Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,109

behind us.

Janet has grabbed Imani’s longer base of the mic stand and flipped it sideways in both of her hands, holding the pole with the grip of a weightlifter, high on her chest, crosswise to her body.

She yells and digs with the balls of her feet, like a sprinter when the starting pistol fires, and runs into the line of zombies trying to get into the elevator, pressing the bar of the mic base into their arms, then spinning and sweeping it down, pivoting, knocking a zombie back with the sweep of the mic base, knocking the welder zombie aside with the impact of her own back, and then she throws herself at the third zombie, the woman.

“No!” I sob.

But it works.

The zombie arms are clear of the elevator doors for a split second.

I jab the door-close button, and try not to see the determined grimace on Janet’s face when the zombies grab her. When the woman zombie bites.

“Janet.” My voice is shivering with tears. “Janet!”

The doors, unimpeded, start to close.

Janet keeps her eyes squeezed tight, then I can’t see her anymore as zombies cover her, as they—

“Dammit!” Cuellar shouts.

The welder zombie pushes forward again, trying to get to us. As he reaches the closing door, his lunge into it knocks the welder’s visor closed over his face.

The elevator starts to protest, pinging and bonging. An automated voice sounds.

“Please clear the doors.”

Then repeats the instruction in Spanish.

“Jesus! Close the doors!” Scott yells to the ceiling, like the elevator voice is an AI of some sort, and can hear him.

It’d be funny if I wasn’t hoping it might somehow work.

Hunter and Simon put their palms flat on our side of the doors, straining without a handhold, trying to slide the doors shut, quicker, faster, and in spite of the fact that the huge welder zombie is now filling the closing gap.

I’m sobbing, tears streaming down my face for Janet, and out of anger; she didn’t deserve this, none of us deserve this, and we have to stop it, we have to stop it!

But all I can do is keep jabbing the door-close button.

Something must be working, maybe the button abuse, maybe Hunter and Simon straining against the doors, trying to keep them from opening, because even though the welder zombie has pressed a snatching arm and a bit of his shoulder and head through the gap, and even though he’s pressing against the automatic emergency-open bar, the doors don’t open.

They can’t close, but they don’t open.

And the welder zombie’s bulk is sufficient to close up the gap so no other zombies can reach us.

Cuellar tries to stab him with the legs of his stool, but it doesn’t seem to affect the zombie and his face is now protected by the welding mask.

Annie and Scott stumble back from the swipes of his muscular arm.

Blair tries to follow, but the welder’s thick fingers tangle in her hair.

Scott cringes against the farthest wall. Annie steps forward, one hand lifting from the red case.

Blair lets out a yelp as the zombie hand yanks.

The zombie’s face and body are trapped in the door, but his hand pulls inexorably back.

Even though his mouth is covered by the welder’s mask, with enough force he could yank her out.

I lift the mic arm and jab his neck, his throat, and it doesn’t change a thing. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t totter, doesn’t seem to be affected at all.

So, I attack his arm instead. I break his finger, dislocate his thumb, and tear at her hair.

Blair yelps and strains, ripping her own hair even more to get loose.

We fall down, leaving hanks of hair in his grip, but she’s free.

We scrabble like crabs, backward, up against the opposite wall.

The welder zombie still strains toward us, faceless and huge, and the doors start to open again.

“Excuse me, please.” Annie’s voice is airy and just