Dead Stop by Mark Clapham

that had come down around the truck. ‘This part looks dead.’
    ‘You first,’ said Mike.
    ‘I don’t suppose you can see electricity?’ I asked Melissa.
    ‘No,’ said Mike, baffled.
    ‘No,’ said Melissa. ‘But I can tell a broken circuit when I see one. This is down, right the way to the next post.’
    The next post was perilously close to where I was going to have to squeeze past the truck. Great.
    I tried to distract myself as I raised my foot to stand on the flattened electric fence, as if not thinking about being electrocuted would somehow make it less painful, as if I were just pulling an Elastoplast off.
    Melissa certainly knew a lot about the site’s security arrangements for an accountant, dodgy or otherwise. My suspicions were growing, but I was committed now. I had to trust that at least her self-interest in keeping me alive was real.
    My foot came down. I stood warily on the fence.
    I didn’t die.
    Mike following, I edged closer to the truck, sliding between the cabin and the live section of the fence less than a foot away. I decided to keep my back to the truck and my face to the fence post, as I didn’t want the shotgun strapped to my back to make contact with any electrical charge. I didn’t think any contact with that fence was a good idea, but figured that introducing a large piece of conductive metal to it would be the worst possible scenario.
    In the dark—we didn’t want to use torches out in the open; this area seemed to be relatively zombie-free for now—I could make out a dark patch on the windscreen of the truck. I wasn’t sure in the dim light whether it was on the inside or outside. Neither seemed good.
    I squeezed past, and Mike followed. Melissa was already ahead, standing in an open area, pointing to where we needed to go next.
    Then there was an explosion. It wasn’t nearby, we couldn’t see it, but it was an enormous bang .
    Mike jerked backwards in shock, and slammed into the truck. The door clicked open as he bumped into it, and he swung back again, raising his gun.
    A limp arm fell out of the open door, hand dangling.
    Mike screamed and fired in its direction. He had the shotgun cradled loosely in his hands and the kickback knocked him off balance.
    He stumbled back a step, and hit the live section of the electric fence.
    Unlike the zombie further down, he didn’t seem to suffer a full charge, instead keeling over screaming, to lie convulsing and twitching against the live fence.
    I froze for a second, staring at the open truck door. The hand was completely limp.
    That wasn’t a zombie.
    Nevertheless, I kept my eyes on that hanging arm as I began to edge towards where Mike was slumped, jerking and twitching.
    ‘Stop!’ shouted Melissa. ‘If you touch him you’ll be shocked too.’
    ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘Shit. I need something insulated, don’t I? Where can I get something?’
    ‘It’s too late,’ she said. ‘They’re coming. They must have heard the shot, or the scream.’
    Melissa was pointing down the curve of the fence, back towards the entrance.
    She was right, about the zombies at least. I could see a dozen or so of the things shuffling forward. They were close enough that I could see there were both types I’d seen close up—the ones who looked just sick, and the ones in a deeper state of decay. They all moved with the same jerking motions.
    ‘We can’t just—’ I protested.
    ‘We can just,’ Melissa snapped back. ‘He’s already dead. If we don’t get you up off the ground you’ll be the same. Follow me.’
    She didn’t give me a chance to answer back, running away towards some low, temporary looking buildings.
    I glanced down at Mike. He was flat on his back, still occasionally spasming, eyes rolled back in his skull. He didn’t look well. But he was still clearly alive.
    Then I looked back at the approaching zombies. They were moving faster than their movement would suggest was possible.
    ‘Fuck,’ I said, glancing down at Mike once