jacket; Martha was well prepared. Hot diggity dang, it’s heavy. I throw it on over my fleece; more padding. “You can’t go out there by yourself, you’ll get mobbed.” The jacket is huge on me. What’s good is that it covers my ass a little better than what I was wearing before. But I still have bare legs, and there’s no second helmet or pair of gloves.
“You can’t do this,” Russ starts.
“Of course I can,” I argue. “One of us provides a distraction, the other goes for the charger. I’m fast.” Well, I used to be … I shake off the thought. “I’ll keep ’em busy while you get to the desk.” What the hell am I doing?
“If you’re going, you should go now.” Pete is fiddling with the computer. “Big ones, maybe heading this way.”
“At least take these.” Russ begins to pull off the helmet and gloves.
I shake my head. “Won’t be able to see with that on my head anyway.” I look at Alice. “I could use some legwear, though.”
“What?” She’s shaken. “So now you want my velour? Naff off. You wouldn’t fit into them anyway.”
“Come on, Alice. Gimme,” I tell her. I have no other options; even my skinny behind would be hard-pushed to squeeze into Pete’s tiny polyester slacks.
“Oh my god, this is too gross for words. DO NOT get zombie on them.” She begins pulling them down. “Or your own sweat. You!” she shouts at Pete. “Turn around! I refuse to strip while you’re perving and getting your jollies off.”
Pete splutters and objects, red-faced, but turns around anyway. Curiously Alice is not bothered by the prospect of Russ seeing her in her skimpies. She chucks the peach fluffy legs at me, and I pull them on. Hmm. Wouldn’t have been my choice, but I’m not sure that Alice has any biker leathers I could borrow.
“Let’s do this.” I’m all Captain America now. What I lack in actual armor, I make up for in spirit. I grab my towel rail, Russ picks up the fire extinguisher, and the door is opened and closed before I have time to think what a stupid idea this is.
The flashing amber-and-red lights have stopped. Maybe the Undead don’t like to disco. The Lil’ Zombinos have given up on crowding the door, but to our left they’re clumping up beside the nurses’ station, probably because it smells of warm human a little more than these scrubbed-down corridors.
“Let’s draw them down this end!” I say and point to the right beyond the courtyard entrance, where the corridor takes a sharp turn. “Then I’ll keep ’em occupied and you run up the wing for the try.”
“Don’t you mean for the touchdown?”
“Yeah, you’re right. We’re way too armored for rugby.” I grasp my towel rail and set my jaw, and together we scoot down the end of the corridor. I’ve already spotted where I’m going; just before the corridor turns, a pair of double doors is open, with a gurney beside them. I’m becoming an expert at this — with a leap and a bound I reckon I can get up on top of one of the doors and balance there for the duration of Russ’s charger retrieval. There are a couple of large pipes suspended from the ceiling; they’ll give me something to hang on to.
I never used to think like this, I never used to look for the emergency exits, the free-running routes, the easy weapon, or the barricade. But I’llnever be able to stop now. Not even when I get old and crusty and all this is just a bunch of bedtime stories I frighten my grandchildren with.
That’s always assuming I get to grow up.
“Now what?” Russ shouts at me from under his RoboCop visor. We’re at the doors. The corridor continues a little farther beyond here, then takes the ninety-degree left. I run to look down the dogleg and am glad to see it’s clear. For now. Meanwhile, back at the nurses’ station, the mob has turned around to see what all the commotion is, and is heading our way.
“They’re coming, just wait.” I clamber up onto the gurney. “They’ll thin out as
“You can’t do this,” Russ starts.
“Of course I can,” I argue. “One of us provides a distraction, the other goes for the charger. I’m fast.” Well, I used to be … I shake off the thought. “I’ll keep ’em busy while you get to the desk.” What the hell am I doing?
“If you’re going, you should go now.” Pete is fiddling with the computer. “Big ones, maybe heading this way.”
“At least take these.” Russ begins to pull off the helmet and gloves.
I shake my head. “Won’t be able to see with that on my head anyway.” I look at Alice. “I could use some legwear, though.”
“What?” She’s shaken. “So now you want my velour? Naff off. You wouldn’t fit into them anyway.”
“Come on, Alice. Gimme,” I tell her. I have no other options; even my skinny behind would be hard-pushed to squeeze into Pete’s tiny polyester slacks.
“Oh my god, this is too gross for words. DO NOT get zombie on them.” She begins pulling them down. “Or your own sweat. You!” she shouts at Pete. “Turn around! I refuse to strip while you’re perving and getting your jollies off.”
Pete splutters and objects, red-faced, but turns around anyway. Curiously Alice is not bothered by the prospect of Russ seeing her in her skimpies. She chucks the peach fluffy legs at me, and I pull them on. Hmm. Wouldn’t have been my choice, but I’m not sure that Alice has any biker leathers I could borrow.
“Let’s do this.” I’m all Captain America now. What I lack in actual armor, I make up for in spirit. I grab my towel rail, Russ picks up the fire extinguisher, and the door is opened and closed before I have time to think what a stupid idea this is.
The flashing amber-and-red lights have stopped. Maybe the Undead don’t like to disco. The Lil’ Zombinos have given up on crowding the door, but to our left they’re clumping up beside the nurses’ station, probably because it smells of warm human a little more than these scrubbed-down corridors.
“Let’s draw them down this end!” I say and point to the right beyond the courtyard entrance, where the corridor takes a sharp turn. “Then I’ll keep ’em occupied and you run up the wing for the try.”
“Don’t you mean for the touchdown?”
“Yeah, you’re right. We’re way too armored for rugby.” I grasp my towel rail and set my jaw, and together we scoot down the end of the corridor. I’ve already spotted where I’m going; just before the corridor turns, a pair of double doors is open, with a gurney beside them. I’m becoming an expert at this — with a leap and a bound I reckon I can get up on top of one of the doors and balance there for the duration of Russ’s charger retrieval. There are a couple of large pipes suspended from the ceiling; they’ll give me something to hang on to.
I never used to think like this, I never used to look for the emergency exits, the free-running routes, the easy weapon, or the barricade. But I’llnever be able to stop now. Not even when I get old and crusty and all this is just a bunch of bedtime stories I frighten my grandchildren with.
That’s always assuming I get to grow up.
“Now what?” Russ shouts at me from under his RoboCop visor. We’re at the doors. The corridor continues a little farther beyond here, then takes the ninety-degree left. I run to look down the dogleg and am glad to see it’s clear. For now. Meanwhile, back at the nurses’ station, the mob has turned around to see what all the commotion is, and is heading our way.
“They’re coming, just wait.” I clamber up onto the gurney. “They’ll thin out as
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