Free Better Lucky than Good (Records of the Resistance) by Shaun Meehan

entrance of the room, taking Clay's tomahawk with him and having it remain in his brow. Clay pushed the door fully open, attempting to step out of the room as he had planned. However, in stepping back to allow Mel a shot, his heel had caught on the body of the fallen infected, causing him to tumble backwards onto the floor.

    A second infected rushed through the door after Clay, who also tripped over the freshly fallen corpse. His trajectory placing him directly on top of Clay.

    "CLAY!" Mel shouted in a panic.

    A third infected stepped into the doorway in an attempt to also reach Clay. Melanie knew that this was her chance. Watching Clay fall backwards reminded her of his words about maintaining her focus on the living. A brief moment of hesitation was all that had kept her from shooting the man who was now on top of Clay, and she was not about to let that happen again.

    As the infected, who had been a woman prior to the outbreak, stepped into the lit doorway, Melanie brought the rifle to bear on her; resting the scope's crosshairs just above her nose. Melanie squeezed her hand into a fist, putting even pressure on the trigger. She didn't hear the rifle go off, but saw the woman drop where she stood in the doorway. Without thinking, Mel stood and began briskly walking down the aisle towards Clay, who was currently struggling with the man on top of him. As she moved, she kept her rifle shouldered and her eye through the sight, just as she had seen Clay do with his shotgun. Mel did her best to hold the crosshairs where she anticipated the man's head would be if Clay managed to push his attacker's upper body upright.

    "Push his head up, Clay!" she shouted.

    Clay was pushing his palm into the man's upper chest, trying to generate some space between himself and the undead whose breath Clay could feel on his face. The infected had a strong grip on Clay's Shirt. With every grunt and snarl the man let out, Clay would respond to by driving his elbow across his jaw in an attempt to break his grip. After a couple of elbows to the infected man's face, Clay managed to hit him hard enough to separate himself. His attacker's nose collapsed and blood poured down onto Clay's face and chest. Clay pushed the man hard and managed to bring his knee up to his chest, placing his foot into his opponent's stomach. Clay extended his leg, forcing the infected to its feet.  

    Melanie had been waiting and with a quick squeeze, the rifle's action cycled. The bullet hit home and the man fell to his knees, then face down on top of Clay.

    "Clay! Clay? Are you alright?" Melanie said as she approached him, still maintaining the crosshairs on the door way should additional undead amble through.

    Clay rolled the dead man off of him and sat up.  

    "I'm good" he said, as he wiped his bloodied face with his forearm.

    Melanie reached down to him, offering her hand in assistance. Clay looked up at her and laughed to himself.  

    "What's funny about this?" Melanie asked incredulously, while helping Clay to his feet.

    "Nothing. I'm just really glad you had it in you!" he said.

    Mel punched him in the arm.

    "I told you that was a bad idea." she said scoldingly.  

    "In retrospect, I would say that it wasn't a good idea. But I wouldn't say that it was a bad one..." he replied sarcastically.

    "So now what?" he asked. "I'm covered in that one's blood. Am I going to end up like one of them?"

    "No. It doesn't work like that. It started kinda like a flu outbreak... That's how it spread so quickly and to so many people. You can't catch it from them anymore." Melanie explained.

    Clay bent over, reaching down to his tomahawk while releasing a groan indicating how sore he was from his fall.

    "Good. I don't want you to shoot me in the head." Clay jested, as he tore his tomahawk free from the dead infected's skull.

    "Can we get some sleep now?" Melanie asked.

    "Yep... Sleep is definitely what I need right now. Clay replied, stretching slightly in an attempt to