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face impacted with the surface of the roof. As the remaining
five zombies shambled closer, Jake dodged around their far side and
sprinted for the stairwell door. Upon reaching the darkened
entryway, he quickly shut the metal plate, yanked his K-Bar from
the sheath on his vest, wedged it sideways between the frame and
the door to prevent it opening from the inside, and spun back to
face the oncoming dead.
    They were close. None of the quintet
were able to run. None of the creatures the survivors had
encountered so far possessed enough coordination to do so. They
were walking pretty damn fast, though. Jake barely had time to set
himself before the first grabbed for him. Spinning to one side, he
did a full three-sixty and bashed the thing in its brain-holder as
it stumbled by. He felt more than heard the back of the zombie's
skull give as the tool's rounded end crushed the rear of its
flaking head. There wasn't time for him to appreciate the way it
lost some teeth hitting the door nose-first before falling truly
dead to the rooftop however, because the other four were on him.
They were literally unable to feel fear or pain, so Jake was
hard-pressed to stay out of their reach. He shoved one hard and
sent it reeling to fall backwards onto its dead ass, but the other
three were right there. The first of the trio caught the point of
his crowbar in the throat.
    Jake's thrust caused his weapon to penetrate
the zombie's spinal column where it lodged fast, effectively
trapping both zombie and crowbar in place. While the thing could
paw at him, it was unable to move further down the steel into
biting range. Holding the pinned creature at arm's length, Jake
lunged forward, took a firm grip on the second one's throat, and
used it to hold back the third. Thankfully his hard-knuckled Nomex
tactical gloves, and a pair of Damascus FA30 Flex Force forearm
guards he'd taken to wearing, after coming close to becoming zombie
kibble in a back alley of Columbus, provided the writer some fairly
durable protection. This prevented the second and third zombies
from clawing into his arm as he continued to fend off their clumsy
attacks, but Jake knew he wouldn't be able keep up his defense for
long.
    The ghoul impaled on his crowbar was still
grasping at him, the other two were determined to outdo each other
in their attempts to latch their snapping jaws into him somehow,
and the one he'd toppled was already getting to its shredded feet.
Jake yanked the zombie stuck on his crowbar around and knocked the
half-vertical one back to the rooftop. He continued to struggle
with the other three and saw the prone creature rise once
again.
    “Shit!” He used its impaled companion to
knock the thing head-over-heels again, but it didn't take long for
the rotten corpse to gain its feet once more.
    Jake knew he was in trouble. While not
supernaturally strong, the creatures didn't care about taking
damage. They wouldn't feel broken bones or bruised tissue. They
didn't need to breathe, and Jake was panting from the exertion now,
trying to get oxygen into his system as lactic acid began building
up in the muscles of his shaking arms. The zombies were putting up
a damn good fight. He could feel panic begin to clench in his guts
as the previously flattened creature drew closer and the sound of
their snapping jaws sent chills up his spine. Jake ground his teeth
together as he wracked his brain for some way to get clear of the
dead, if only for a moment or two. If he could just get a good
breath, get a little room to work with.
    That was when the ghoul he'd been knocking to
the ground latched onto Jake's wrist with both hands and bit his
arm.
    The zombie's teeth failed to penetrate the
riot armor encasing Jake's forearm, which is what saved his life,
and one of the things incisors snapped off against the thick plate
to spin through the air like a gore-incrusted Chiclet.
    “You grungy shit-bag!” Fuming, he released
his crowbar and slammed a hard-knuckled fist into the