Z-Minus

Z-MINUS: 4 HOURS 39 MINUTES

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know. Please, let me go!"

"Well, you know now, but we're going to have to make sure you remember in future."

The leader approached with his finger in Maisie's face. Maisie stopped crying and stepped forward. She bit the end of the leader's finger, and then aimed a swift kick at his shin. The boy howled, and shook his hand off. Red droplets stained his shirt.

Amidst the confusion, Maisie turned and ran toward the shop, slipping free of one boy's fingers. But the second boy kept hold of her. She turned to kick him on the shin too, but he turned at the last minute, and it was only a glancing blow. Maisie spat in his face, and clawed at his cheek with her fingernails, drawing blood.

"My face!" the boy said. "My beautiful face!"

The boy let Maisie go, but she got nowhere as the leader grabbed her and threw her to the ground.

"You're going to pay for that!" the leader said, raising his heavy boot.

The shop doorbell rang and Chris stepped outside.

"I'll pay for it," Chris said.

"She was stealing our food!" the leader said.

"It's not stealing if no one owns it."

"We own it!"

"No," Chris said. "The shop owners own it. If they present themselves, I'll pay for what we've taken."

Chris helped Maisie up, and led her toward the shop.

"You can't take our food!" the leader said.

"Watch me," Chris said.

Chris heard heavy lumbering footsteps behind him. He was expecting it, and spun around, bringing his leg up, catching the leader in the chest, and pushed him back. He landed on his backside with a heavy "Oof!"

"What's going on here?" a deep voice said.

A squat man with a scraggly brown beard and barrel-chest approached. He had no neck, and instead had large muscular rounded shoulders, like a bull. The type of man who'd normally spend every free minute and penny he had in the pub, swiftly followed by bar room brawls, but circumstances had forced him into a position of power. He wore a club at his waist. There were three men at his side. Chris sensed trouble and put himself between the man and Maisie.

"They're trying to steal our food, Dad," the teenage leader said, rubbing his chest and getting to his feet.

"All right, son," the bearded man said, "I'll take care of it from here."

The teenage leader backed away, glaring at Chris, and watched the show from a safe distance.

"What's your name, stranger?" the bearded man said.

"Chris. Chris Smith."

"I'm Lionel. No doubt you've heard about the undead situation we're faced with these days."

"Yeap."

"This village decided to do something about it. We've boarded up our windows, put defence measures in place, and collected all our food in one location. So, you see, we can't let you have those items. We're going to need them if we're going to survive."

"Someone said we could take some."

"That someone isn't in charge. I am. Now, if you keep on driving, you'll come to a village down the road. They might have something you can have."

"Or they might not."

Lionel shrugged.

"That's the way it is, I'm afraid," he said.