When The Light Goes Out (19 page)

"Excuse me Blaz?"

"Don't be startin' stuff, man!" "Shut up!"

"Don't tell him to shut up, you crabby old man!" "You stay out of this!"

"Why should I stay out of it?!"

"Because it's none of your business you brat!" "Don't go around name calling!"

"You started it!" "Prove it!"

"What was that 'crabby old man' bit?!" "You stay out of it!"

"Shut up!"

Amazingly, I hadn't said anything during the entire argument. I'd opted for just watching it with the tiniest, satisfied grin I could manage plastered on my face. Unfortunately, the smile wasn't small enough, and Dustin saw it. Tossing an angry glare in my direction.

I just shrugged my shoulders. "I didn't say anything."

"You aren't helping." "What'd I do?" "Excel.."

"What?!"

"You aren't helping." "I didn't do anything!"

"Sure you didn't."

"Try to tell me I planned it."

"Kids, just settle down. Please. Just this once."

The kids did shut up then, however not by Dustin's soft spoken word. It was instead by the squeaking of metal, somewhere across the large room. We all quieted down at the high pitched squeal of bending metal, trying to pin point the exact location. But it wasn't until there was a decided thump that even Pixie appeared to have a clear idea of the point of origin.

"The front door?"

Everyone looked, hoping praying that we were all wrong. It wasn't the door. No, no it wasn't. There was no way that it was the door. Unfortunately, even from across the room it was easy to see the way that the strong, sturdy hinges were pulling away from their anchor.

"Jesus, no."

When, exactly, my luck had gotten so bad I couldn't recall. Maybe it was that one time when I was a child, and the milk wouldn't stay fresh for more than two days, due to a faulty refrigerator. Maybe it started when I realized that none of the family pets seemed to be surviving more than a few months. Maybe it was a million other things. But common sense told me that my bad luck began at the same time as our undead epidemic.

News Flash: The dead forget their place in society. News Flash: A Coffin Stuffer Special.

"Why?"

More an exasperated sound than a word. "Jesus, why?"

As the hinges began to break, and the pole keeping the door in place, and the frame itself, I wondered how religion got brought into it. Really, thinking about it with the definition of a zombie in mind, a dead body that reanimates meaning to restore to life Jesus was, in a way, a zombie himself. The whole rising from the dead on the third day bit.

Not that I'd say it out loud.

I wasn't so sure I wanted the guns turned on me. "Dammit."

"What do we do?" "There's no back door!"

"Shush! Quiet down ye ninnies. There ain't a back door, but there's certainly a front door for ye to use." "But that's where they're coming from!"

"That's why ye fight yer way through." The tone of Blaz's voice held a decided 'duh.' As if the answer was so obvious he just didn't understand why he needed to explain. Which was completely understandable to me. The answer was rather obvious.

"Well than, everyone, grab a weapon." "A weapon?!"

"No!" "Why?!" "You do it!"

"I
am
going to be doing it. But if you want to survive you need to be able to make it out yourself, you know? If I'm taking them down in the front, someone needs to take them down in the back. I'm not going to hold your hand, and be your personal bodyguard the whole way. Really now, if it comes down to it. You or me. Who am I most likely to choose? My point exactly! So either grab a weapon, or prepare to die."

The speech seemed to have at least a little effect, as the people started moving to potential brain whackers. But it was the sound of the door flying toward the ground at an unnatural angle that really cemented the deal. People grabbed whatever was there, and albeit reluctantly, turned to the front door.

Glaring. Shaking. Cursing. Sniffling.

Ready to kill or be killed.

Or, at the very least, as ready as a group of college students, foreigners, and one child could get.

I never thought that the sound of a zombie running was very distinct. But really it is. It's this uneven sort of noise that doesn't leave your head once you hear it. Because even if you don't realize that it's a zombie making the noise, it's just so unnatural that you can't help but remember. I was almost positive that the creature was running with a limp, but didn't wait to find out.

Dustin was already running towards the door. We were all beginning to follow.

As an afterthought, I grabbed Pixie's hand. Her's was the only back I was going to be actively watching. She was too little for me to expect her to take care of herself in such a situation. Considering this, I was almost shocked that it wasn't Dustin who scooped her into his protective embrace. Not that I could complain, he was taking the lead and had my deepest respect for doing so.

I really didn't want to be in the lead no matter how much I'd been spouting.

My weapon of choice was the closest broom, surprisingly one with a wooden handle. You never seem to see those anymore, so I was slightly shocked to find one. Slightly relieved too. I was quite positive that it would do far more damage than the dinky little aluminum handled brooms that were so popular. An opinion proven fact as it connected with a zombie head in a way that no light weight broom could have. And, if I sharpened the end, I'd have a spear too.

When I got hit on the hip with a rather painful chunk of metal (probably a piece that had been ripped off of an unsuspecting bit of barbecue equipment) I realized that everyone was swinging their weapon around like an idiot. Maybe they were so scared that they forgot there were other living, breathing people in the room. Maybe they didn't care. Maybe they took the "prepare to die" bit far more seriously than I anticipated.

"Calm the hell down!" I think I may have sounded angrier than I wanted to. "We need to beat them, not each other. Watch where you're swinging." Unfortunately the group didn't calm down at all. They actually started swinging even more wildly.

I got hit again.

I winced and grabbed my hip. Pixie screamed beside me.

The moment I heard the high pitched, frantic noise I spun. In a full circle, as it turned out. But I couldn't see Pixie anywhere. I'd let go of her hand for maybe two seconds, and I

was regretting it more and more as I almost dropped my broom. "Pixie?!" I called out. "Pixie, where are you?!"

"What happened to Pixie?" Dustin's voice had a bit more of an accent than I was used to, so I figured he was just as scared as we were.

I made contact with those green eyes as I tightened my grip on the broom stick. "I" I shook my head. "I don't know where she went! I let go of her hand for a couple of seconds.." "Could a zombie have grabbed her?!"

"Maybe! But why would they grab her? Wouldn't they just" "Dustin!"

Both of our heads shot in the direction of the scream, and there was Pixie. Struggling in the arms of a zombie who actually wasn't trying to devour her. He was just holding her, struggling back to the front door. Well, not struggling actually. And maybe that's what made it so scary. The other zombies were actually moving out of his way. Allowing him through.

"Let me go!"

I tried to move towards Pixie, but, suddenly, there was a wall of rotting flesh before me. They all seemed to crowd in at the exact moment I made my move. And I couldn't help thinking that the whole thing was planned. The motion was way too smooth otherwise.

"
Pixie!
" I couldn't stop myself from crying out, from reaching out a futile hand. I knew she was too far away to come even remotely close to grabbing it, but I did it anyway. "I got her!"

I watched in horror as Dustin took off in the youngster's direction. Not quite sure if I called to him out loud or not, because he looked back at me. Then he ran off without hesitation, body slamming a group of the undead. A glance showed me that several of the other kids had stopped all movement, and watched, completely terrified, as Dustin escaped the snapping jaws of the zombies narrowly several times.

The moment he was out of sight the zombies seemed to fight with a stronger intensity. "We need to get out of here!"

"Get to the door!"

"Swing as hard as you can!" "To your left! Your left!" "Behind you!"

"Oh my God!" "Get out!" "Get away!"

I tried to block out all of the screaming, all of the voices. But several got through. I dwelled on the words, fighting my way closer, and closer to the door. Wanting nothing more than to get outside, where I would be safe. Or at the very least, where I would be safer than I was in the zombie infested warehouse.

Swinging with a controlled force, I tried to think of where we could go once we got out. How we would find Dustin, and Pixie again once we left. Really, I couldn't think of anything. Other than leaving a note, there was absolutely no way that I could tell Dustin where we were going.

I just had to have faith that they'd find us. Psht.

Faith.

Before I really knew it I'd made it outside, into surprisingly fresh air. Unfortunately, with the shocking number of the living dead in the warehouse, there were dozens more outside. All of which were suddenly staring at me. I could swear it. I could feel hungry eyes bearing holes into me from all sides. I could feel a gust of wind as the mass seemed to move towards me at once.

Maybe we'd been safer inside. Trapped, yes.

But safer all the same. "Dammit."

Maybe it was the fact that I was being backed into a wall. "
Dammit
."

Maybe it was the way, I friggen swear, they were licking their lips at me. "
Dammit!
"

Or maybe it was just the fact that I dropped the broom. "Jesus Christ, beat me with a canoe."

Bang.

I swear the noise was that exact word. "Bang!" It came from right next to my ear. I wasn't so sure if someone was shooting at me, or at them, or at something I wasn't aware existed, but it got me to collapse in an attempt to prove that I was already dead so shooting me would be a waste of lead.

Then I heard laughter.

"Ma Malachi?!" I demanded, eyes shooting open before I even finished stumbling over the syllables. Unfortunately, at first I simply didn't recognize the boy. There was something disgustingly different about him that made me want to cry.

The bandage wrapped about his head. "You're still useless."

"You're still a bastard." "So what else is new?" "How's about the bandage?" "I wasn't bitten."

"Then what"

"How about we get you away from the angry diners first?" "Good idea."

I'm not ashamed to admit that I shot to my feet in that single moment. I'm not ashamed to say I was scared, and I'm even less ashamed to admit I was happy the boy was back. He was the man with the guns. He knew how to use it. Not me. Definitely not me. I'd proven that once before, and didn't wish to do so again.

"Jesus, it's good to see you man!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Was the weak response I got as I saw him hook his thumb in a direction somewhere North (maybe) of the warehouse. I wasn't one for directions but I did notice a group of people, fighting their way from the deathtrap, in the direction the boy had pointed. "Where would you be without me?"

"In someone's digestive track, why?" "Useless."

"We've gone over this." "Have we now?"

I actually leaned over to kiss the boys cheek.

"You do not realize how nice it is to have you back." "Nice to see I was missed."

"The 'ell were ye? Ye snot nosed brat, goin' missin', making everyone worry like a bunch of 'tards! They were worried about ye, and here you are grinn'. Playing hero like the classic man. Where the 'ell were ye?!" My eyes shot up at the way that Blaz approached Malachi, and me.

I simply can't explain the reasoning behind the action, but I stepped in front of Malachi. The one with the gun. The one who'd pulled my ass out of the fire more than once in the few hours I'd known him. I probably shouldn't have stepped in front of him, as it was an assumption of weakness. But I did anyway.

"Blaz, don't get your panties in a bunch." "Me panties ain't in a bunch. Move kiddo." "No."

"Move!"

"Blaz! Enough! This is neither the time nor the place, and I'm tired of your damned attitude. Malachi doesn't need to answer you. He doesn't need to answer to anybody. So maybe you should lower your voice and ask nicely. Like a normal human being!"