ZOMB-POCALYPSE

Chapter Five

Ryan plants his boot in the center of the zed's chest and raises his knife, getting ready to swing down. He stops suddenly and looks at me. In the dim light that's filtering in through the open window, I take an unconscious step back. It's like we are connected through some sort of psychic link, and I already know what he's going to say.

"Jane..."

My name has me lifting my eyes off the struggling corpse.

"You need the practice. This is the best scenario we can hope for to figure this out." His attention is on the struggling zombie that he is managing to pin down with his heavy work boots, but he's holding the enormous blade out to me.

I take a tentative step forward, then stop. Killing the zombie to save Ryan was one thing; I'm not sure I could do it again.

"This is life and death, Jane," Megan chimes in and I turn a glare on her—the traitor.

It has already been made abundantly clear that Megan has no problem killing anything.

"He's already dead," Megan encourages me.

Still, I stand there, numb, unable to make a decision.

"Every minute you waste thinking about this is a chance I could get bit standing here," Ryan snaps and that spurs me into motion.

I reach for the blade with trembling fingers.

"Hold it so it's comfortable for you," Ryan instructs me as his warm fingers wrap around my icy ones. "You want to put the whole weight of your body into your swing, and aim for the head...the eye or somewhere that will be easy to hit, like the temple. You don't have a lot of weight behind you, so you'll have to go for the easier kills until I can teach you how to shoot."

I close my eyes for a minute and swallow down some of my fear.

"Don't shut your eyes!" Ryan yells at me, snapping me out of my mental preparations.

The zombie's bloodied hands and broken, chipped fingernails make wet scratching noises as he claws helplessly at the linoleum floor. I tell my mind to go blank. Then, with Ryan's words echoing in my head, I swing hard.

I'm aiming for his eye, but he moans and my aim gets thrown off. The knife embeds in his cheek, hitting bone as the blade loses its momentum. The zombie's teeth snap dangerously close to my wrist, and pure adrenaline shoots through my body, giving me the strength to pull the knife from the zed's tattered face.

I aim more carefully this time, and the knife hits true. The noise of stabbing a human eyeball is terrible, and my hand is coated in black, sludgy blood. I begin shaking—maybe I never stopped—as the zombie gives its own final shake and stops moving permanently.

I leave the knife in the zombie's skull and turn to walk away. I'm sure I'm going to throw up again. As I huddle in the corner of the room, waiting for the familiar burn in my throat, it doesn't come. I suck in deep, steadying breaths and oddly begin to feel my pulse hammer a little less.

Good God, am I actually getting used to this crap? Ryan pulls his knife from the corpse and uses a pillowcase he found in the bedroom to wipe the gore off.

Ryan gives me a nod and I respond with a sickly smile.

"Happy now?" I ask, and he frowns.

"I didn't make you do that to be mean, Jane. Nothing about this situation makes me happy, but I want you to be able to survive." Ryan looks pissed off at me.

I deflate even more, if that's possible. I think about saying sorry, but he's already moved away from me, and the snub hurts.

"Let's clear the rest of the house," he barks the orders and motions for Megan to follow him.