Because if we fall back, what do we fall back to? Just barricades that will be overrun or doors that will give way against the onslaught of the horde.
And we have to stop them. We have to. They can’t be released into the world. Into Senoybia. Into our sleepy little Saturday downtown, they just can’t.
I nod at Janet, and spin on my heel, darting behind the line of zombie defenders, real life imitating reel life. Who is better suited to survive the zombie apocalypse than those who’ve done it before?
Even if it was only make-believe.
I sprint around the corner and along the wall and start mercilessly jabbing the elevator button.
Without thinking, I’ve just picked a direction; I’ve picked up.
Up up up.
Up and away.
I don’t look over my shoulder. Why would I? It’s just a matter of time now. Which will arrive first . . . the killing of zombies or the elevator?
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” Imani chants next to me, watching the doors like she could summon the elevator with her mind if she just focused hard enough.
Siggy stops on my other side.
I dart a glance behind. The others have followed me: Blair and Scott standing right behind Imani and Siggy, with Annie behind them, still clutching the bright-red case to her chest.
Between us and the zombies, standing in a loose semicircle of defense, are the actors, Simon, Cuellar, Hunter, and Janet. Swinging and shoving with their weapons, pushing the zombies back as best they can, holding out for just moments, just moments.
We only need moments.
The elevator door dings.
The stainless-steel doors part, revealing a single zombie man, turning to stare at the door with blood-fogged eyes.
“Oh, for f—,” I curse, and continue cursing a blue streak as I lunge forward into the elevator, mic arm raised.
Imani jumps in beside me, and holds the doors open for the others.
Siggy follows me with her pointy plank.
Together we stab and jab the zombie, over and over, until he falls.
I’m grunting as I jab. Siggy’s making her “ew, ew, ew” energy-up noises as she jabs.
The zombie falls dead, and we shove him back against the back wall of the elevator.
I spin to the control panel.
“Come on!” I yell to the others. They fall back, still fighting, into the steel-framed cube.
“Go, go, go!” Imani yells.
I jab the third-floor button, then the door-close button.
It is the door-close button, right? I get confused by those drawings, sometimes.
I glance down and confirm, yes, it’s the door-close button.
The button makes a rapid clicking noise as I press it frantically.
The doors start to close, and our line of four defenders pull their weapons in.
But then a zombie pushes into the closing doors, triggering the safety bar.
The doors start to open again.
“Dammit!” Cuellar yells. He pushes the ax head out, into the zombie, pushing him back.
I jabjabjab the door-close button.
The doors start to close again.
But the same problem happens again on Hunter’s side, a woman zombie reaches an arm through, triggering the doors to open again.
I glance over the heads of the fighters defending the breach and the zombies trying to reach us in the elevator, to see the rest of the horde advancing. Soon they’ll be too many. Soon we won’t be able to hold them back. The sheer weight of the zombies in the back will push the front row forward, first onto our weapons, then into us.
“I know what to do,” Janet pants, turning to look at me as the others push and shove.
Her bright eyes are determined.
“Make sure you stop them. This stops here, with you.”
“No! Wait!” I yell, but it’s too late.
“Move!” Janet yells, and she pulls Hunter’s shoulder back roughly. He stumbles and falls into me. I catch him, but the wind is knocked out of me as we careen into the wall