Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) by S.P. Durnin

dumpster's
cap.
    “Shit.”
    The front of the Dairy Freeze had seen better
days. During the initial outbreak, the ice-cream shop's windows had
been broken and what little glass remained was coated with a
repugnant film of dust, dead insect caprices, and long-dried bodily
fluids. Those disgusting little fang-like shards, along with the
shadowy interior of the shop, gave the Dairy Freeze a definitive
This Is The Entrance To The Underworld look. Jake thought the clown
statue at the door, with what seemed to be part of someone's small
intestines hanging from one uncaring, plastic hand, gave it the
final soul-chilling touch, too.
    The thirty or so zombies shuffling around in
the parking lot out front didn't help either.
    They were awful. That was a given, really.
Walking corpses and all that. The things were a kaleidoscope of
wasted flesh; missing jaws, missing faces, torn out throats, limbs
and even abdominal cavities that had been gnawed away. Yet somehow,
despite massive damage, the zombies shambled on oblivious of their
wounds like Energizer bunnies. Gore-covered, totally horrific,
inconveniently carnivorous Energizer bunnies that seemed to rot at
a vastly decreased rate. Once again, Jake wondered how whatever
animated the creatures preserved them in some way, and how the
living could hope to overcome an enemy that couldn't feel pain or
fear.
    Shaking off his momentary reverie, O'Connor
again knelt beside Kat. “Well, that way's out.”
    “We can't double back either, that's for
sure. Not through the horde back there.” Kat frowned in
concentration and chewed at her lip. “Can't zip-line over this
group. The roof elevation and angles are way wrong for that.
We could skirt the crowd's edge. Take out the eight or ten closest
to us and break for the opposite corner—”
    “But that would have the rest close by and on
our heels when we bolt.” Jake shook his head. “They'd start moaning
or tripping over stuff and attract more—”
    “Then we'd be right back where we started two
days ago,” Kat finished. “Running with a crap-ton of maggot-heads
on our butts, which we'd have to try to lose again before we
could head back to the airport.”
    Jake scanned the area again. “Any ideas?”
    “All this thinking is giving me a headache.”
Cho sat and leaned against the dumpster. “Besides, it's your turn
to come up a plan. I thought up with the last one.”
    “Thanks ever so much.”
    “Well I did!”
    Jake kept his eyes moving. “It doesn't work
like that.”
    “It should,” Kat mumbled.
    He grabbed another quick look over the
dumpster. “Really? You're gonna pout? Now?”
    “I'm not pouting.” Kat crossed her arms under
her breasts.
    O'Connor continued scanning the area. “You
can be so lazy sometimes.”
    “Yeah well... you have weird hair,” Kat
said.
    “Huh?” Jake glanced at her, confused.
    “It's all, you know, sticky-out. Like one of
those guys from Anime cartoons.” Cho pointed at his head. “And you
don't even style it. I mean, when we first met? I thought you just
spent tons of time on it or something, but most days you don't even
touch a brush. So how—”
    “Can we focus for a minute?” Jake asked
firmly, giving her a sharp look.
    “No need to get huffy,” Kat pouted. “Jeez.
Try to give someone a little fashion advice and—”
    “Kat!”
    Cho raised one hand in a pacifying wave.
“Okay, okay! Focusing now. Zombies in front, even more zombies behind. Too many to fight, and not much room to run. What
does that leave us?”
    “Distraction?” Jake replied.
    “Bingo.” Kat grinned. “Ninja 101: use
distraction to conceal your movements when faced with a lack of
cover.”
    Jake gave the parking lot another once-over.
“I have an idea.”
    “You're not using yourself as bait, so get
that out of your head right now,” Kat snapped, taking a firm
handful of the front of his shirt.
    “The thought never crossed my mind,” he
assured her loftily.
    “Oh. Well, that's alright then.” Kat