Nine of us left. Me, Trev, Meths, Elephant, Stagger Lee, Tyler, Seez, the other Muslim boy and the Indian. As we run, twisting through corridors, I try to remember how many of us there were to begin with, but I can't. I've already forgotten the names and faces of the dead. I'm sure, if I sat down for five minutes, I'd be able to recall them. But right now they're vaguely remembered ghosts.
Sounds behind us again. The zombies must have overcome their fear of the light. The chase has resumed.
"Hold on," Trev pants, coming to a stop. "Where are we? I don't know if we're heading back towards the gym or close to the front."
We gaze around. There are classrooms on both sides but I don't recognize them. All of the corridors have started to look the same. I'm as lost as Trev. By the blank stares of the others, I know that they are too.
Tyler coughs shyly and points. "The front's that way."
"You're sure?" Trev asks.
"Yeah," he says with a small smile. "I'm good at directions, me."
"Then let's go."
We head the way Tyler pointed. He'd better be right. If he's not, I'll kill him before the zombies can.
We turn a corner and I run into a boy my own size. We collide, bounce off each other and fall. Sitting up and rubbing my head, I realize it's Pox and I burst into a smile.
"Pox! I thought you were..."
I stop. Pox is staring at me with a hungry look. I remember that the last time I saw him, he was dining on Dunglop's brain. My eyes flash to the fingers of his left hand and I see a light green moss running along the bite marks. Bones jut nastily from the ruined tips of his fingers.
Rick's just behind Pox. He's limping, dragging one leg. His foot's missing. Pox or another zombie must have chewed it off before he turned. But there's not much blood.
Pox scuttles after me. Dunglop's brain obviously wasn't enough to satisfy his appetite. Like Meths, poor old Dunglop never was the brightest of sparks, so he must have made for no more than a snack.
I kick at Pox's face, driving him back. As I try to scramble to my feet, Meths wades in and kicks Pox harder. Rick hops towards Meths, arms wide, fingers flexed like a cat's claws. Meths slips. Rick ducks in for the kill -
- then there's an unnatural roar and the zombie flies backwards, stomach ripped to shreds, blood spattering the wall and floor behind him.
Pox gets up and snarls. Goes for me again. There's another roar and his head explodes. Somebody's firing bullets. Someone has a gun.
Bloody yes, mate!
"His head!" I roar as Rick hobbles forward, guts spilling down his legs. "Shoot him in the head! That's the only way to stop them!"
The gun fires again and Rick's temple cracks open. He drops in a lifeless heap.
I turn to face the gunman. The others have all turned too, jaws slack, hardly able to believe that this is real. I'm hoping for a squadron of soldiers but it's just a normal-looking guy with a rifle. He hasn't lowered it and is staring grimly down the barrel at me.
"Were you bitten?" he growls.
"No!" I scream.
"Don't lie. I saw it attack you. Stand back!" he barks at the others.
I gape at the man with the gun. This is so unfair. To survive the zombies, only to be finished off by an idiot who won't listen. I'd love to knock some sense into his thick head. But it doesn't look like I'll have a chance, because he's aiming at the middle of my face. Any second now he's gonna -
"Stop!" another man roars. "Don't shoot! That's my daughter!"
"But I saw - " the man with the rifle begins.
The rest of what he says is lost to me. Because suddenly Dad is there, pushing past the idiot with the gun, spreading his arms wide, stooping to hug me.
"Dad!" I cry with a rush of relief.
"Becky!" he moans, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight. "My girl! My girl!"
Then he's kissing me and hugging me, and I don't care how many zombies or idiots with trigger-happy fingers there are. They can't hurt me. They don't matter anymore. Dad loves me. He risked his life to find me. Everything will be all right now. Dad will save me. He'll save us all. He's a bloody hero!
