Dead Sea

    Mitch stayed cool. He raised his pistol with both hands. Keeping his feet spread apart at shoulder-width, he opened fire, squeezing off six shots. Each one was true, and six zombies fell to the pavement. Tasha screamed as one of the corpses lunged for her, but then she raised her pistol and fired. The handgun jerked upward, and the bullet missed. She fired again, blowing a hole in the creature's shoulder. The zombie reached for her and 1 slammed it in the jaw with the butt of my rifle. It toppled backward, sprawling on the ground. Tasha stepped forward and shot it in the head at point-blank range. The corpse's hair caught on fire. Blood and brains and skull fragments splattered upward. Tasha gagged.

    "Good girl," I said softly. "You didn't get any blood in your mouth or eyes, did you?"

    "No," she answered. Then she leaned over and threw up on her shoes.

    Malik, meanwhile, clutched his grenade in one hand and darted back and forth in front of us, dodging zombies and staying out of Mitch's line of fire. The boy seemed excited. Frantic, even, but he showed no fear. Despite everything, 1 smiled.

    "There are more of them inside," Malik shouted. "Too many for you guys to shoot."

    "Lamar!" Mitch called as he changed magazines. "Don't just stand there. Shoot the fuckers!"

    I grabbed Tasha's arm. "Are you okay?"

    "No," she said, shaking me off and raising her pistol again. "I'm wet, I'm cold, I smell like smoke, and I just threw up all over my shoes."

    My reply was drowned out as she squeezed the trigger again. It didn't matter if she was fine or not- she was okay enough to start shooting again. That was good enough for me. Turning, I set the rifle's stock against my shoulder, closed one eye and sighted through the scope, picking a female zombie with a ragged bite wound on her cheek as my target. I pulled the trigger. The rifle's stock slammed against my body, making my arm go numb. Watching through the scope, I saw the creature's head explode in magnified color. Grinning, I picked another target and did the same. Then another and another. My shoulder ached, but it was a good pain. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I felt more confident than before. With the scope, I was a much better shot. Then, the fifth time I squeezed the trigger, nothing happened. Remembering that Mitch had said the rifle held four bullets, I cried out for more. At the same time, Tasha clicked empty, too.

    "Mitch," I yelled. "We need more ammo."

    More dead poured from the building and into the street, forcing us backward. A few of them moaned with hunger, but they were mostly silent. Some of them had decomposed so badly that there wasn't much left of them-just arms and legs and gaping, toothless mouths. Another large group of corpses appeared farther down the street. I recognized a few of them from the battle we'd witnessed earlier. Still more of the creatures exited the nightclub, drawn to the sounds of conflict.

    A man ran out into the street. I don't know where he came from, but we immediately knew he was one of us-alive-just from the way he was screaming. An undead rat hung from his face, tiny claws digging into his flesh, yellow incisors ripping at his cheek. Infecting him with the disease. Poor bastard was dead already. He just didn't know it.

    "Help me," he begged. His voice was slurred- reminded me of Alan. The rat dug deeper, shredding flesh. "Help me, please!"

    Mitch fired one shot, killing both the rat and its victim. When Mitch looked up again, his eyes widened at the number of zombies slowly homing in on us.

    "Mitch," I hollered again. "We need more bullets!"

    "No time," he said. "There's too many of these things. Let's get the hell out of here."

    Malik stepped forward. "Ya'll are forgetting something."

    He pulled the pin the way Mitch had shown him and tossed the grenade overhand. It soared over the creatures' heads and through the open garage door, disappearing deep inside the building.

    I froze. "Oh shit…"

    "Move!"

    Mitch shoved us forward, sprinting back toward the fence. Tasha and I started to follow him, but Malik refused to move. I don't even know if he heard us. His attention was focused on the machine shop. His eyes shone with anticipation, and he licked his lips. Just like any other boy his age, he wanted to see something blow up, and know that he'd done it. I'd been the same way as a kid, when we used to buy penny sticks and M-80s from the guy at the Korean grocer.

    I grabbed his arm and pulled. "Come on, Malik."

    "But I want to-"

    "Now!"