The Swiss Family RobinZOM (Book 5) by Perrin Briar Page B

Ernest.
    Bill ran forward and pushed the Spinner. It rolled up an incline and then fell back on itself, the incline too steep. It landed on its back and spun around uselessly. The Spinner pushed itself up onto its feet, slow, like a body rising from the dead.
    Bill roared and flew at the Spinner, throwing himself on top of it. Its arm and legs jammed into the earth. Bill raised his shield above his head and thrust it down, severing the creature’s stunted arm. Then he brought the shield edge down and cut off the creature’s other arm. He flew back in time to avoid the creature’s congealed blood flying at him in a wide spray.
    The creature spun, powering up into a standing position. It spun around and around, pushed itself up onto two working limbs and cartwheeled away. Though it disappeared through the foliage and out of sight, no one took their eyes off the jungle around them. The Robinsons panted for breath.
    “They’re too fast,” Liz said.
    “And unpredictable,” Ernest said. “We have no idea what they’re going to do!”
    “Are you all right?” Bill said to Liz.
    “Did you see that?” Liz said. “It went around my shield and attacked me!”
    “It was some bad luck, all right,” Bill said.
    “Are you sure these things can’t see?” Liz said. “They look like they can see plenty well to me.”
    “They move by randomness, not by instinct,” Bill said. “Without eyes, we can be fairly certain of that. It’s only our brains that see patterns in what they do.”
    Ernest slapped Fritz on the cheek. The elder brother started awake, peering at his surroundings, disorientated.
    “This isn’t working, Bill,” Liz said. “No matter what we do, they keep going around us, avoiding us. There’s nothing we can do to stop them.”
    “I know,” Bill said. “You’re right.”
    “There has to be a better way than this,” Liz said. “There just has to be.”

Chapter Seven
    Beaten, swollen, dirty and exhausted, the Robinson family emerged from the jungle. Francis hopped onto his feet and waited at the corner of the treehouse landing. The family’s shoulders were slouched and forlorn, like traffic accident victims.
    “How did it go?” Francis said.
    None of them spoke, climbing the ladder with slow, forced movements.
    “We fought one,” Ernest said.
    “That’s great!” Francis said.
    No one seemed to share his excitement.
    “Isn’t it?” Francis said.
    “It is good,” Fritz said, nodding. “Except that it got away and there are dozens more.”
    “Oh,” Francis said.
    They took off their heavy boots. Each family member sported red feet, thick with hard skin and blisters. They sat down and rested for a moment, letting the memories of the past few hours wash over them.
    “I’ll get you some food,” Francis said.
    He ran into the kitchen and started a small fire with the matches Bill had made. He heated up the stew that sat on the hob. Within minutes it was bubbling. He stirred it and cut some bread up into thick slices. He ladled the stew into bowls and placed them around the table with the plate of bread in the centre.
    “Dinner’s ready,” he said.
    The family limped on their swollen blistered feet and sat at their places. They tore off chunks of bread with a grimace – every muscle hurt – and dipped it into the stew. They sucked on the soaked bread.
    “There’s some good news,” Francis said. “None of the Spinners came here!”
    It seemed of little consolation. The family finished up their stew, washed, taking special care to add a salve to the soles of their feet, and went straight to bed. Francis was left with a table full of dirty dishes.
    Within an hour the Robinson family was asleep. None of them made much noise, their bodies unmoving, still recovering from the shock. Fritz sat on the edge of the treehouse landing, legs dangling over the side. The family had thought it prudent for them all to sleep in one treehouse as opposed to their separate rooms. Ernest stirred,