Better off Undead

Chapter 25: Escape

For several minutes, Eli had trouble tracking down the makeshift arrow he had made. Eventually he came to realize that the wind had blown it apart. He ended up simply having to search again for the alleyway that afforded him a view of the police station.

His time in the tomb had cost him yet another day, and now here was again, back out in the bright sun, struggling against the endless weight of the heat. He grabbed onto the iron bars of the fence and attempted to catch his breath. His body craved sustenance, but the last thing he wanted to do in that moment was eat. He could eat when he made it back to the base. Or when he was dead.

On shaky arms he attempted to pull himself up and over the fence, but found it too difficult now. Dropping back down to the ground he pulled off the bag and tossed that over first. With the drop in weight he found scaling the fence to be a significantly easier task.

Back on solid ground, he grabbed up his bag and hurried on down the alleyway. The alleyway was already beginning to fill up with zombies, but now Eli was ready for them.

While he hadn't been able to bring himself to keep the ballpeen hammer, he was still far from defenseless. In his left hand he held the crow bar, and with his right he reached into the bag and pulled out a pool cue.

Unfortunately, the pool cue did not seem like a great choice. It was incredibly awkward to hold on to, and as he swung it at the nearest zombies he discovered that there just did not seem to be a good way of attacking with it. If he held it by the thin end, he had almost no control over it. If he held it by the wider, heavier end, then he could control it quite well, but the thin, light point did hardly any damage to the zombies whatsoever. Also, after only a couple of hits the shaft was beginning to crack. He could use it to stab with, probably, but he was completely convinced that if he did so, he would not be able to free the weapon for a second use.

Despite his difficulty, he was able to break through the zombie mass and he burst out into the street. By now, sweat was pouring down his face and his heart was pounding away inside his chest. His breath was heavy and labored as his chest struggled against the weight of the bag's strap. He grabbed a part of his shirt and tried to wipe the sweat out of his eyes, but it was of little use as the shirt itself was already soaking wet. Eli tossed away the mostly useless pool cue and pulled the bag off his shoulder. He reached inside for the next available item.

He pulled forth a frying pan.

Frowning, Eli almost simply tossed this item away as well, but taking a quick look around at the approaching hordes of zombies he decided he did not have the time or luxury of second guessing. Besides, he told himself as he hoisted the bag back up over his shoulder, he had also doubted the crowbar before finding it surprisingly useful.

The frying pan quickly proved its worth. While the light, specialized metal used to create it did not quite have the stopping power of the much heavier crowbar, the large, flat surface doubled as a shield to keep away those biting, gnashing jaws.

When he finished clearing out the most immediate zombies, he tried to make a run for the police station, but immediately had to stop. The world seemed to be swimming, and he suddenly felt like he was under water. He took a step and nearly fell down, so he quickly pulled his foot back and grabbed on to a conveniently nearby light pole to steady himself. The combination of heat, dehydration, and lack of nutrition was clearly getting to him. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but with no luck.

Some zombies closed in on him, and again he was forced to resume his attacks. He realized he probably had all the coordination of a drug-addict striking at phantoms, but it didn't matter. As long as he was able to keep his attackers at bay.