of the ambulance attracted my attention. In the rearview mirror. I saw Roy's belligerent face appear in the dividing window.
"If you want to get your daughter, that's fine, but you have no business dragging us along with you! We should be getting the hell out of town!"
I gritted my teeth, ignoring a flare of guilt. "You don't like it, Roy? Just say the word and I'll drop you off on any corner you like."
He scowled. "Like hell. I'm just saying - who made you captain?"
"Really, Roy, really?" I glared at him through the mirror. "You want to argue about who's the fricking boss now ?!"
He had the grace to look a bit shamefaced as he mumbled "Just saying..."
"Stow it, Roy." The man beside me said calmly, popping a fresh gum in his mouth. I glanced at him gratefully as he pulled out his weapon and started loading it.
"Last lot." He glanced blandly at me. "I guess I'd better make them count."
As the large shopping centre loomed a block away, the phone rang. I snatched it up.
"Michele? Where are you?"
Her whispered reply sent cold chills through me. "I'm hiding upstairs in Tosca's restaurant, mummy. We can't get to the stairs. People...they're killing people, mummy." Her voice shook.
"I'm right there, sweetheart." Did my voice sound as hard to her as it did to me? "Stay out of sight until you hear my voice."
Mike cocked his weapon. "Trouble?"
I nodded.
People were pouring out the front doors of the large building ahead. Screams of terror and pain filled the air. Amongst the crowd, I spotted shambling, torn figures grabbing at panicked shoppers.
I drove the car screeching up onto the curb, narrowly missing people and zombies alike. Reassuring myself that my trusty stake was in my belt, I flung open my door and took the outside stairs to Tosca's, two at a time.
On the balcony, a zombie held a young blonde girl close, teeth buried in her throat. The blood poured down her dress as she stood in his arms like a lover, the light dimming in her eyes. Two more zombies, a teenaged boy and a chef, appeared in the restaurant's doorway, stumbling towards me. As the freshly dead creatures came towards me, I felt, rather than saw, Mike's comforting presence at my back.
"I'll handle them." He murmured. "You get your daughter."
An agonised scream from within the restaurant sent me bolting past the zombies and inside. A woman in a floral dress chewed upon a body beside the door while another zombie sat near the kitchen bench gnawing on the leg of a large male tourist. I looked around desperately. "Michele!"
Another feminine scream sent me running to the back of the Italian restaurant. As I neared it, I saw a zombie tearing at the face of a prone girl. A girl with honey hair. No, no, no!
"Mum!" From behind a beam, Michele launched herself at me, sobbing. "Mum! He's got Hannah! Help her!"
I gathered Michele in my arms for a brief moment, absorbing the smell of her warm, live body. Thank you, God.
Pushing her behind me, I approached the zombie cautiously. Hannah was clearly dead but she had been part of our lives for four years; I couldn't just abandon her to such a horrible fate. The zombie, a waiter, looked up with its unnervingly blank eyes, blood dripping down its chin.
Something about that impersonal look infuriated me beyond measure. I picked up a nearby iron-wrought chair and swung it at the monster like I was wielding a cricket bat. It connected with a most satisfying thud, knocking the monster several feet sideways. I brought the chair down on his head again and again. His features became a meaty mash but still I knew he lived, if you could call it that.
"Mum!" A squeal of dismay brought me around and I saw Hannah on her knees, face so torn she could not see anything before her. Quickly, I turned back to the zombie before me and, planting my knee in his chest, I ended his miserable existence with a stake through the eye. Swinging around, I grabbed what used to be Hannah around the throat.
"What are you doing?" My
"If you want to get your daughter, that's fine, but you have no business dragging us along with you! We should be getting the hell out of town!"
I gritted my teeth, ignoring a flare of guilt. "You don't like it, Roy? Just say the word and I'll drop you off on any corner you like."
He scowled. "Like hell. I'm just saying - who made you captain?"
"Really, Roy, really?" I glared at him through the mirror. "You want to argue about who's the fricking boss now ?!"
He had the grace to look a bit shamefaced as he mumbled "Just saying..."
"Stow it, Roy." The man beside me said calmly, popping a fresh gum in his mouth. I glanced at him gratefully as he pulled out his weapon and started loading it.
"Last lot." He glanced blandly at me. "I guess I'd better make them count."
As the large shopping centre loomed a block away, the phone rang. I snatched it up.
"Michele? Where are you?"
Her whispered reply sent cold chills through me. "I'm hiding upstairs in Tosca's restaurant, mummy. We can't get to the stairs. People...they're killing people, mummy." Her voice shook.
"I'm right there, sweetheart." Did my voice sound as hard to her as it did to me? "Stay out of sight until you hear my voice."
Mike cocked his weapon. "Trouble?"
I nodded.
People were pouring out the front doors of the large building ahead. Screams of terror and pain filled the air. Amongst the crowd, I spotted shambling, torn figures grabbing at panicked shoppers.
I drove the car screeching up onto the curb, narrowly missing people and zombies alike. Reassuring myself that my trusty stake was in my belt, I flung open my door and took the outside stairs to Tosca's, two at a time.
On the balcony, a zombie held a young blonde girl close, teeth buried in her throat. The blood poured down her dress as she stood in his arms like a lover, the light dimming in her eyes. Two more zombies, a teenaged boy and a chef, appeared in the restaurant's doorway, stumbling towards me. As the freshly dead creatures came towards me, I felt, rather than saw, Mike's comforting presence at my back.
"I'll handle them." He murmured. "You get your daughter."
An agonised scream from within the restaurant sent me bolting past the zombies and inside. A woman in a floral dress chewed upon a body beside the door while another zombie sat near the kitchen bench gnawing on the leg of a large male tourist. I looked around desperately. "Michele!"
Another feminine scream sent me running to the back of the Italian restaurant. As I neared it, I saw a zombie tearing at the face of a prone girl. A girl with honey hair. No, no, no!
"Mum!" From behind a beam, Michele launched herself at me, sobbing. "Mum! He's got Hannah! Help her!"
I gathered Michele in my arms for a brief moment, absorbing the smell of her warm, live body. Thank you, God.
Pushing her behind me, I approached the zombie cautiously. Hannah was clearly dead but she had been part of our lives for four years; I couldn't just abandon her to such a horrible fate. The zombie, a waiter, looked up with its unnervingly blank eyes, blood dripping down its chin.
Something about that impersonal look infuriated me beyond measure. I picked up a nearby iron-wrought chair and swung it at the monster like I was wielding a cricket bat. It connected with a most satisfying thud, knocking the monster several feet sideways. I brought the chair down on his head again and again. His features became a meaty mash but still I knew he lived, if you could call it that.
"Mum!" A squeal of dismay brought me around and I saw Hannah on her knees, face so torn she could not see anything before her. Quickly, I turned back to the zombie before me and, planting my knee in his chest, I ended his miserable existence with a stake through the eye. Swinging around, I grabbed what used to be Hannah around the throat.
"What are you doing?" My
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