists and feet fly as if independent of me, pounding into their unfeeling flesh over and over again. My kneecaps bruise from ramming into their bloated stomachs, and my elbow aches from knocking into their skulls. I manage to keep them at bay for a few moments, but it's hard when your enemy is less concerned with engaging than he is with getting by you to the snack at the end of the street. The first of them stumbles by me, in search of an easier meal. I kick back the two directly in front of me and race past the fleeing zombie.
Kim's pounding on a pair of thick wooden doors. We've only got seconds until that zombie reaches us, and his buddies aren't far behind. I shove her away and throw myself into the door, full slayer strength. It groans and a crack appears. I pull back and throw myself forward again. Before I can connect, it's yanked open from the inside, and I go flying through, colliding with a chair and falling hard. The door slams shut again and Kim's on her knees next to me, helping me sit up.
She starts to say something but freezes when we hear a soft click.
A man stands behind us, leveling a shotgun at our faces. "Who the hell are you?"
XXXXX
Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! :)