Romero and Jeremy found themselves standing back to back. Romero swung at zombies that hovered just out of reach and Jeremy kept them at bay by firing his flares. Romero pointed toward an opening in the zombie horde.
“We can make it! If we run to my house, I have food, a generator and a secure room to wait for rescue!” Dr. Romero pleaded.
Without another word in discussion, the two started running down the dusty dirt road, leaving a wall of disgruntled zombies behind. Jeremy fired another round back at them to deter the monsters from following.
“Okay, let’s go!”
They ran down the dusty road and passed a large, rickety looking wooden shed just off the trail. It had a couple of dark windows facing out toward the road. A power cable connected to the roof drooped limply in the air toward its makeshift hydro pole, supplying the building with electricity.
“What’s that?” Jeremy asked.
“That’s the utility shed,” Dr. Romero explained.
Jeremy paused, eyes squinting, in thought. Romero looked at him in disbelief.
“What do they store in there?” he asked.
“STUFF! Generators, pool chemicals, gasoline, research supplies, why?!?” Romero was exasperated.
Jeremy held his gun up, eyes squinting, looking like an action movie hero.
“Find somewhere to hide…I have an idea.”
Jeremy changed direction, running toward the approaching undead, waving his arms and gyrating around in circles on the dusty road, taunting and teasing the monsters that were slowly catching up. His display had worked, catching the attention of the zombies and spurring their hunger. The shed stood in the background with the front door open.
“C’mon you smelly fuckers! Come bite my ass!” Jeremy shouted.
Jeremy ran into the open utility shed. He looked around at the bags of chlorine and other chemicals and large gas jugs. Soon zombies were angrily approaching, following him and pushing through the narrow doorway and into the shed.
Jeremy kicked over a large gas jug, spilling it over with a ploosh as angry zombies started pouring into the small room.
Jeremy slid open one of the nearby windows as the zombies stretched their parched and withered fingers toward him, angry and tripping over each other, trying to be the first to gorge themselves on his flesh.
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