“My new shoes don’t fit.” She said. “I always wanted a pair of orange sneakers when I was a kid but my father wouldn’t let me have them and now that I found the–”

  He pressed his finger to his lips and crouched down in front of her. He slipped the shoe off of her foot and examined it.

  She sat up. “I had a good life, too. I had money and a man and toys. Everything a girl like me could ever ask for but then someone had to go off and—”

  “You have to untie them before you put them on.”

  He’d ignored the part about her having “toys” and slid the sneaker onto her foot like a glass slipper. She wiped the tears from her face and grinned behind beet-red cheeks; her eyes glimmered like silver dollars. He did the same for the other one and, this time, handed it to her.

  When she slipped them on, she paced back and forth like a runway model. Her cheeks beamed with an inner sense of happiness and light and a red-rimmed smile spread across her face.

  On what’d seem like the fifth pose, she lost her balance and toppled over. She reached out to him with her left hand, gave a tinny childish yelp and landed on his lap. She threw her arms around him, resting her hands along the tops of his shoulders and snickered.

  When their gazes met, he leaned back to stretch the space between their faces. His breathing became labored as his heart beat quickened; heat pressed down on the nape of his neck and his tongue felt dry. Her cheeks blushing, she scanned him up and down and slipped her hand across the front of his shirt.

  She was a persistent and stubborn woman. She was hell-bent on getting something from him whether he’d agreed to take them or not but whatever it was he wasn’t going for it. He was flattered that he still managed to look attractive after all of these years but he’d shut that part of his life down and for good reason.

  It reminded him that people, even in their darkest hours, still have deeply-rooted urges that go unnoticed. We still long for the simple things in life that can make a dark day bright again.

  She leaned in closer, her pouty-red lips beaming in the light when the loud barrage of gunfire rang out across the front of the store. It was followed by a second, then a third; the groaning outside had finally ceased.

  He flinched and waited for her dismount before rising to his feet. She slid her hands back and across the waistband of her skirt and followed. Footsteps paraded from around the corner from where they’d come.

  “Nice timing, you two.” Teresa said.

  “Did they get in?”

  “I’m not sure.” She said. “Something sure did.”

  He glanced over her shoulder and peered down the corridor. He’d been able to tell a human from a zombie by the way their shadows moved. A zombie, in this case, would’ve been staggering toward them whether they were dragging something behind or not.

  The five shadows slithering across the wall of the corridor were not.

  “Let’s go.” He said.

  Colin shifted the crowbar from his right hand to his left hand and ushered the others out ahead of him. Pixie hitched a breath, pressed her hand softly against the middle of Jason’s back and followed Teresa across the hall.

  Gripping the crowbar in his right fist, he hung back with Dominic again. A second set of footsteps shuffled inside the corridor behind them. His heart lurched at the sound of a fully loaded clip being jacked into a pistol and it was probably a machine pistol at that.

  A second barrage of gunfire exploded across the arena, whistled around his right shoulder and struck the wall beside the concession stand. A chunk of concrete flew across the air and tumbled across the floor; it rolled three inches past his knee and out of sight.

  A third barrage of gunfire punched the floor around their feet, kicking up plumes of dust. Dominic gave a girlish yelp and kept running.

  When they passed the concession stand, Teresa crouched down and fired twice; the reports pounded against the walls like sledgehammers. The others stopped dead in their tracks, waiting for her to rejoin them. She fired two more times.

  Colin spun around, slipped his left arm through her right arm, jerked her to her feet and dragged her away. She slipped her arm free and motioned for the others to keep going. He thought he’d heard a third set of footsteps coming toward them from the other side but it turned out to be his own rapidly-beating heart and the blood pounding his ears.

  “Go left when I tell you to.”

  Dominic rolled his eyes at the sound of those very same words that’d got them into this mess in the first place. If Pixie hadn’t wandered off they might’ve avoided this mess. Teresa picked up speed and got back to the front of the line.

  “Now.” Colin said.

  They skidded to a stop and fled through the gate marked SEC. 3. They ran down the stairs descending through large sections of purple-and-white floor-to-ceiling bleachers; bright colorful banners hung down from the rafters on sparkling gold tassels, detailing the years of the teams’ victories. A sleek wooden basketball court sat below, bracketed by two red-metal basketball hoops with square glass backboards; the only light in the room came from a nest of spotlights jutting down from the bottom of a metallic four-sided scoreboard.

  They dashed single-file down the steps, their rapid feet jarring the bleachers with each step they took. The lights flickered, nearly stopping them in their tracks but refused to die. A rectangular metal cart half stocked with bright orange basketballs sat under the right-side hoop, glinting under the overhead lights.

  Teresa stepped onto the court when a short blonde zombie in a purple and white cheerleading uniform staggered out from behind the first row of seats. The skin along the left side of the girl’s face from temple to the edge of her jawline had been peeled away, exposing a road map of flesh, teeth and bone. Two male zombies with dark hair in ratty blood-stained clothes appeared; the one on their left peered at her with one empty eye socket as his counterpart sported a missing left arm.

  Seven more emerged from between the seats. Four more stumbled out from the players’ entrance tunnels located on the far left and right corners of the court.

  Colin stepped around Dominic and reared the crowbar back across his chest when something appeared in the corner of his right eye. He lowered the crowbar, snatched one of the basketballs from the cart in his left hand and chucked it across the court. The basketball flew across the court and struck the cheerleader in the face.

  The impact spun her head around to the left and knocked her onto the floor.

  He snatched a second ball from the cart. “Let’s play some ball.”

  Behind him, a female zombie with bed-head white hair in a long floral print dress shuffled toward him. She opened her mouth, emitting a loud vibrating groan. She stretched out her right arm when he hurled the ball across the court and struck her right knee, knocking her legs out from underneath of her.

  She lost her balance and struck the floor face first. Her head spun around with a loud jarring crack. Her tongue lolled out from the side of her mouth, she fell face first, spraying a geyser of blood across the court.

  Pixie stopped dead in her tracks and cried out to him. Dominic threw his arm across her chest and coerced her to keep going while Teresa and Colin covered their backs.

  Colin flung a third basketball across the court and, grunting under his breath, struck another zombie. Teresa’s gun barked, drowning out the chorus of panic-stricken cries blurting from Pixie’s tear-stained lips. He pushed the cart across the court and, its unoiled wheels wailing with protest, sent a small wave of basketballs leaping across the court like tumbleweeds.

  Blood sprayed the air and rained down onto the bleachers. Colin tightened his grip on the crowbar and whipped it across the air in a whistling arc, filling his air with the sound of shattered bone. For every one that went down, two more appeared.

  Colin snapped the crowbar across the face of a nose-less zombie in a gray janitor’s uniform and sent the fiend stumbling back onto the court. Jason ran past him, cupped his little sister’s legs with both hands and ran up the stairs, his feet thudding against the staircase. Dominic slipped his arm away from Pixie’s chest, wrapped his right hand around her left wrist and hauled her up the stairs.

  Teresa slammed a fresh clip into her Glock, walked backward up the stairs, aimed and fired, filling the arena with another volley of gunfire. The others ran past her as a loud rattling cough blurted from Rosie’s wet pink lips. She glanced down and saw Colin rearing his arm back, waiting to take another shot at the horde surrounding him.

  “Get the fuck up here.” She said.

  Colin spun around and ran, his heart pounding. When he reached the top, he ran past them and stopped in his tracks, his shoes scuffing against the floor.

  At the end of the corridor on the left, a carpet of light flooded the walkway. Dominic paused beside of a wide metal door and waved them over with a quick wave of his hand. The regulation EXIT sign fixed above the door died long ago, no longer a beacon of hope for others who’d scurried out of here before they did.

  As he reared his head through the door and glanced across the parking lot to make sure it was safe, they scurried out of the arena.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ONCE they were outside, they pushed the door shut, planted their feet into the pavement and pinned their backs against it. A large gust of thick humid air rushed them from both sides, caressing their skin and ruffling their clothes. Colin’s skin prickled with fear at the chorus of deep groans resonating from the other side of the door; the hairs along the nape of his neck stiffened.

  Jason backed away from the building and placed a reassuring hand against the middle of Rosie’s back as the sun’s harsh rays warmed the back of his neck. Although he wanted to help, he knew he wasn’t strong enough.

  Something glinted in the corner of his right eye. He cupped his hands around his eyes and peered across the parking lot as beads of sweat dotted his bronze forehead.

  As Dom and Teresa pinned their backs to the door, Pixie stepped back, reared her right hand back and brought it across Colin’s left cheek. A loud crack echoed across the lot. The impact his head spun around, knocked him off his feet and slammed his back against the door. Pain burst across his cheekbones and jarred his senses as tiny pinpricks of light distorted his vision.

  His eyes wide with shock, he massaged his cheek. He glanced at her, his face twisted under a mixture of confusion and anger.

  She jabbed her finger in his face. “Don’t do that again.”

  Tears protruded from the corners of her narrow angry eyes and slid down her bright-red cheeks. A strangled cry issued from Rosie’s lips as she buried her face in her hands. Jason sighed, made a small tentative step toward her and wrapped her in his arms.

  He whispered something in her ear that no one could hear. A second thunderous clap resonated across the parking lot but it was coming from the arena this time and not from Pixie’s dangerous hands. The door jostled, slapped the edge of the flat metal barrier fixed to the right side of the door and then clapped shut again.

  “Could you put a sock in it?” Dominic said. “We can’t hold this fucking door forever.”

  Colin saw movement on his right and glanced over in time to see Jason running toward them. He brushed him off with a dismissive wave of his hand, pressed his left boot against the bright yellow bollard and winced with exhaustion. A tall three-story parking garage sat on the opposite end of the parking lot, separated from the rear lot (which he’d thought this was) by a tall dark-green plastic fence.

  “Get over there and stay back.”

  “I wanted to show you something.”

  “Whatever it is.” He said. “It can wait.”

  Jason snapped his fingers until Colin glanced back up at him. He reached over with his right hand, cupped the tip of his chin and pointed toward the other end of the lot.

  Colin slid his foot away from the bollard, pushed himself away from the door and followed the tip of Jason’s finger. Sweat coated the crown of his forehead, glinting under the hot mid-afternoon sun and slid down his cheeks.

  “You’re a fucking genius, kid.”

  He glanced back across the parking lot and saw a bright-red single-cab pickup truck sitting between a dark-blue minivan and a lamp pole. Pockets of rust ate up the front bumper and the driver-side mirror was hanging on by a single black thread jutting out from a tiny black hole.

  Did it have plenty of gas? Maybe he could hot wire the thing and pull it around just close enough for them to jump in? The last time he tried that he nearly lost his head.

  He snatched a quick breath, pushed himself away from the door and cupped Jason’s head in both hands. He planted a quick soft kiss on the boy’s left cheek (something he hadn’t done to anyone in a long time) and hurried over to Pixie.

  “Come with me.” He said, then pointed to Jason and said. “Stay here.”

  Pixie craned her head to the side and glared at him.

  “Where are you going?” Teresa said.

  “Just keep that damn door shut until I get there.”

  He snatched Pixie’s right wrist and led her across the lot. Heat waves wriggled off the pavement like lucid snakes; tree shadows rippled across the curbs and sidewalks. The wind whispered through the trees and flung the sharp putrid cloud of decaying flesh across their faces.

  When they approached the pickup, Colin pressed his forehead against the burning window, cupped his hands around his eyes and peered inside. Large bibs of dry sticky blood clung to the dashboard and speckled across the face of a cheap bobblehead of the mascot of a pro football team.

  He looked at her, tiny creases of confusion etched across his forehead, and shook it off. He tried the handle on the driver-side door and found that it was locked. He untied his pullover, wrapped it around his right fist and punched the window as hard as he could.

  After the third try, the window shattered, spilling bits of glass across the seat. He disengaged the lock, yanked the door opened and swept the debris off the front seat. He slid behind the wheel, glanced down at the gas gauge and cursed under his breath; the bright orange needle was pointed toward the hashmark two inches above the E.

  He glared down the parking lot again when another idea popped into his head. Whatever it was, he had to act fast. There was no telling how many of them had been inside nor did he want to imagine how many would get out here once Teresa and Dominic failed to hold it shut any longer.

  “Get in there and put it in neutral.” He said. “I’ll push it in front of the door so we can trap them inside and get the hell out of here.”

  He hurried over to the rear left quarter panel as Pixie slid inside. He peered inside the back of the pickup and saw a dented gray metal tool box lying on its side, its edges glinting in the sun. He stepped up onto the rear tire, stretched his arm across and grappled for the edge so he could get a good handle on it.

  He pressed his fingers against the left side and jerked back. It spun in a chaotic curlicue and slid toward him, rattling its contents inside, seized it with both hands and flipped the latch. He peered inside and found a claw hammer, two pairs of pilers, an array of different nails and screws.

  He snatched the claw hammer from the bottom shelf, tucked it into the belt loop against his right pocket. He leaped down, hurried around to the rear of the pickup and slapped the driver side of the tailgate.

  He peered across the back of the truck and watched her shift the truck into neutral. He planted his right foot back, his left foot forward, clenched his teeth together and pushed.

  His shoulders pressed together, drawing a thin line down the middle of his back. Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead, glinted off the apex of his head and trickled down his sides.

  “Hurry!” Teresa said. “We can’t hold them back much longer.”

  The door jostled, tossing a few strands of her dark hair across the crown of her right shoulder. Dominic winced between his teeth as it prodded the middle of his back, grunted and pressed the balls of his feet to the hot tarmac to apply more weight.

  Colin drew a cloud of hot stale air deep into his lungs and grunted as Pixie kept the wheel straight and aimed the truck’s front bumper toward the back door. Two steps later, his right foot buckled and slid out from underneath him but only for a second. He regained his balance, felt a deep ache pulsating across his hands, buried his left shoulder against the tailgate and pushed again.

  When they neared the arena, Pixie leaped out of the truck. She scurried across the lot and stumbled to a halt beside of Jason as the wind blew the door shut behind her. Colin peered over the top of the tailgate and glanced through the front window to see how far he’d gotten.

  Dominic and Teresa flung themselves away from the door and ran across the lot. Colin glanced out of the corner of his right eye and saw Teresa stumbling back on drunken wobbly feet. She sat down, her fingertips pressing against the hot gray asphalt as her ponytail whipped across the back of her head.

  He hurried across the parking lot, his boots clopping against the pavement. He crouched down beside of her, looped his right arm around her left armpit and lifted her back onto her feet.

  She followed him across the lot as the truck struck the bright yellow bollards hard enough to knock them out of the tarmac. They stumbled across the parking lot and thudded against the truck’s undercarriage. The truck crashed against the big metal door with a thunderous clap, emitting the shriek of metal grating against metal and pinned it shut.

  Colin caught movement in the corner of his right eye. A small horde of zombies came stumbling down the pathway along the right side of the arena, each one sporting various wounds.

  He scanned the front of the employee’s entrance and found the crowbar wedged up under the passenger side tire. He remembered the hammer he’d stuck into his pocket but still entertained the thought of having a second weapon.

  “Come on.” Dominic said.

  Colin took Pixie’s hand and led her across the parking lot when the tip of her right foot caught the edge of the curb. Her right hand slid from his grasp as she tumbled across the street. She gave a girlish yelp, gazed down at the street with wide horror-struck eyes and landed on all fours, scraping her hands and knees across the pavement.