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more of a yelp, but it was high pitched and very unmanly. And I so didn’t give a fuck who heard me. I yanked my foot free and looked down to see the first soldier reaching for my foot again. I backed up and watched in horror as he slowly climbed to his feet. My body injected adrenaline into my blood in prodigious quantities, and I made the coin flip in my head: fight or run. Oddly enough, fight won, and my left hand came up. The Beretta barked twice in my hand and the guy went down. Behind him, I could see his buddy getting to his feet as well. Some part of me wanted to stare in slack jawed disbelief, but my forebrain was telling me to look for the strings or the man behind the curtain or whatever was making it happen later .
    The first guy started getting back to his feet. Ballistic vest, I thought, and pointed the gun at his face. The gun bucked on my hand and he fell back again. Then I raised my aim to his buddy. My hand was shaking too badly to be sure of the shot, and he kept moving around as he came toward me. I put a round center mass to knock him down, then ran up to him and put a round through his head to be sure. Five rounds.
    Pale light hit the area, and I could see the rest of the prone figures around me start moving.
    “Oh, fuck,” I whispered as I realized how deeply screwed I was. Never mind the horde at the school, I had a double dozen infected right here ! The guy from the other side of the Humvee lumbered into view, and I brought the pistol up. Luck was with me and the round disintegrated the left side of his face. Six.
    The headlights from Porsche’s truck got closer as the dead infected started getting back to their feet. These people had already been shot several times each, but the head shot guardsmen seemed to be staying down. I missed the first shot at the forehead of the guy in scrubs closest to me, but the second round took the top of his head off. Seven, eight. An older man in a blood drenched smock lurched to his feet off to my left, and a woman in scrubs made it to her knees on my right. Shooting to my weak side first, I managed to hit the woman in the forehead but I missed the guy in the smock the first and second time. The third round hit his left eye and he went down. Nine, ten, eleven. Another man got to his feet right in front of me, silhouetted against Porshe’s headlights for a split second before she introduced his ass to her truck’s front grill. He went flying past me as she skidded to a stop beside me. I took a second to thin the odds by two more before I jumped in the bed of the truck. Twelve, thirteen. More of the infected were streaming across the parking lot.
    The little window in the back glass slid open as she pulled away. “Are you okay?” she yelled over the wind and engine noise. Behind us, I could see the crowd of infected turning to follow us.
    “I’m fine!” I called back as I dropped the magazine out of the Beretta and fished in my cargo pocket for a fresh one. “My boxers are ruined, though. Stay on Jefferson as far as you can, but don’t go too fast. The important part of Plan A is working.” The new mag slid home and I reset the count in my head. I grabbed the nearly empty magazine from my lap and stuck it in the left side cargo pocket.
    “Plan B seemed to go the way you called it!” she said with a nervous laugh.
    “Heard that, did you?”
    “Oh, yeah. You sounded just like my niece. Except for the shooting.” She kept the truck going slow enough that the infected could keep us in sight and follow us. They were surprisingly fast for brain damaged cannibals. They kept up with us as we entered the residential area behind the school and rounded the first curve. It bent to the left, then back to the right, and they followed us through them without losing pace. When we reached the intersection for Walnut Lawn, it looked clear. The stop light was blinking red, but the road was empty. Behind us, the infected weren’t showing any signs of slowing down, so I