“The zombies?”

“No, Dave. The pizza guy. I placed an order when I knew we were going to be here for a while,” I said. No idea if Dave grasped sarcasm. Didn’t seem to. Part of me thought he was dying to ask what toppings I got on the pie.

“He’s right,” Josh said. “We don’t have time to clear the place. We have to lock it down. Good.”

“This picture window is huge.”

“Everyone just be quiet. Shhh.” I said. “Josh, you and Dave go look for a back door. Stay there. If things go bad out here, and as long as it stays clear back there, we’re going to need a way out. Fast. And Josh?”

He stopped. “Yeah?”

“Stay low, away from windows. We can’t be making a lot of noise. Right now, I think the only thing we got on our side is the flimsy locks on the doors. They start breaking windows, we’re running for it. And Josh?”

“Huh?”

“Allison, give him your radio,” I said. “They make a lot of static, Josh. Only use it if you have to. And Josh?”

He cocked a hip and sighed at me. “Yeah?”

“Take Dave,” I said.

“I don’t like this,” Allison said when we were alone. “This seems worse than when we were in the security office.”

I didn’t have time to compare dire situations. The stairs that led upstairs were directly behind the front door. “Stand behind me. Watch the stairs.”

“Watch them for what?”

I put my shoulder against the door. “Don’t be stupid.”

I pressed my eye to the peephole. At least one of those things most definitely saw Allison turn on the flashlight. But not all of them. They were all off the street now. Forty, fifty of them. And they were on the lawn. They were walking right toward the front window.

“Don’t make a sound.”

Chapter Twenty

We were locked inside a house. We might not be alone. The zombies outside saw us in here. It was accidental, I know. Alley should have known better than to switch on the flashlight, even if she thought the batteries were dead. Now we were split up. Josh and Dave were somewhere in the back of this place, hopefully by an exit, keeping an eye out for creatures back there, while Allison and I had the front door blocked and were silently hopeful the things would lose interest and continue their trek south down Mt. Read. Too bad there wasn’t any traffic. Would love seeing the lot of them struck by vehicles.

This was not the time for day dreaming, or wishful thinking.

“Chase,” Allison whispered.

“Shhh.”

“Chase,” she said, again.

I turned away from the peephole. Turned away from scouting the area on the opposite side of the door. Turned away from watching most of the zombies move on, finding nothing but what must have appeared to them like a vacant house. “What?”

Allison had her arms held out in front of her. Holding the Y handle of her hedge clippers in a white-knuckle grip. “We’re not alone.”

It was a whisper. I heard her as if she’d yelled. I looked up the stairs. Hairs on my arm stood. A cold sweat broke out on my skin. A shudder passed down my spine. “Ah, shit,” I said.

It was like something out of a horror film. The old woman at the top of staircase stood still in a white nightie that reached to just above her ankles. Ruffles around the cuffs and neckline. Pale, decayed skin was the flesh that covered her skull and was her face. Her arms were at her side. She didn’t appear to have any fingers on one hand. Made me think if she was the only one in the house, she might have eaten the digits herself.

“We need to stay quiet,” I said. “Watch the door. Don’t make a sound.”

Allison and I swapped spots. I wanted her to keep an eye at the peephole. I had my back to her. I knew she was watching me and the woman at the top of the stairs, regardless. Suppose I would be too.

I held my shovel; the rounded end aimed at the woman, as if it were a spear, and walked up the first stair.

“What are you doing?” Allison had her hand on my shoulder.

“She has to go.”

“It’s her house.”

I ignored that stupid comment and took another step closer. The woman just stood there. She wasn’t swaying. She wasn’t moaning. Had she been glowing, I’d of sworn she was a ghost and not a zombie. And on a night like tonight, I’d have easily accepted a haunting. Easily.

“Watch the peep hole,” I said. My eyes never left the woman. There was no way to gauge her age. The peeling flesh on her cheeks and milky white eyeballs made it impossible. Only thing I had was the tuft of thin white hair rolled in curlers and held in place with a yellow and blue bandanna. No one did that anymore, just old people did.

Seven steps separated us. The blade of the shovel would reach her in two. I held the wood handle with both hands. Sweat coated my palms. I gripped and re-gripped as I took another step. With a jab, I think I could reach her from here, without having to get any closer. I needed the striking blow to deliver death. Not just knock her back, or cut into her. Like it or not, I’ have to shave more off the distance between us.

It was the way she just stood there, though. Staring. Vacant. She didn’t seem anxious, or hungry to eat me. Drool, or puss, or nothing fell from her lips. If she wasn’t a ghost, I’d put money on poorly crafted mannequin, way before I guessed flesh eating zombie.

I pulled the shovel back, so I could strike fast and hard with some momentum as I climbed the next step. Sweat was behind my knees. I felt more apprehensive about this one. I’d killed a few along the way. Maybe because the few I’d killed put my life in immediate danger. Or Allison’s. And at this point, Mannequin has not made as much as an aggressive flinch.

She freaked me the fuck out, but I didn’t feel threatened. Yet.

Would her freaking me out be reason enough to destroy her skull? She was not human. That was clear. Evident in the black goo that dripped from stumps that used to contain at least eight fingers and a few thumbs. You sever parts of the body, you bleed. Blood. Red blood. Not goo. Black goo.

We were in danger. We were. A flock of zombies were on the lawn. Enveloping the house--Mannequin’s house. They did not seem to be interested enough to force entry. Had a feeling if they suspected four . . . humans were inside, they might. The way they’d appeared all gang-like and organized, I couldn’t put past them that it wouldn’t take much to realize breaking glass would be as good as opening a door. Mannequin had to go. Just like I’d said when I’d climbed up the first step. Whether that had been for Allison’s sake or mine, did not matter.

Feeling like a coiled rattler, and just as I was ready to lunge springing forward to chop Mannequin to death, the radio on my hip squawked and hissed. I stared down at it.

“Chase? What’s it like out front. Clear back here.”

My jaw dropped open. Fucking Dave. Josh gave Dave the fucking radio.

“Chase!” Allison said.

I looked up the stairs. Mannequin was gone. Just, gone.

Shit. Now what. “I have to find her. Please, Alley, keep a lookout.” I took the radio off my hip, handed it down to her. “Turn down the volume, and answer that fuck.”

“You’re going up there?”

“Unless you saw her pass me on the stairs and she’s hiding down here somewhere? Did you see her do that? Did you see her pass me? Is she down here?”

“You don’t have to be a dick,” she said.

I gave her my back, re-gripped my hold on the shovel and climbed the stairs into a windowless and completely pitch black hallway. “Ah, shit.”

I could barely see a thing in front of me. I strained to listen. Thought I might hear Mannequin breathing, or groaning, or something. But nothing. Not a sound. About the only thing I heard was my own heartbeat. It filled my ears with a muffled tha-thump, tha-thump, and my own heavy breathing. I might not hear Mannequin, but if she wasn’t deaf with old age, she’d hear me.