the cart, and I’m scrabbling over the top of the armrest, pulling and kicking into the empty air under the jutting armrest, like a swimmer struggling to boost out of a deep pool.
I get my stomach on the armrest and hook a leg up and then over.
“Good girl,” Janet says, patting my shoulder.
The clang sounds again, and I look back down to Linus just in time to see him fall backward on the escalator steps, as the zombie falls on top of him.
“Linus!” I shout.
Simon glances over, but he has to look back at the fast zombie he’s fighting. Simon flips the vanity stool around, shifting his grip to the circle of the seat. Using the feet of the vanity stool like a lion tamer uses the legs of a chair, Simon rushes at the zombie and boosts him up and over the escalator edge.
The zombie falls, landing on top of the others that Linus and Simon threw down while we were climbing.
I don’t watch to see if the zombie at the bottom gets up; my eyes are drawn back to Linus.
He’s beneath the zombie, but somehow crouched between the metal steps and the zombie’s bulk. The zombie’s head snaps around, unable to reach Linus.
“Hey!” I call to the zombie. “Hey, zombie guy! Nom nom!”
The zombie looks up at me.
“That’s right, look at this tasty goodness!” I stretch my arm out. “Nom nom!”
“Cut it out!” Annie hisses. “Stop calling to it!”
“I’m trying to help your boyfriend!” I hiss back, and don’t hear if she responds because it’s working, the last zombie on Linus has opened his mouth and is crawling forward, up over the metal steps, over Linus, who lies motionless beneath him.
Simon rushes up behind the zombie, grabbing Linus by the hand and pulling him up.
Linus stands, looking dazed.
The zombie man claws at the barricade, bloody, discolored hands grasping at the potted plant, the spiky palm, pulling, tugging, without thought.
The sofa I’m draped across sways.
“Get down!” I order Janet.
She looks like she’s going to argue for an instant, then she nods and shimmies down fast.
I’m going to have to follow her or try to find a longer weapon. There’s no way my mic arm will reach. I could throw it? Maybe there’s something else I could throw.
I look around—what’s within reach?
An accent pillow on the sofa has been smooshed into the crease at the back.
I grab it and hurl it at the zombie’s head.
It bonks off his head like a marshmallow.
It’s a pillow.
What the hell was I thinking?
Something brushes my elbow, tickling like spiders walking on my bare skin.
I twitch away and glance down.
The strings of a mop brush against my elbow. Standing at the bottom of the barricade, Janet holds the handle, boosting the weapon up to me.
I grab the strings, lift it up, and shove it, mop end down, into the zombie’s face.
He swipes at the mop strings covering his eyes. I lift the mop back up before he can get a grip on it.
He’s a big guy. Tall.
His center of gravity is several inches higher than the escalator’s handrail.
I push the strings into the zombie’s face again, then dangle them.
The zombie swipes again, a wild swing of his arms at the obstruction.
But I’m too fast, I pop the mop back, then shove it in again.
This time I tilt the strings in front of his eyes, and to the side slightly, causing him to twist on the stair, ever so slightly.
The zombie lets out a grunt and throws his arm wide, an uncontrolled arc.
Simon yells and swings the vanity stool like a baseball bat, connecting with the back of the zombie’s head.
The huge zombie tilts, then falls over the handrail like a sack of cement potatoes.
Behind Simon, Linus winces as he looks up at