Free Dove: A Zombie Tale (Byron: A Zombie Tale Book 2) by Scott Wieczorek Page B

hand.
    “Crap!”
    Thump!—Thump!—Bang!
    The door rattled against the frame. I slipped the cup through the hole, pushing it along the top of the lathe away from the opening. Stretching to my fullest extent, I grabbed the tops of the ceiling joists and pulled myself up, letting my legs dangle. Grunting, I dragged myself up, pulling my legs through just as the door below burst open and grayish-white bodies spilled through.
    I grabbed the cup of water and slid across the floor to Byron. Propping him up, I helped him sip.
    “What are we doing about those rats?” I asked him.
    “You’re going to have to get them,” he replied, his voice a papery croak. “I need to recover my strength.”
    “Great! Of course.”
    ~ ~ ~
    In theory, if I managed to close the bedroom door, it should buy some time from the oncoming horde, right? Except, of course, that Jake had blown a hole through the door with his shotgun. Not much help, there. Granted the buckshot left a grouping of tiny holes, but those holes weakened the door. My timing would have to be impeccable. Drop the stairs, kill the two or three Goners left in the room, grab the toolbox, and get the hell back up the ladder, closing it behind me.
    I took a deep breath and pried the sword through the ceiling to push the door shut, taking care not to put as much gusto into it this time. It swung shut with a whisper, the latch giving a soft click as it engaged.
    Chipping a small hole through the ceiling on the inside of the door, one of the Goners shuffled to the door, examining it with childlike curiosity. I brought the sword up and thrust it through the ceiling with all my strength, impaling the beast through the skull.
    “One down, two to go.” As I pulled the sword out, the creature fell forward, its weight falling against the door. Another one stepped over to investigate.
    “This is too easy,” I chuckled as I drove the sword through the ceiling again, impaling the second creature. It fell on top of its buddy.
    “Two down. One to go, Byron.” He gave me a weak smile. Light washed over him from the open roof panel above. On impulse, I wanted to kiss his lips.
    My face flushed and I shook my head, returning my attention to the folding stairway. Bracing my arms on either side of the opening, I pushed the trap door down with my legs, kicking the stair out as I did. It unfolded part way and I dropped through to the floor below. My feet thudded as they touched down and I folded into a crouch, holding the sword out before me.
    A groan sounded from my left and a hiss met my entrance from the right. Four. There were four creatures in here, not three.
    I leaped to the left, swinging for the neck with all my strength. The blade passed through most of the way, but stuck as it struck the spine.
    “Really!” I shouted as I kicked against the creature, trying to dislodge the sword. It stared at me, its arms outstretched, trying to grapple me. Something crashed into my back, shoving me forward and forcing the sword from my hands.
    “Son of a—” I tumbled to the floor, landing face-first. “Oh hell no. I did not just get through the church from hell to die in a Philly row house!”
    I rolled to the side, stretching to grab the sword, but the Goner’s neck held it tight. The creature who barreled into me stood over me, reaching down to grab me. I kicked my leg up, grabbed its arms, and threw it into the other zombie.
    Rolling to my feet, I lunged for the bed and the floor lamp standing beside it. The Goners were tight on my heels. I spun with the lamp, ripping the cord from the wall and smashing one across the jaw, breaking it off. The lower mandible fell to the ground with a sick thup. Fear filled the creature’s eyes as it reached for its face. I kicked it hard in the chest and jabbed the bulb end of the lamp at the other beast.
    The first one fell backward, splaying across the floor while the bulb smashed against the other’s face, piercing the eye socket and driving into its