Enia: There's nothing a writer likes better than to know their work is being read and enjoyed. Like my elementary school guidance teacher used to say, it gives us the warm fuzzies, not the cold prickleys. Theultimate, I want to thank you for all your support. It means so much to me. There's only one way I can think of to thank you properly. This chapter is dedicated to you. Also, happy birthday. (I hope I got the date right).

REWRITTEN 6/9/16

Like Kings

"Enia!" Samik called desperately as I took off running. His footsteps started to thump, close behind me, but I flicked my hand in his direction, and a wave of heat washed across my back. "Enia!" he repeated, sounding frustrated, and the patter of his footsteps came to a halt, forced into silence by the wall of fire. Any one of my friends could get through the barrier easily if they wanted to, but generally, when a girl threw up a wall of fire, she didn't want to be followed.

I turned the first corner I came to, finding it empty but for a fallen, frozen body which I refused to look at. I scrambled up the nearest fire escape, ran across the roof of the building, and jumped back down to the streets on the far side. I spun left as soon as my feet touched the ground, careening blindly around three more corners. My boots splashed through dirty piles of half melted snow and frozen red slush that, in another world, could have been a cherry slushy.

I skidded into another narrow alley and crashed into an obstruction without warning, without seeing. I bounced off and slammed to the ground, skidding through the snow and flipping head over heels once to come to a halt in a low crouch. Ten feet away, something hit the stone with a thud.

"Ow!" grumbled a boy's voice. "What the hell?"

He sat up, rubbing his head, and spotted me almost immediately. Eyes widening, he jumped to his feet and whipped a handgun out from under his leather jacket, stabbing it at my head. I shot up and pointed a quickly crafted finger gun at him in return.

He looked at my hand, an eyebrow raised, and then up at my face, his expression blank and stunned. "What is that?"

I glanced down my arm and shrugged slightly. "It's a finger gun."

"Seriously?"

"What?" I asked, honestly confused.

"I'm pointing a real gun with real bullets at you," the boy shook his weapon for emphasis, "and you respond with a finger gun?"

"It's very dangerous," I promised, using my best menacing voice. "You would be wise to be wary of it."

The boy threw his free hand into the air as if he believed something would come down and agree with him. "It's a finger!

"Yes, I think we've established that," I quipped, but he bowled over me.

"Where are your actual weapons? Don't you know that there are ravenous, flesh-eating zombies everywhere?"

"Of course I know that," I responded hotly. "What do you think I am, stupid?"

He thumped his palm against his forehead. He obviously thought I was stupid. The sheer idiocy of the situation and the dumbfounded look on the boy's face began to chase the dark fog banks out of my mind, and I found myself beginning to grin again. My moods were like rainy season monsoons – there and gone again in an instant.

"You're weird," the boy informed me.

"Your face is weird," I shot back instantly, using my non-finger gun hand to shove at my hair.

He boy gaped at me, almost at a loss for words. "Are you…like…?" He floundered for the correct descriptor.

"Mentally unstable?" I supplied, smirking.

He shrugged slightly. "Well, those weren't the exact words I was going to use, but…yes. In essence."

"I could be," I laughed and rubbed at my chin contemplatively. A stiff breeze ran across my face, and I shivered slightly. The days were getting colder it seemed. "It's a distinct possibility. But I don't think that I'm totally unstable. Maybe just a little bit."

The boy opened his mouth and then closed it again a moment later, shaking his head in disbelief. I grinned widely, joy flooding through my system again. No more brooding. No more doom and gloom. At least for the moment.

I heard a scuff and a scrape rasp across the ground behind the boy, and then I saw a flash of disjointed, awkward movement. "Get down," I ordered harshly, muscles tensing.

The stranger dropped without hesitation. A muncher with a bloody throat took his place. Its mouth was open, but no sound issued forth, and its skin dripped off its face like slime dripping off a slug.

I squeezed my thumb down and, like I had pulled the trigger of a real gun, a bullet of fire shot from the tip of my index finger to bury itself in the muncher's head. It tumbled backwards, its skull splitting when it struck the frozen ground, and its brain spilled out across the cement, smoking slightly. I sighed. If only I could twirl my hand like I would a real gun.

The boy regained his feet and snapped his neck around to look between the prone corpse and me. "Did you…did you just kill that zombie with your finger gun?"

I shifted my eyes back and forth shadily. "Maybe."

"How did you do it?"

"I didn't."

A confused expression fell over his face. "Didn't what?"

"That."

"What the hell do you mean by 'that'?"

I gestured vaguely, laughing hysterically on the inside. "Oh, you know."

"No, I don't," he said through gritted teeth, exasperated.

"Oh, well, sorry."

The boy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I give up."

The winter wind picked up. The alley we stood in protected us from the worst of it, but outside our shelter it sounded fierce, howling and moaning like a beast out of hell. The boy's hand tightened unconsciously on his gun. It was the sort of wind that wormed its way into your instincts, tightening them and convincing them that something horrible was about to happen. I stared out at the street, unblinking, and then I realized the truth.

The trees weren't moving.

"That's not a storm," I said slowly, feeling out each word for size. "Not in the normal sense of the word, anyways."

"What are you talking about?" He pushed past me and stepped out into the street, gun held out before him as he swept it from side to side. "There's no wind."

"So what's making that noise?" I said, though I was pretty sure I already knew what it was.

The back of my neck prickled like ghosts whispering messages. Slowly, I turned around, not really wanting to see whatever hell was behind me, what was filling the alley with the stench of blood and hunger and death, but knowing that I had to see for sure.

"Oh shit," I said calmly as I stared at the mob crowding desperately towards me. "Run."

The boy rolled his eyes. "Of fucking course there's a giant mob of zombies behind us."

"I call them munchers," I said and grabbed his hand as I shot away in the opposite direction, nearly jerking him off his feet as I spun him around.

"Woah!" he yelped, stumbling to regain his footing.

"Run!" I repeated more forcefully.

"Where should we go?"

I glanced around as I ran. The mob was quite a bit larger than it had first appeared. Munchers were staggering into the street from all directions, clogging the arteries in the road made by the stalled and crashed cars. The boy squeezed off a shot, and the bullet punched straight through a corpse's nose, obliterating its face and leaving behind a gory, dripping hole. The body didn't fall.

I grabbed his wrist before he could try again. "No, save your bullets. There are too many of them, and we're going to want them later."

The boy nodded breathlessly and shoved the gun into his belt. "Where do we go?"

I searched the streets, quickly assessing every possibility. Finally, I pointed towards a building that's entrance was smashed to bits but protected from two sides by a pair of crashed cars. "That one. We'll head to the roof."

"Let's move then."

I ducked around a muncher that managed to get to close to us, and we sprinted towards the store, snow crunching under our feet. I bent down and scooped up an abandoned metal pipe, using it to dash away a reaching arm. The munchers were closing fast, faster than I'd expected, pouring over the cars and clogging up the entrance to our goal. "We're not going to make it!" the boy yelled and began to slow.

I tightened my grip on his hand. "Yes, we will!"

"Are you crazy?" His voice cracked on the last syllable. "No, we won't!"

"We can't fucking turn back now!"

I bashed the teeth in on a female muncher who popped up before me like a Whack-A-Mole. It toppled backwards, shards of grimy, yellow teeth flying through the air and disappearing into the snow. I desperately wanted to use my magic, but I didn't know how the boy would react. I didn't need him freaking out on me. It was a dumb thing to worry about, though, because if it came down to protecting our lives or protecting my secret, I would hesitate.

I swung my pipe like a baseball bat. The boy drew his gun and began to fire. We were ten feet from the door, and there were only a few munchers left in our way, looking like pop-up props in a haunted house.

"Why the hell don't you have a weapon?" the boy demanded. A muncher's face dissolved in a shower of blood beneath a point blank shot.

"I do!" I protested.

"That metal pipe? You picked that up two minutes ago."

"I was out for a stroll! Who brings weapons when they go for a stroll?"

"Do you not see the zombies all around us?"

"People always say I'm not very observant." I planted my foot in a muncher's chest and shoved sharply. It tumbled drunkenly into one of its companions, and the two of them were swallowed by ever-churning crowd. We burst through the last line of obstacles, and suddenly, we were right beside the doorway. The dark interior of the building loomed before us, the contents of its stomach hidden from us.

"Ha! Take that suckers!" I yelled and jabbed my two middle fingers into the air, my tongue stuck out.

We darted inside the building, feet skidding across the slushy ice, and the shadows swallowed us. My pupils expanded to let in as much light as possible as I struggled to search the looming dark spots for threats. "See," I puffed. "I told you we'd make it. Now help me find the stairs."

"Hm." The boy pulled a flashlight from his belt and shined its beam around as the munchers began to press themselves into the building. They seemed to stick together into a giant, rectangular box as they went through the mold made by the doorway. The small light fell onto a staircase protruding out of the left side of the room. "Found them."

I kicked another muncher away with a snarl. "Lead the way."

We ran through the dark store, dodging spilled merchandise and the odd disemboweled customer, the munchers in hot pursuit. Well, more like lukewarm pursuit. We quickly pulled away from them as they struggled to navigate the shattered obstacles on the floor. The boy led the way up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and I spun around to knock a shelf over and crush the closest of our pursuers.

"Holy shit!"

Instantly, I twisted back around, and the metal pipe burst into flames, blue and flickering. The boy was on the ground on the platform at the top of the first flight of stairs, a muncher on top of him, both of them fighting for his life. I lunged forward, pipe outstretched, and drilled one end into the cadaver's head. The flesh around the jagged hole crackled and began to smoke, and the stench of burning brain wafted into the air. I shoved the munched to the side and hauled the boy upright with the hand not holding the pipe, clenching his shoulder to hold him place as I stared into his eyes. "Did it get you?"

"No." His voice was stead, but beneath my fingers, he was shaking like a thousand leaves.

"Are you sure?" I demanded.

"Yes!" he snapped, shaking me off. "I'm fine."

"Then move." I shoved him towards the second set of stairs.

We didn't stop moving until we reached the roof, pushing our way through the access door. Down below, the echoes of the slow, unsteady footsteps of the dead rose up to us on ponderous dragon's wings. "We have to close the door," the boy said, grabbing the knob.

I stretched out a hand to stop him, knocking his fingers away. "No, leave it."

"Are you crazy?" His pupils dilated in shock as he stared at me, his mouth popped open slightly.

"I believe that is the third time you've asked me that and has my answer ever changed?" I asked sassily, rolling my eyes.

The boy's head dropped to the side, and he gave me a perfected painted exasperated expression.

"We're going to let them come to us," I explained, figuring I owed him at least that.

"We can't fight them all!" he protested, pulling himself away and throwing his arms in the air. "We don't have enough ammunition to kill them all!" He turned on his heel and began to hurry away from me, searching for a way out.

"We don't have to," I said, calmly examining my nails. "They're going to do it themselves."

He spun back around, having pull the gun from his belt again. "What the hell do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes as a frosty gust of wind blew across the wind, plucking at the hem of my leather jacket and tousling my hair. "Dear Cheese in the Sky, did you ever actual read Zombie Survival Guide?"

He narrowed his eyes to stare at me. "…Dear Cheese in the Sky…?"

Of course that was what he had picked up on. I ignored him and gestured around me broadly. "Where are we?"

"…On a rooftop?"

I nodded sagely. "And what's around us?"

Finally, an understanding smile lit up his face as he gazed around the scenery. "Other rooftops."

"Now you're getting it," I said, grinning back at him. "Come on."

The closet rooftop sat to our left, an easy jump. I sprinted towards the edge of the roof, arms pumping, legs churning, the wind whipping around my limps, and leapt of the building, using the ledge of the roof as a spring board. To me, there was no greater feeling than flying through the air. Nothing to weigh me down. Nothing but empty space in every direction, all the way around me. It made one feel like king of the world. Or queen.

I hit the other roof and rolled, dropping onto one shoulder and coming back to my feet just in time to see the munchers pour out of the other building. They located us in an instant and came shambling our way en masse. A few feet away from me, the boy staggered up right, wincing as he rubbed his elbow. "Goddamn, that hurt."

I didn't reply, too busy staring at the approaching dead. Not too long ago, they had been just like us.

"What I want to know," the boy continued, wheezing, "now that we're all safe or whatever, is why the hell your pipe was on fire."

I finally turned to look at him, creaking my neck around as if I were on the Exorcist. "What are you talking about?" I asked, innocently.

"Your bloody pipe was on fire!" he yelled.

"Uh, no, it wasn't."

The boy stuffed his gun back into his belt in angry disbelief. "Yes, it was! I saw it!"

"I think you might be seeing things." I fixed my face into a mask of concern, nodding wisely as if I had all the answers in the world. "Do you have a history of hallucinations?"

"No!" he shouted, and his fists bunched at his sides.

A loud, wet splat and a crunch interrupted my bit of fun. The first muncher had fallen off the roof, and when I moved to the ledge and peered over, it was splattered across the street, not a bit of it recognizable as a former humanoid. Two more quickly followed right behind it, painting the walls and soaking the snow.

I propped my foot up on the ledge and tapped my toe rapidly, staring contemplatively across the space between the two buildings. "Who decides it?" I asked quietly.

"Decides what?" The boy stepped up beside me and grimaced as caught a glimpse of the carnage below.

"Who lives and who…falls off the roof."

He didn't hesitate before answering, a fact that amazed me sincerely. "We do. Everyday. With the choices we make and the things we do."

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "You don't believe in some higher force?"

"Hell no." He snorted derisively and cracked his knuckles one by one.

"Me neither," I agreed. "I always did think that was a load of bullshit."

He let out a laugh, the incongruity of my crude words against the crisp weather and the morbid situation creating tension and comedy. "Yeah."

"Death is stupid," I continued, my voice heating up. "And pointless. People shouldn't die. And they shouldn't go down without a fight. Theirs is always something that can be done."

"Not always."

I glared at him, my nostril curling. "Yes, always."

Seeing the bite of stubbornness in my eyes, he held up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay."

I returned my gaze at the stupid ones who continued to throw themselves to their doom in a futile attempt to obtain what they wanted. Between life and death, it didn't seem like much had actually changed for them. "What does this make us?" I wondered.

"You really have to learn to specify what you're talking about," the boy informed me.

"Us. The survivors." I ruffled my head again and scratched at my neck. "What are we now?"

He shrugged. It didn't much matter to him. "We're whatever we want to be. We can be survivors. Or we can be something more. We're all that's left. In a way, you could say we're like kings; we have to protect what's left and fight to make things better."

I smiled slowly, warming to the idea bit by bit. I could do that. I could fight for something more than just surviving. I was made for this, made to fight the never-ending fight. "You're right. Thank you."

"For what?" he asked, puzzled.

"I was having…some issues," that didn't even seem like the correct word, "that I'm not sure I entirely comprehend. But I've got them all figured out now, one way or another. I know what I have to do."

I had to save the world.

"Glad to be of service." He stuck out his hand.

I shook it, pumped firmly it up and down twice, and then I glanced up briefly at the darkening sky. Tonight, the sunset was watery and distilled across the horizon like spilled oil. "I really have to be going. It was nice to meet you. Maybe I'll see you again?"

He shook his head once ruefully. "Probably not."

"Yeah." I backed away and made my way towards the opposite edge of the roof, planning to jump slide down the fire escape and wind my way through the streets back to the library. "What's your name?"

"Ivan," he replied, cracking off a two-fingered salute.

"Pleased to meet you." I nodded back at him. "I'm Enia."

He smiled. "The pleasure's all mine."

I laughed mischievously, a grin suddenly descending over my face. "Oh, there's one more thing I have to tell you before I go."

"What's that?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

"You were right about the fire."

And I left him there with a stunned look on his face and a floating ball of flame.

Enia: Well, I hope you enjoyed your chapter Theultimate. I just want to say thank you again. People like you are one of the reasons I write. The other being bitches who try to tell me I shouldn't. I hope you continue to enjoy EZHF.

I'll see you in the next chapter! Please read and review.