SurvivorZ

30

JOHN

"Ready?"

John Kenney glanced over at Mike. The ex-cop stood with his back against the door and the butcher knife clutched in his hand, looking anything but prepared for the trouble they were about to invite in. He nodded anyway.

John turned his attention to Roberta, at his other side. The woman leaning against his apartment door gulped and gave him a curt nod. He figured her scared features were probably a dead ringer for the one he was wearing himself.

His plan was so beyond insane that the two weren't even in the same zip code. The only thing crazier was leaving their makeshift barricade in place, sitting put, and waiting for the zombies banging down his front door to eventually get tired and go away.

"Okay. Here goes nothing..." Mike said.

He moved from the door, turned, and raised his weapon. Roberta planted more of her weight against the wood. Now that it was just her and John holding back the monsters on the other side, the apartment door threatened to rattle off its hinges.

John gripped the doorknob. He regarded Mike with raised brows. Mike nodded again, this time with a look of grim determination.

"Do it," he said.

John turned the knob. The door practically doubled in weight. The mass of undead bodies pressed against it felt as though they were trying to hold back a burst dam. Were it not for their combined weight, it would have flown open and deposited the zombies into his apartment. As it was, they were able to limit the opening to a few inches.

The growling outside intensified as bloody hands suddenly reached through the gap. Mike bounced in place and raised his knife shoulder-high, waiting for his chance to strike.

"More," he said.

John and Roberta eased up on the door, allowing the crack to widen. Something thudded against it, threatening to dislodge it further. John pressed a palm against it and pushed back, pinning a snarling dead man in place as he poked his head and one arm through, up to his shoulder.

"Hold it there," Mike ordered them.

The cop reached for the zombie's flailing arm, missed, and then grabbed it by the wrist. He leaned in, pinning the arm off to the side, and drove the blade of his butcher knife into the hissing monster's cranium. It emitted a huff of foul-smelling air and gaped at him, its jaw hanging in an expression of dull amazement.

Mike pried the knife loose with a soft sucking sound. The grooved blade slipped free, coated in something that looked too tarry for blood. He released the dead man's arm. John relaxed his hold on the door, allowing the slain body to drop to the floor.

"Is it working?" Roberta whispered against his ear. Though they could both feel the pressure easing a bit, she couldn't see Mike's dirty work. That suited everyone just fine, especially her.

"It's working," John replied. "One down."

Two more hands shot through the gap. John tried pushing against them, but the torso now wedging the door open meant that was as closed as it was going to get.

Mike stepped back, looking for an opening. "I got two of them here," he said.

"Can you handle it?" John asked.

"I don't have a shot at their heads. They're both trying to squeeze in. Give them some space."

John and Roberta gave the door some slack. The zombies pushed it open wider. One of the hands extended further, almost touching Mike. The other slid further down, knee-high, apparently climbing over Mike's first kill and trying to gain entrance around its companion's legs.