Chapter Eight Part Three - Drunk

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Safe in the knowledge that the doors of metal and wood would keep the Zeds at bay, Annalise sat upon the floor with her back almost flat against the bar. Her legs crossed, her sword lay evenly across her knees.

Joan stirred after a few hours, mumbling something incoherent in her sleep. The Corporal had no such issues though. He had begun to snore as soon as his head had hit the seat cushion he was using as a pillow, and he had not stopped since. In fact the only other regular noise Annalise could hear was the occasional Zed banging on – or banging into – the door.

It was not at all long before the storm really hit. The wind rattled the windows and howled around the building as the rain lashed down with such ferocity that Annalise was almost certain that every drop of water would smash a tiny hole in the ceiling.

Feeling the need to stretch her legs, Annalise took hold of her sword and got to her feet. She made her way around the bar and helped herself to another warm Heineken, lit a cigarette and made her way over to one of the windows.

With her knees resting upon the bench seat she peered through a minuscule gap in the drawn curtains. What she saw outside scared her, no mean feat for a young woman who had seen countless horrors over the last few months. There must have been over one hundred Zeds within sight. She had no idea exactly what had drawn the undead to the village of Minstead in such large numbers, but it certainly did not bode at all well for the three survivors to make a clean get away.

A floorboard creaked behind her, startling her and she whirled around, taking her sword in a wide arc at neck height. Luckily she managed to prevent herself from decapitating Joan. To the girl's credit she hardly flinched; a twitch of her eye and nothing more.

“What's rattled your chain, 'Lise?” she asked, inclining her head slightly in the direction of the blade that was currently resting a fraction of an inch from the skin of her neck.

“Sorry,” Annalise replied, gesturing towards the window. “Have a look.”

Joan did as she was told and let out a low whistle.

“That's a shit load of Zeds.”

“Aye, you're not wrong. I don't know what they're all doing here, either. I mean we know they're attracted to noise, so I suppose it could have something to do with the way that bloody wind is whistling around the village.”

“It's definitely making a damn racket,” Joan agreed as she lit a cigarette. “We'll know soon enough if they're still there when the storm abates.”

“How's a bloke supposed to sleep with you two heathens prattling on?” Simon mumbled, though there was humour in his voice, not anger.

“Sorry, Simon,” said Joan. “We didn't mean to wake you.”

“Ah it's all right. The places I've been I'm used to getting only a few hours when I can,” he replied with a shrug. “So did I hear you two saying something about a shit load of Zeds?”

“Aye, a hundred at least,” Annalise said with a nod.

“Guess I'm not going for a jog then.” He chuckled, and helped himself to a beer. “Now I don't know about you ladies, but I think I might get very, very drunk!”

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