SurvivorZ: Grave Harbor

105

DENISE

In the absence of meaningful intel, Denise prepared herself for the worst case scenario. The gunshots pounding from the back of the burning inn weren't letting up. She could only guess that meant the dead had her friends pinned down.

The smoking building and the chain link fence blurred past her on both sides as she raced along the snow-packed strip to the back yard. The roar of her snowmobile almost drowned out the rumble of Danielle and Charlie's rides following close behind.

Denise entertained the notion of having the others hold back while she assessed the threat. The last thing they needed was to blindly ride into the middle of a herd and get bunched up while trying to turn around. She instead kept her head down and pushed the sled faster. Judging by the racket, they didn't have time to play this one carefully.

With the fenced-in corner of the property coming up fast, she peeled the Bushmaster M4A3 carbine off her shoulder and propped it between the Ski-Doo's handles. She procured the weapon a few weeks ago from an army surplus store, along with a healthy supply of .223 Remington ammo. From the sound of things, she was finally going to get the opportunity to break it in properly.

She pulled up by the fence and grabbed her rifle, taking in the chaotic scene around her. The zombies that kept filing out the back door, most of them still smoldering from the blaze, came as no surprise. The bullets dropping them almost as quickly as they appeared didn't faze her either. What shocked her to the point of hesitation were the identities of the gunfighters.

She expected Carl Graves to be leading the defense against the feeders swarming from the burning building, yet instead found him off to the far side of the lot with nine-year old Emily Sommers. From the tracks in the snow, the pair had presumably dragged Robin's unconscious body away from the door to a relatively safe spot. Meanwhile, all of the gunfire echoing across the valley had been coming from the two people she least expected to find standing on the front line.

It was unusual in itself to see Erica DiMarco standing her ground, rather than following her instinct for self-preservation and fleeing ahead of the pack. The girl picked her shots with care, dropping her targets with a level of precision Denise wasn't aware she possessed. The only thing that floored Denise more than her unexpected skill with a gun was the identity of the shooter standing next to her.

"Tommy?"

Denise raised her carbine, pointing it at the cold-blooded murderer of her friend, Mike Edwards. Until now, they had all presumed Graves had executed him for his crime. She was still trying to piece together how he could have possibly survived.

The fact that he was standing here cleared up one mystery. She now knew the identity of the person who had set fire to their shelter and led a herd of feeders to their doorstep.

"Denise," he said with a nod. "You want to aim that thing at something other than me? As you can see, we're a little busy here."

"I'm good with where it is," she retorted. "If you're here for revenge, looks like you botched it up."

A second snowmobile pulled up between her and her target. Danielle was so focused on finding her sister that she was not only heedless of the standoff, but she didn't even bat an eye at Tommy's escape from the gallows.

"Emily?" she wailed.

"Dani!" her baby sister called back from the other side of the snowed-in pool.

"Danielle, get out of the way," Denise growled, trying to line up Mike's killer in her sights again.

"I didn't shoot Mike, okay? My sister killed him and pinned it on me," Tommy yelled.

"Says you," Erica protested.