Blog of the Dead (Book 2): Life by Lisa Richardson Page A

movement inside, near the back. At the door, Misfit caught up with me. I pushed it open and saw Sean behind the food counter, five zombies surrounded him and more came from an open door at the back of the counter, I guessed, where the kitchen was. He smashed one of the zombies in the head with his hammer and it fell. He shoved one back with the elbow of his free arm and swung the hammer at another, getting it clean between the eyes. It fell and Sean turned the hammer on the one he had just shoved.
    Glass from the smashed window crunched under our feet as me and Misfit, weapons raised, headed for the counter. I slid through the opening first and stabbed one of the zombies through its left eye. It went still and slid off my knife to join the pile of dead rotting bodies already on the ground. Misfit jabbed the other zombie between the eyes with his hunting knife.
    Six more zombies staggered towards us from the kitchen. Misfit leapt towards the front runner and rammed his knife into its ear. He was on the next one, even before me and Sean joined in.
    One of the zombies stumbled over a fallen body and it fell, its head hitting me in the chest. I threw my right arm out, trying to grab hold of the counter to prevent myself from going down. I missed, dropped my knife and the weight of the zombie knocked me onto my back. My head cracked against the counter on the way down.
    Groggy from the blow, I lifted my head as far off the ground as I could to see a rotten face snarl at me before it lowered its jaws, its teeth aiming for my chest. I threw a hand out and grabbed the zombie under the chin and pushed upwards, forcing its head back. The weight lifted off me and I looked up to see Sean, a handful of the zombie’s hair from the back of its head, lift the zombie into the air. Misfit drove his hunting knife into the zombie’s skull, and Sean tossed the body clear of me. Both Sean and Misfit held out a hand for me. I grasped my knife off the tiled floor and chose Misfit’s hand. He hauled me up onto my feet. Sean shrugged and turned, swinging his hammer at one of the remaining zombies.
    Once we had slaughtered all the zombies, I flopped against the counter. Misfit slid out of the gap in the counter and back onto the café floor, taking a seat at one of the dusty, filthy tables, a plate with some unidentifiable food on it in front of him. Sean followed Misfit out from behind the counter, walked over to the smashed window and stared outside. ‘No sister then,’ I said, propping my chin up on my hands, my elbows on the counter surface, looking at Sean’s back.
    ‘No,’ he said without turning around.
    ‘She could be anywhere,’ I said. But Sean said nothing and continued to stare out of the window.
    ‘It’ll be getting dark soon,’ said Misfit, cleaning blood off his knife with the bottom edge of his t-shirt. ‘We should head back.’
    ‘What are you going to do now?’ I asked Sean.
    ‘Do either of you know how to hotwire a car?’ he asked, turning to look at me and Misfit in turn.
    ‘Yeah,’ said Misfit.
    ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me,’ said Sean, grinning. ‘It’s a long walk back,’ he continued. ‘And like you say, it’ll be getting dark soon. There must be a road up there.’ Sean pointed to behind the café, away from the cliff. ‘If you hotwire a car, I’ll give you a lift back to your camp and I’ll drive around for a bit and look for Anna. It’s the last you’ll see of me.’
    ‘OK,’ I said. ‘A lift sounds good. I’m fucking exhausted.’
    Outside, we walked to the right, up a path and up some steps until we saw a small car park to our left. Misfit slid his hunting knife through his belt and strutted over to an old silver Vauxhall. He tried the doors but they were locked, so Sean used his hammer to smash the driver’s side window. Misfit slid his hand through the window and pulled up the lock, opened the door and climbed into the driver’s seat. I watched as Misfit used his hunting knife to