Sure enough, one was faster than the other, and they had spread out far enough for him to bury the hook end of the crowbar in the skull of the first zombie. Unfortunately, the crowbar stuck, and he couldn’t pull it out in time to get to the second zombie, a kid about thirteen or so years old. Mark pulled on the crowbar, but only succeeded in burying it deeper. He walked backwards, avoiding the kid, but dragging the dead zombie with him. The zombie kid got closer and Mark swung the dead Z around, knocking the kid down, and burying him under the body.

Mark tugged and tugged, but couldn’t get the crowbar out. The other zombie struggled with the weight and began to get out from under the first. I walked up to the situation, and clobbered the kid with my pickaxe to the head. His struggles ceased and Mark finally managed to get the crowbar out. We wiped off the weapons and kept moving, with only the sound of our heavy breathing permeating the air. I don’t care what anyone says, fighting zombies wears you out. I was in as good a shape as I could be, but this had me breathing heavily. Maybe it was the adrenaline and the fear, mixed in with fighting for your life that took the toll. Whatever it was, I was somewhat spent.

Mark wasn’t in any better shape. He had dragged that Z then swung it around, leaning back and breathing up to the sky, and coughing.

After a minute, we had recovered and were moving again at a steadier pace. We passed several houses and businesses, and made our way to a huge condo complex at the end of the street. Walker Road was the intersection, and on the other side I could see the trench surrounding our portion of the town. While it worked great on keeping any outside zombies from wandering in, it was the ones still on the inside that concerned me. There were a lot of zombies and we had a lot of work to do.