A/N: We have a guest narrator today! Chapter 7 is told from Francis' point of view. If there's ever a change in point of view, I will put the person's name in italics to indicate it. Please read & review.

Chapter 7

Francis Dixon

"Well shit."

It was inelegant, I know, but look at me. 1992 called and wants its black jeans back. Wifebeater and a leather vest. I have tattoos, for Christ sake. I'm not what you would consider eloquent, even when I'm not up to my neck in zombies-which I was at the moment.

The building was on fire, Bill was on the other side of a wall of flames, and Louis and Zoey were behind me-safe, I hoped. Truth be told, they were all growing on me, even the old dude. And Zoey-well, Zoey was something to consider when this mess was over.

I was nearly covered in blood by the time there were no more zombies left to kill. Thankfully, the sprinklers had come on to deal with the fire Zoey's molotov had started, and they had nearly put out the fire, giving me a shower at the same time.

"Bill!" I shouted down the hall. There was no answer, only the sound of struggle. "Louis, can you-?"

"Yeah," he said. Louis was a good guy like that. I took off down the hall at full speed, leaping over the remaining fire and bounding in to the operating room just in time to kick the smoker's ass off Bill. He fell in a cloud of smoke and I knelt to help him up.

"Whoa," I said with a chuckle. "I thought you were hosed for sure. But I think I can get you back on your feet." Bill gave me an old-dude death glare. "Come on or I'll help you up by the beard."

"Francis, one of these days I'm gonna-"

"BILL! FRANCIS?"

The alarm in Louis' voice raised the hair on the back of my neck. Hell, even my goatee hair was on edge. We turned and saw him cradling Zoey against his chest. "Aw hell, kid," Bill gasped, and moved faster than anyone his age had any business moving. I was close on his heels, skidding to a halt at Louis' side.

"She's breathing, but she's out," said Louis.

I heard a rush of footfalls in the distance and grimaced. "Gimme," I said, seizing Zoey's form from Louis. I slung her over my shoulder as gently as I could. Bill was studying me as I stood up and stepped into the elevator. "What?" I demanded.

"Nothing, just be careful with her," Bill said, following me onto the elevator. Louis brought up the rear, slapping the 40 button. The elevator shook as it ascended through the shaft. I tilted my head, pressing my ear to Zoey's side and was relieved to hear her steady, shallow breathing.

"Jesus, how far up are we going?" I grumbled, staring at the elevator panel as if that would make it move faster. "I hate elevators."

"Yeah, well, I'll be damned if we were taking the stairs," said Bill. "I hate stairs."

"What do you hate, Louis?"

We both turned to look at Louis, who took on a thoughtful look. After a moment, he shook his head and shrugged. I sighed and muttered, "I hate that Louis doesn't hate anything."

We waited in tense silence as the elevator climbed. Finally the bell chimed and the doors opened. "This isn't the roof," I said sourly.

"No shit," said Bill. "It's uncanny the things you notice, Francis."

We crept forward, dispatching the zombies in our path. I had to use my pistols as I carefully carried Zoey. We walked along the construction zone, rain occasionally slanting in to splash against the work surface. Stormclouds had gathered over Fairfield and it all seemed a little too poetic for me.

As we rounded a corner, I heard a warning noise a little too late. The witch caught me by surprise, screaming at my intrusion in her space. "Louis!" I shouted, tossing Zoey like a ragdoll to Louis. He caught her-thank God-but the witch shoved me hard enough to knock the wind out of me.

I grappled with the freaky bitch, but I couldn't overpower her. We struggled and thrashed until we both went over the side of the building. My hand caught the rough edge of a two-by-four stud in the construction area, but she wasn't so lucky. I heard her screaming sob until it stopped suddenly thirty stories below.

"I'm in some trouble," I called to the group above. I looked up to see Bill standing there, lighting a cigarette. As he tucked his cigarette lighter back into his jacket pocket, I said, "Can I get some help?"

"Hold your horses," said Bill, crouching down. He grabbed my wrist and, with his help, I scrambled up the side of the building. "There ya go."

"Maybe it would be a good idea to stay on the building." I was so relieved to hear Zoey's voice I nearly laughed out loud-until I remembered that I hated laughing out loud. "Honestly, Francis, that's Zombie Survival Guide page one."

"You may want to brush up on it," I retorted, reaching down to offer her a hand up. She put her hand in mine and I hauled her to her feet and patted her shoulders. "How'd you wake up, anyway?"

"I don't know," she said. "I guess it was the cold rain," she said, turning so we could both help Louis up off the ground. "How did I get on top of Louis? Not that I'm complaining, Louis."

"I sort of... threw you at him," I explained sheepishly. I raised a brow as Zoey's cheeks flushed a little.

"You were holding me?" she asked, looking down at her rifle to fiddle with the shoulder strap. I got the distinct impression that she was avoiding my eyes.

"I wasn't going to just leave you there," I told her, turning her by the shoulder and giving her a gentle push in the direction we had been heading when the Witch interrupted me. "I hope it wasn't over the line."

"No, Francis." I glanced down as I felt Zoey's fingers wrap around my bicep and squeeze lightly as we picked out way through the construction zone. There were just a few more infected before the saferoom door was closed securely behind us. "Thank you."

"None of us would leave you for those vampires," I explained.

Three voices responded in unison: "They're zombies, Francis." Inwardly I smirked; these guys were too easy.