Doyle? she queried tentatively.
Warmth rushed through her mind, its force so strong it knocked her several steps backward.
Kirby? What in hell are you doing here? There was both relief and anger in his mind voice. He obviously didn't want her here—or at least, didn't want her in the line of danger.
And that annoyed the hell out of her. Ftt turn around and damn well leave, if you prefer.
No! He hesitated, and his sigh shimmered though her, a breeze so cool when compared to the heat of his mind's touch. JVo. I'm sorry. Its just that this tank has been spelled. It might be safer to call Camille in. Camille's busy, so you're stuck with me. Now, where are you?
In an unused water tank of some kind. There's apparently a big rock sitting on it, if that's any help.
Her gaze swept the small clearing. No tanks this side of the house, or anywhere near what she could see of the big old shed behind the house. He had to be on the other side, then.
Have you heard anything moving about?
No. The only sounds I've heard are noisy bugs and the occasional bird. That doesn't mean there isn't something here, though. Our murderous friend is not one to leave things to chance.
An understatement if ever there was one. She approached the house cautiously, trying to hear beyond the high-pitched call of the cicadas. A chill crept across her skin, and for an instant, her vision blurred. The world seemed to spin briefly, and she had to thrust a hand against the side of the house to remain upright. The dizziness eased, but her throat felt as rough as sandpaper, and no amount of swallowing seemed to help. She swiped at the sweat dripping down her forehead, and wondered if she was coming down with something. You okay? Concern shimmered down the link between them. She nodded, then remembered he couldn't see her. Fmjust a little lightheaded. Lack of food, probably. I'll be there in a sec. Just be careful. The cicadas have gone quiet.
She looked around. The sudden hush felt almost threatening. Another chill chased across her skin, and this time it was more fear than anything else. I'm okay. I can protect myself, you know. But she wondered who she was trying to convince—him or herself.
She pushed away from the wall and headed past the front of the house. Three tanks came into sight, one close to the house, and two others near the shed. The one furthermost from the house had a large rock perched on one end. Found you, she said as the turned the corner, only to come nose to stomach with the second biggest dead guy she'd ever seen.
Twelve
Her scream froze somewhere in her throat, and for instant, all she could do was stand there and stare up at him. He was monstrous. Not as big as the zombie that had attacked Doyle, but damn close.
Fear shot through her—not hers. Doyle's. Kirby, run!
His mental shout unlocked her limbs. But before she could react, the zombie threw a punch, his fist smashing into her jaw. It lifted her off the ground and knocked her back several feet. She hit the ground hard, and her breath whooshed out, leaving her gasping. Blinking back tears, battling to breathe, she looked up to see the zombie launch at her.
She yelped and rolled away. The zombie hit where she'd been only seconds before, and the ground literally shook. It screamed in frustration and lashed out again, fingers clawing the air inches from her face. She scrambled further away and called to the fire. It burned through her body, flashing jaggedly across her fingertips before she launched it toward the zombie. Pain surged through her mind, and again her vision blurred. Suddenly there were two zombies burning up in front of her. Two pairs of fire smothered hands reaching for her.
She kicked wildly at the hands, battering them away, then scrambled backwards once more, trying to keep out of its reach. The stench of burning flesh reached her, and her already churning stomach rebelled again. She threw up in the grass, and felt like she was going to die. The madman in her head had obviously found some friends to help him, and the pounding was mixed with a weird buzzing that hurt so badly she could barely see.
Kirby! Damn it, answer me. Doyle's mind voice seemed hollow, like it was coming from a million miles away.
She looked up, barely able to make out the water tank that trapped him. She felt so weak her whole body was shaking. She couldn't walk up there. She didn't have the strength to even stand right now.
Move to the back of the tank.
There is no back. It's round. For God's sake, tell me what's wrong.
I don't know. She blinked, but it didn't seem to help her blurry vision. Can you see the rock at all?
I can see the hatch it's sitting on.
Face it, then move to your left. The buzzing was getting louder, becoming a tunnel of noise that was closing in around her. Quickly.
She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then she reached for the fire again. It burned through her, almost wild and uncontrolled. She clenched her fists, somehow restraining it, and opened her eyes. The water tank had become three white blobs dancing erratically on the hill above her. She blinked again, and the three became one, a blob of white surrounded by a darkness that was quickly closing in on her. She launched the pent-up energy, then the darkness encased her, and she
knew no more.
***
The side of the tank exploded inwards, showering Doyle with chunks of rocks. Concrete dust billowed, filling the small tank with a choking cloud that made it difficult to breathe. Coughing, he battered away the worst of the missiles and shifted shape, diving through the hole Kirby had created. It was a tight squeeze, even in his panther shape. He pushed through, skinning his shoulders against the jagged sides of the hole, then ran down the slope to the house.
Smoke trailed skyward, and the smell of burning flesh stung the air. But the zombie was still alive, pulling its burning body along the ground, reaching with blackened claws toward Kirby. She wasn't moving, wasn't protecting herself in anyway.