Out of the side of my eyes I see the zombies getting excited, moving around more, and unfortunately, when I’m still about half way down, I see one head swivel my way. Of course it’s Big and Meaty. Of course he would be more interested in moving meat then what’s in front of him. I bet he was annoying in real life too.
“Now!” I shout to Cassie. Without looking at her, I know that she’s reaching into her bag and pulling out a little plastic container of lighter fluid, perfect for a barbecue. As I’m racing down, trying not to fall on the rocks, she puts a circle around the zombies, lights the match and tosses it.
I’m almost at the bottom when she cries out – “It’s not working!”
I stop and notice a couple of things. The matches are going out before they hit the fluid soaked ground, and Big and Meaty is working his way out of the circle.
“Light something like clothing and throw it down now!” I shout in a panic and take off, because I can’t wait to see if it works out okay.
Out of the side of my eye I see a big white flaming object fall to the ground, and a second later the circle catches fire.
I’m at the bottom and I race for the car just as I see Cassie throwing something on fire at Big and Meaty, who is now definitely away from the other zombies. I jump in the car and slam the door shut.
I’m in the front driver’s seat. I ran a hand quickly along the dash.
“I missed you. Sorry about the accident.” I know it’s silly to talk to a car, but my Mom did it all the time, so I’m not quite so weird.
Cassie’s backpack is on the floor next to the passenger seat, so I grab that and put it on the seat. Then I climb into the back and grab my pack, just as something slams into the side window.
“Jesus,” I say, even though it’s a really bad to say it as a swear word.
Big and Meaty is outside the car, his bloody hand is on the window right in front of me, and he’s on fire. He stares at me like I’m the cream in the middle of the cupcake, and he doesn’t seem to care that he’s burning.
“Oh God...” I push myself as far away from him as I can, up against the far window. I’m a lousy shot, but I struggle for my gun anyways. Surely I can’t miss him from this close.
“Oh God, oh God.” I’ve got three bullets. I crawl back to his window, even though my heart is pounding hard, and I know, I know I don’t want to get closer to him.
I sit on my knees, right at the window, and he stares in at me. Dear God, this is the closest I’ve gotten to one without them being able to bite me. His eyes are tracking me and then his hand slams against the door again and I jump. But so far he isn’t figuring out to make a fist and smash the window.
How long will the window hold against the flat of his hand?
I sit back on my haunches and raise the gun, pointing it right at his face. The glass separates us, and I see no knowledge in his eyes that I’m basically holding a gun to his head. He doesn’t know.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right to just shoot something point blank like this when it can’t reach me.
But he’ll eat me.
Dear God. I say a prayer for myself, and for him, and for my soul, and then I turn my head away and I pull the trigger.