open, forgetting the pipe that she had picked up at the park.
Water from the damaged fire hydrant rained down on her and she looked around, staggering slightly. For a moment, almost unconsciously, she used the water raining down upon her to clean off her face with her hands.
Reality came crashing back when she saw a man stop in the street, stare at her for a moment, and then come running.
She ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could.
She reached back for the wrench only to remember seconds later that it must be back in the car along with the pipe. She was without weapons.
Then she realized that she was on her street and she smiled.
Up ahead, only two blocks away, was her house. She and Max had lived together for the last two years of high-school. Her father had died when she was just sixteen and Max had graduated two years earlier than her. When school was over, they'd taken the trip to Florida and merely sealed the deal with marriage. The house had been left to her by her father.
There were more of them behind her now. She could hear them. She had escaped one mob only to find herself chased by another. Would this nightmare ever end?
And then she was home.
The front door was unlocked.
She was quickly inside, locked turned the deadbolt and backed into the house.
They were banging on the door a second later.
Max had to be here. The car was in the driveway. He was a zombie fanatic. He had a fallout shelter/zombie survival den in the basement for Pete's sake, whoever the fuck Pete was.
She smiled. "Basement." She also looked over where he kept his hunting rifles. Two of them were missing. That left one. A twelve gauge that his grandfather had left him. He never used it.
She checked the drawer at the bottom. There was a box with two shells left. He'd taken all of the rest.
Probably took all he could carry in one trip as he ran for the basement.
The front door cracked and then broke inward partially. She knew they'd be through in minutes.
She walked around the corner towards the basement door.
There was a key, but he hadn't locked it. She guessed that he didn't think zombies would be smart enough to turn the big handle. It was a pretty secure door after all.
She started down the stairs as the front door crashed inward.
She could hear the frenzied footfalls upstairs.
She gripped the rifle with both hands, cocked it and knocked on the door at the bottom.
"Who is it?" Max asked and the cowardly tone to his voice only caused her smile to widen further.
"Who do you think it is, jackass?"
"Naomi?!" he exclaimed, and she could hear him run frantically across the room, and fumble with the locks, finally throwing them open after a few seconds.
She readied the rifle.
He threw open the door.
She struck him with the butt of the gun, knocking him to the ground. When he was down, she hit him one more time to make sure he was out.
What an idiot, she thought, and though it was somewhat satisfying she still wanted to cry. She wanted to be sick. This was the man that she had planned to spend the rest of her life with? How had he fooled her so completely?