Free Blood of the Dead: A Zombie Novel (Undead World Trilogy, Book One) by A.P. Fuchs

floor.
    “There, that was easy,” Des said, chuckling.
    Sqweesqweesqweesqweesqweesqweesqweesqweesqwee . . .
    A horde of rats scurried into view of the door.
    Billie shrieked and ran over to him.
    For a split second he debated the two of them getting up on the bed, but a lot of good that would do them. The rats would jump up anyway and . . .
    The rats dove into the air and came at them like a swarm of bees.
    “Come on!” Des grabbed her by the hand. He waved the bar in front of him like a windshield wiper, knocking the rats away each time some jumped up and tried to take a piece out of his face.
    Billie crashed into him, jumping and skipping as they ran down the hallway to the door.
    Des grabbed the doorknob and pulled. The door didn’t open.
    “It’s locked, you idiot!” Billie shouted.
    What’re you giving me — No time! He unlocked the chain, the deadbolts and ran out with her in tow and slammed the door behind them.
    Thudthudthunkthunkthudthudthunk. The rats plowed into the door.
    Breathing hard, he was about to put his head between his knees when Billie took him by the hand and pulled him down the hallway and up the stairs. The two worked frantically to unchain and unlock the front door of the building and then headed outside.
    They finally stopped to catch their breath once they reached the sidewalk.
    “Did you see that?” he said, glancing toward the building.
    “Yeah. I can’t . . . believe . . . they just . . .” She took another deep breath.
    “What now?” he said.
    “We’ll go to my place. Let’s just get inside and we’ll talk there.”
    “Good idea.” He grinned. Des Nottingham: Rat Wrangler.
    “Let’s go.”
    The two walked briskly down the sidewalk, each glancing over their shoulder every few seconds to see if the rats escaped and they were being followed.
    The sidewalk remained bare for most of the walk home.
    Until a shadow lurked in the distance.
    It was coming toward them.
     
     
    6
    Mr. Shank
     
    Billie stopped walking and grabbed Des’s arm. “You see that?”
    Des squinted, eyes forward. “Yeah.”
    “Do you think—?”
    “Maybe.”
    “We can’t turn around either.” She looked over her shoulder, checking for the rats. There were none. However, though she couldn’t be sure, she thought she might have heard a soft thudding on the air, possibly the rats having escaped Des’s apartment and now banging on the entrance door.
    “Can’t see anything. He’s too dark, too far away. Let’s cross to the other side. That way, if it is one of them, we should have a bit of an edge, some distance, and can run,” Des said.
    “Okay.”
    The two crossed the street, neither one taking their eyes off the shadowy figure on the sidewalk. They walked cautiously along the sidewalk, eyeing the dark figure across the way. It kept walking down the sidewalk, slowly. There was still a chance it was someone out for a late-night stroll but not likely.
    They kept a steady pace, neither speaking but both thinking the same thing: get ready to run in case it was one of the dead.
    As the figure across the way drew closer and came into clearer view, Billie asked, pointing, “It’s an old guy. Do you know him?”
    Des surveyed the old fella before answering. “I think so.” He leaned his head forward on his shoulders, as if the few inches gained from doing so made it easier to see. “Hey, it’s Mr. Shank.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Pretty sure.”
    A load of weight melted off Billie’s chest. “Oh, good. For a second there I thought we were in trouble.”
    “Well, even if it was one of them” —Des’s voice suddenly took on a more confident tone— “we’d still be okay, I think. Those things move slow, remember? We could have outrun it no problem.”
    “But the rats. Those guys were fast.”
    “But still rats. So far, none of the dead have exhibited any sort of speed. All walk as if they have dumbbells strapped to their ankles.”
    “I suppose.”
    They kept walking, hoping Mr. Shank would