What the f**k had she done?

She pushed herself faster and something dug into her foot. A piercing pain shot up her leg. Hopping in place, she tried to keep her balance. A shard of rock had punctured the sole of her foot. Blood dripped from between her toes. With a tug and a wince she pulled it out. Damn, it hurt.

The next moan sounded closer. It came from a straggle of bushes beside the drive. The driveway hadn’t seemed this far when she’d been running away. Like an optical illusion, the distance seemed to have lengthened and warped. She ignored the pain in her foot and pressed onward. Movement from the darkened doorway of the first cabin caught her eye. A monster shuffled out into the early night. Its white sundress had been stained in patches. Dirty, crusty scratches covered its arms and legs. Sickly, bloodshot eyes took up half its face above a gaping mouth.

Roslyn’s stomach felt weighted, heavy with dread.

Another groaned behind her. A thick and heavy man. Or it once had been. Its bald head shone in the low light and its bloody mouth hung open, blackened tongue wiggling.

Roslyn sprinted, toes slick with blood and sore muscles straining. Climbing trees and aggressively f**king within a twenty-four hour period wasn’t good for her. Not when she wasn’t used to it.

Another infected stepped in front of her. It stumbled out from beside a parked car, a fancy new sedan. They were cutting her off. Closing in on her.

The knife—she still had the Swiss Army knife in her back pocket. Her hands trembled, slipping over the metal. It slid from her hands, useless anyway. Who was she kidding? She needed something that packed a punch. There weren’t a hell of a lot of choices.

In the garden bed to her right a steel picket was tied to the remains of a long-dead plant. Perfect.

She limped over and grabbed the rusted metal with damp hands, wrestling with it. The dirt had softened from the rain; it had to give. The stupid thing was her only chance. She could hear them coming, the constant moaning and wheezy, overexcited breathing. Her arms strained, tugging at the rusted length of metal. Shoulders ached from the stupid f**king tree climbing. But there wasn’t any giving up. They weren’t getting her. She threw her weight against it, once, twice, and it gave, wobbling in its widened hole.

Yes.

She pulled it free and swung wild, spinning around and gunning for whatever was nearest. And screaming at the top of her lungs while she did it. “NICK!”

Thunk.

The long piece of metal knocked the bitch in the white dress down. Caught it at head height and sent it reeling. The infected stumbled back and lost its balance, landing on its back. Its ear seemed to be hanging off and there was sort of gunk on the end of Roslyn’s weapon. Flesh and skin and whatever.

“Nick!”

Next came the big fat guy with the combover gone wrong. It snarled and spit dangled off its chin. This one probably wouldn’t fall as easily as the white-dress bitch. And that one was stirring, slowly trying to climb back up onto its feet. Its head remained at a funny angle, like it was nursed by her shoulder. Like her neck had been snapped. Why wasn’t it dead if it was that badly damaged?

“Nick!” she screamed again for the fun of it. Her throat felt stripped raw. “Nick!”

Nothing. No sign of him. Oh man, she was going to die, messily and alone. What the hell had she been thinking, coming out so late in the day?

The third one encroached, sneaking up on her side. More were emerging, coming out of the woods to join in the fun. Dark figures stumbled out of the shadows. In front of her the big bastard’s teeth chomped.

Snap. Snap. Snap.

She needed Nick.

A sweater hung in tatters from its chubby arms. Its filthy claw-like hands were outstretched and grasping for her. The tips of its fingers were just centimeters away.

She’d been on the girls’ softball team one lone semester, aged fourteen. Sports had never been her thing. But she’d stayed just long enough to pick up the basics. Steady your feet. Draw back. Eye on the target. Line it up. Put your all into it and step into the swing.

It turned its head at the last moment, catching the length of metal in its mouth. The sound of teeth shattering and its jawbone breaking … she’d never heard anything like it. Gray eyes rolled back into its head and it dropped at her feet.

Roslyn skipped back a few steps, straight into a prickly bush. The big bastard was down for the moment, but the white-dress woman reached for her. Three more infected gathered close.

She swung again with the steel picket, catching the bitch in the shoulder and sending it sprawling over the bastard at her feet. But Roslyn’s hands were too sweaty. The metal bar flew out of her grasp and landed on the driveway a couple of meters away. Past the big bastard, who was slowly coming to. Beyond the bitch in the dirty white dress. Prickly bushes at her back and infected at her front.

A gathering crowd of mindless killing machines staggered toward her. Five now, she could see five. One was a child still clutching a toy truck.

Oh, God.

The bitch clutched at her bare foot and Roslyn shook it off. She was out of time.

“Oh, I’m so f**ked,” she sobbed, took a deep breath and hollered his name one more time. Really put everything into it. “NICK!”

Then she fell to her knees and scrabbled beneath the bushes. Bare branches caught at her clothes and sticks and pebbles scored her hands. Tore at her skin and stung like shit. And tears of fear and pain fell from her face in a constant stream, which didn’t help at all.

Growling came from close behind. So f**king close that it sounded almost on top of her. Something grabbed at her ankle and she kicked back, trying to dislodge it.