ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Five

The beam of the flashlight cuts through the darkness, illuminating a path through the darkened house. The three of us move as one unit as we enter. The smell of something decaying hits us right away.

"Don't fire your gun unless it's a last resort, we don't want to attract anything," Ryan warns Megan.

From the corner of my eye, I can see him holstering his own nine millimetre in favor of a large, curved hunting knife that he's been carrying on his belt since the gas station. The thought that he's planning to stab something to death, even an ex-human to re-death, is disturbing to me. The house looks like it was well cared for when it had occupants. The walls are lined with family photographs, and it makes a lump form in my throat, so I look away. A thumping noise up ahead is a bitter reminder that, obviously, this house still has at least one occupant.

My steps falter, but Ryan's never do. He moves cautiously towards the noise. I'm reminded of that commercial...maybe it was about firemen...they are running into danger when everyone else is running out. It is such an odd thought to pop into my head at this moment. I actually smirk, which feels totally creepy and out of place in this serious situation.

Ryan comes to a stop outside a closed door. The wood looks as if whatever is inside has been trying to get out for a while now.

"I think there's only one," Ryan speaks after listening intently for a full five minutes. His voice sounds like he's using a megaphone to advertise our location. I want to climb underneath a blanket and hide.

Inside the room, the clawing and scratching gets worse. The zombie lets out a feral growl, and it makes my legs turn to jelly. I've never intentionally been this close to one before, not without running for my life, or trying to bash their head in.

"Can't we just leave it in there?" I ask, not proud of the whine that has wormed its way into my voice.

But, of course, Ryan shakes his head.

"We can't risk it getting out in the middle of the night and surprising us."

His words make sense. Yet, I also have the biggest urge to stomp my foot like a toddler and shout "But, I don't wanna!"

"We need to get comfortable handling these things," he lectures.

I want to be mad at Ryan, but he makes perfect sense. Once again, I realize how lucky we were to find him. I shudder to think what would have happened to us.

I look at the large hunting knife clenched in his fist; Megan has her pistol drawn and held at the ready, just in case.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask.

Ryan sends me a small smile like he's happy I'm on board.

"I'll try and knock it back with the door, just be ready in case something happens or there's more than one of them in there."

I hold my golf club at the ready, though I really should find myself a better weapon since it took me about a hundred hits to put down the last zombie.

The door is the kind that swings back into the room, which gives us a bit of an advantage. Ryan signals to us, and Megan and I back up several steps. Ryan turns the knob and hits the door open as hard as he can. We hear a thump and a groan as the zombie gets knocked backwards. It was probably standing there licking the door knob when Ryan threw it open. Ryan does a quick scan of the room before running in. I follow on his heels and see the zombie scrabbling on its back, trying desperately to get up. The random thought that it reminds me a bit of a turtle flits through my brain before I push the inappropriate thought to the back of my mind.