down and brought food back for prolonged feeding. Food, of course, being other living things. Preferably, human beings. That must’ve been what was going on behind the counter. We’d stumbled across a zombie’s nest. If the zombie was home he'd probably be pretty ticked off.
Images from the action movies Mason had loved flickered through my mind. Throat punches. High kicks. Karate chops. I didn’t want to get close enough to a zombie to poke him in the eye, but I might not have a choice. If one attacked Hunny I had to defend her. She couldn’t defend herself.
The door to the indoor playground squeaked opened, and I pivoted to face whatever horror stampeded through it.
A little boy no older than seven staggered nearer carrying a pair of yellow, metal tractor toys. He had shaggy brown hair and deep red eyes. The day care sticker on his striped T-shirt read, “Hello, my name is Jack.”
He didn’t look very terrifying, but so far my good luck juju was on the fritz, so I expected Jack to be the welcoming party for a much more heinous pack. Mama and Papa Zombie maybe? Or an entire death squad of kiddie Reds?
“Hunny,” I called. “Stay where you are. There might be more.”
She caught sight of little Jack and shrieked, scrambling onto the front counter and doing a nervous dance on her tiptoes.
She’d forgotten how to be quiet, but at least she knew to get to an elevated position.
Taking a cue from her, I sprang onto the nearest table, hip first, and struggled to stand one-legged on the wobbly surface. The table teetered to the left and I spread my arms like a high wire trapeze artist. It worked. Sort of.
Jack didn't have any sympathy for my poor balance. He bared his teeth and ran, full steam, for my position. His bare feet pattered across the tile floor, and then he slammed into my perch. I crumpled to my knees, gripping the table to stay off the floor.
Reds couldn’t climb. But they could pull me down.
No matter what else happened I had to stay above him.
Across the room Hunny screamed and screamed, pausing only to suck in huge gulps of air and scream again. The sound of her terror ramped up my own.
Where was Ben? If he barreled through those doors and yanked this kid off me, I would owe him my life twice over. But he didn’t show up to save my butt a second time. It was just me and Jack and Hunny. And I wasn’t feeling terribly optimistic about our odds.
A buzzing in my ears got louder. The kind of roar a motorcycle made. But it must have been a byproduct of all the fear and adrenalin flushing through my system. I hadn’t seen a running vehicle in ages.
If the ferocious first grader heard the buzzing, he didn’t let it distract him. He struck my shins with his tractors, their sharp metallic edges biting through my black stretch leggings and drawing blood. Pain ricocheted up my calves and propelled me over tabletops as I tried to decide if it was safer to run and draw the Red away from Hunny or kill him in front of her.
I gripped my sword and waved it in Jack’s face, hoping to scare him. He deflected the blade and devastated my ankles with his toys, cutting deep. Dark blood smeared across the table.
The sight of my blood affected him. I expected him to go wild with blood lust like a vampire in a horror film, but instead of growing more agitated, Jack tilted his chin, bringing our faces inches apart. He stared at me. I smelled his foul breath and saw tiny flecks of dried blood on both pale, hollowed cheeks. Maybe I could reason with him. Maybe there was still a spark of humanity inside his little body.
“Jack,” I snapped in my crankiest twin sister voice. “Stop it. You’re scaring me.”
He leaned his face nearer to mine. Little Jack had stained baby teeth in front, and irises a lovely shade of rose. He inhaled deeply, and for a split second I thought he was going to answer me. But he curled his lips over grotesque chompers and, like an irritable Chihuahua, snapped at my nose. I flinched
Images from the action movies Mason had loved flickered through my mind. Throat punches. High kicks. Karate chops. I didn’t want to get close enough to a zombie to poke him in the eye, but I might not have a choice. If one attacked Hunny I had to defend her. She couldn’t defend herself.
The door to the indoor playground squeaked opened, and I pivoted to face whatever horror stampeded through it.
A little boy no older than seven staggered nearer carrying a pair of yellow, metal tractor toys. He had shaggy brown hair and deep red eyes. The day care sticker on his striped T-shirt read, “Hello, my name is Jack.”
He didn’t look very terrifying, but so far my good luck juju was on the fritz, so I expected Jack to be the welcoming party for a much more heinous pack. Mama and Papa Zombie maybe? Or an entire death squad of kiddie Reds?
“Hunny,” I called. “Stay where you are. There might be more.”
She caught sight of little Jack and shrieked, scrambling onto the front counter and doing a nervous dance on her tiptoes.
She’d forgotten how to be quiet, but at least she knew to get to an elevated position.
Taking a cue from her, I sprang onto the nearest table, hip first, and struggled to stand one-legged on the wobbly surface. The table teetered to the left and I spread my arms like a high wire trapeze artist. It worked. Sort of.
Jack didn't have any sympathy for my poor balance. He bared his teeth and ran, full steam, for my position. His bare feet pattered across the tile floor, and then he slammed into my perch. I crumpled to my knees, gripping the table to stay off the floor.
Reds couldn’t climb. But they could pull me down.
No matter what else happened I had to stay above him.
Across the room Hunny screamed and screamed, pausing only to suck in huge gulps of air and scream again. The sound of her terror ramped up my own.
Where was Ben? If he barreled through those doors and yanked this kid off me, I would owe him my life twice over. But he didn’t show up to save my butt a second time. It was just me and Jack and Hunny. And I wasn’t feeling terribly optimistic about our odds.
A buzzing in my ears got louder. The kind of roar a motorcycle made. But it must have been a byproduct of all the fear and adrenalin flushing through my system. I hadn’t seen a running vehicle in ages.
If the ferocious first grader heard the buzzing, he didn’t let it distract him. He struck my shins with his tractors, their sharp metallic edges biting through my black stretch leggings and drawing blood. Pain ricocheted up my calves and propelled me over tabletops as I tried to decide if it was safer to run and draw the Red away from Hunny or kill him in front of her.
I gripped my sword and waved it in Jack’s face, hoping to scare him. He deflected the blade and devastated my ankles with his toys, cutting deep. Dark blood smeared across the table.
The sight of my blood affected him. I expected him to go wild with blood lust like a vampire in a horror film, but instead of growing more agitated, Jack tilted his chin, bringing our faces inches apart. He stared at me. I smelled his foul breath and saw tiny flecks of dried blood on both pale, hollowed cheeks. Maybe I could reason with him. Maybe there was still a spark of humanity inside his little body.
“Jack,” I snapped in my crankiest twin sister voice. “Stop it. You’re scaring me.”
He leaned his face nearer to mine. Little Jack had stained baby teeth in front, and irises a lovely shade of rose. He inhaled deeply, and for a split second I thought he was going to answer me. But he curled his lips over grotesque chompers and, like an irritable Chihuahua, snapped at my nose. I flinched
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