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they have to do is push it hard enough. He hears the door slide over the ridges of worn carpeting.
    The boy knows he doesn’t have much time. He eases off the mattress on the side furthest from the door. He lifts the comforter wanting to crawl under the bed. His plan is foiled due to all the stuff stored underneath.
    The door rubs along the rug as it opens a few more inches. Derek starts to pull out packages wrapped in red and green paper; all bear his name on little festive tags. He moves aside his Christmas gifts and wiggles his body into the tight space. The door jolts again swinging wide open. Derek hears it strike his mom’s dresser. He stifles a groan as he squeezes his body in trying to make room for his legs.
    The sound of moaning fills the room accompanied by heavy awkward steps. Feet shuffle along the yellow carpet. Derek is on his stomach facing the foot of the bed. He shifts the remaining presents aside so he can see.
    Feet aimlessly pace the room. They absently kick the discarded boxes in their search of the meal they had heard. He watches one travel to the side of the bed he had crawled under. Derek compacts his body the best he can, trying to get in the exact middle. His mom’s unused rowing machine prevents him from performing this task perfectly. He can’t push it out more. The thing is too heavy and it has rubber feet on the bottom designed to prevent such an action. He resolves to cram himself against it as much as he possible. The hefty boy wriggles his body into the nooks and crannies of the machine until his shoulder is painfully pinned between metal and wood.
    Stevie and Becka look down through the new hole. They witnessed their friend disappear under his mom’s bed. They dare not shout down, now that the dead surround him. They watch helplessly as the things travel in pointless circles. All the two above can do is watch and hope.
    Watch and hope is all Derek can do as well. He sees them moving around the room noting that some of them are barefoot, some are in slippers, and one appears to be wearing combat boots.
    Dust bunnies attack the boy, disturbed by his presence. He must fight off a sneeze. His eyes water to the point of blindness. He has to pinch his nose to avoid letting it out.
    Above Derek, Becka starts to cry softly. She is worried about him, He’s down there alone, with those monsters and we can’t help him. Stevie thinks he has a plan. He moves to the hatch they had entered and opens it. The skinny boy lowers his head down into the hall.
    “ Hey!” He screams. “You undead douche bags! Come and get me!”
    Derek can hear Stevie yelling. Is he in the hall? He wonders. The feet are now heading towards the door.
    “ You smelly fucks!” He can hear. “Yeah, I’m talking to you.”
    Derek slowly pulls his body out from between the rowing machine and the bed frame. His circulation returns slowly with the sensation of pins and needles. He creeps out from under the bed and looks over the top towards the door. He can see the zombies in the hall looking up at the hatch.
    “ So, what are the prerequisites of becoming a zombie? Prove that you are as dumb as you are ugly, and that you can smell like shit?” Stevie continues his barrage.
    Looking up Derek meets Becka’s eyes. She extends her hand down as far as she can. The boy carefully steps onto the mattress his arm reaches to her. Their fingertips barely touch. He has to hop, making small bounces at first until he builds momentum trying not to make too much noise in the process.
    Derek and Becka finally clasp hands. The girl struggles to raise her portly pal. She has to grab onto a floor beam buried under the insulation to prevent being pulled down. She manages to levitate him a few feet, but can’t get him any higher. Derek is starting to slip away from her.
    He scrambles to climb up her arm, but his sweaty palms cannot find traction on her smooth skin. He falls, landing on his feet. They sink deeply into the air springs. One of the