Undead L.A. 2 by Devan Sagliani Page A

decision, he turned the wheel and slammed his foot on the pedal, holding it to the floor with all the strength he could muster. He gripped the wheel until his knuckles went white, praying that the “swag wagon,” as his dad liked to call it, would respond. The vehicle began to shimmy violently, making a loud, grinding sound like metal on metal, and then shot out all of a sudden, springing forward like a cornered animal on the attack. The last thing Tyler saw, before plowing through the award winning rose garden, was the bite-riddled corpse of the old woman hitting the front of the van and slipping under the wheels.
    Tyler screamed at the top of his lungs, more out of shock than fear, and let go of the wheel. The minivan careened onto a side street and slammed into the back of a midnight blue Ford F150 truck, spidering the windshield and causing the airbag to explode in Tyler's surprised face. His ears were ringing, and his face stung from the impact. The seat belt had dug into his chest, causing him to gasp for air as he undid it. He threw open the door and fell to the hot asphalt, sucking in as much air as he could, choking and coughing as he tried to catch his breath. A steady ringing from the open door brought his attention back to his surroundings, and he quickly got to his feet to see how bad things were.
    “Fucking thing is like a homing beacon,” Tyler growled, spitting out blood from his split lip. One look at the minivan was enough to inform him that he could now officially add 'stranded outside in the middle of a zombie apocalypse' to his growing list of problems. The entire front end was smashed in, and it looked like a fire had started underneath the carriage. The familiar howl of the ever-hungry dead could be heard all around as they made their way over to the crash, hoping to get a taste of Tyler's living flesh. He turned towards Emily's house, but the street was now covered in rotting ghouls.
    It's like a funeral home entered the Rose Parade, he thought. How the fuck am I going to get out of this?
    That's when he realized he'd been going about things all wrong. He was still thinking of the world in terms of how things were before all this madness started. He turned in the direction of Emily's house, realizing it was only a few houses over from where he was standing.
    The shortest distance between two points is a straight line , he reminded himself. Just pretend you're Ferris Bueller.
    He ran up to the first house and struggled with the doorknob, but wasn't able to get it open.
    “Shit, man,” he yelled. “Who locks their door in this neighborhood?”
    He turned to see the ghouls closing in on him from the street. He yanked harder, rattling the door, but it didn't budge. He'd just let go when a loud thump and a roar from the other side made his heart pound in his chest, sending spikes of painful adrenaline through his body until he could taste the acid in his mouth. He ran towards the side of the house, passing a large window along the way that showed a man in a business suit with his three young zombie children, all howling and slamming their decaying bodies at the front door. The wooden side gate was partially ajar so he slipped inside, shutting and locking it behind him.
    He turned and froze dead in his tracks, staring down at a large, muscular, bluenose pit bull, standing just feet away from him. The massive animal was crouched low to the ground, with its tail between its legs, whimpering. Tyler cautiously approached the dog, and put out his hand. The pit bull looked up with sad eyes and licked his hand, then put its head back down.
    “Sorry I can't take you with me,” Tyler apologized. “You'll be okay girl. Just stay out of sight.”
    Tyler gingerly stepped over the animal and made his way across the well-groomed backyard, passing through a recreation of a Japanese Zen garden. He used the gurgling waterfall statue to help him get up onto the top of the fence. From just a few feet up, he could make