Science Fiction Smackdown II Entry (Zombie-Fun-Excitement-Spectacular!!!!)

Chapter 6: Island View

David perched on the peak of the brown tile roof, staring down at the creatures. The three zombies in the road had reached the front of the garage, and were scratching at metal door, as if they could bring it down simply by rubbing it with their claw-like fingers. The sound was like a thousand homeward-bound schoolchildren, dragging a thousand sticks against a metal fence. David shuddered, and turned his attention to the zombies in the garden. They were well aware of David's predicament, and appeared to be attempting to climb the wall, fingers and damaged toes scrabbling at the mortared spaces between the courses of brick. David noted, with a sinking feeling, that one of the monsters was substantially taller than him. It would be only a matter of time before the mad scrabbling would bring the creature up to the top of the wall. Now that he had some sort of weapon, however, the fluttering in David's stomach calmed slightly. If he could only make his way safely to the bicycle, while somehow positioning himself so that the zombies weren't between him and the road, he was sure he could outride them, so to speak. But he wasn't at all clear on how he might achieve that.  A nail gun didn't have any range to speak of.

David wondered if the creatures knew how limited the tool actually was. He wondered if they would perceive it as any sort of threat at all. Tentatively, he pointed the nail gun in the general direction of the zombies at the garage door. No reaction.

"Hey, zombies!" He called, pointing the nail gun more purposefully. "I've got a gun."

One of the creatures looked up. David held his breath. So, he thought to himself, they don't understand English, do they? The zombie's left eye was hidden behind a purplish, bruised lid. The right eye was like a fried egg: yellowish, rheumy, and runny. It seemed to regard David with a sort of cold slyness, some elemental intelligence hiding under a brutish, slow shield.

"That's right," David said, brandishing the roofer's tool like it was a dueling pistol, "I have a gun, and if you don't leave me alone, I'm going to shoot you!"

The creature titled its head to one side, as if considering the matter. David held his breath. The zombie took a step back, and David breathed a sigh of relief. Now, if only he could frighten away the other two monsters, just long enough to get away -

David froze as the zombie who had stepped away took a step forward again. Without even looking up at him, the zombie joined its fellows in clawing at the metal door.

David lay down on the roof, his head and shoulders over the edge "I wasn't kidding!" David said, depressing the trigger on the nail gun.

David had expected an effect something like trying to hit a friend with a staple from across a room; you can press on the stapler, and the staple will fly out, but it never goes very far. He did not expect the solid 'fwoomp!' sound that the nail gun made, nor the way it sent vibrations up his arm and well into his shoulder and jaw. And he did not expect that the nail would fly a good two feet - before bouncing harmlessly off of the zombie's shoulder. No reaction. The boney fingers continued their noisy dance on the metal surface.

Now that he was lying down on the roof, the creatures' hands were well within his own reach, which was a sobering thought. If he wished, he could easily reach out and touch them. Or, David realised with a certain sickening certainty, he could nail their hands to the door, slip off the roof, and run like mad.

David did not put his plan into action immediately. First, he listened to his heart beat while he lay panting on the roof. After no less than 48 beats, his thoughts turned to the possibility of outfoxing the zombies in the garden. Unfortunately, the garden wall enclosed all sides of the yard. David knew he couldn't manage to climb the wall before the creatures caught him. He listened to another ten heartbeats, then, very quietly, propped himself up on his elbows. He looked down at the three foes on the road. He took a deep breath. And then he began.

David tightened his grip on the nailgun's handle. Then, silently, he used his free hand to brace his wrist. Taking a deep breath, he lowered the nail gun, until it was flush with one of the pallid, grasping hands. Then he pressed the trigger.

The creature shrieked, but David was elated - the hand was caught, neatly stuck to the metal door. Better yet, the other zombies seemed to take no noticed. The hand was rotting and tattered, but the nail still held, at least for now. David knew that he had to move quickly.

Without even pausing for another breath, he nailed two more hands to the door, one from each of the remaining zombies. Then, taking a deep breath, he clattered down the surface of the roof, back onto the garden wall. With wings at his heels, he dashed along the wall, only leaping down onto the road when he knew he was beyond his victims' reach. The red bicycle was still laying on the ground where he had kicked it down as he clambered up the wall. He wrenched the bicycle into an upright position, threw himself onto it, and pedalled as if his life depended on it - which it probably did.

David didn't stop until he found himself back at the main road. Then he stopped, panting, and leaned over the handle bars. To his immense surprise, he found he was laughing. Wild, crazy laughter was pouring from him in great, hiccoughing bursts - and he didn't care. He sounded completely insane, and he didn't care. He didn't care at all. When he was done, he got back onto the bicycle, and slowly started to peddle back towards Brockenhurst. He had left his fleece pullover there. He figured he ought to get it back.

Instructions this round: Do whatever you want, but get it done within a week, and make sure it's under 2000 words . . .