Die Trying: A Zombie Apocalypse by Nicholas Ryan

have a work shed or a garage,” I said. “Maybe out the back. I’ll take a look.”
    I left Harrigan with Walker and his daughter huddled around the candles, and re-traced my steps into the kitchen. Jed heard me. He turned, stared hard at me, but said not a word.
    “Anything moving outside?” I asked, nodding at the kitchen window.
    Jed sucked in a breath, and grimaced with a sudden flash of pain. “Fucking everything,” he said. “The wind is still blowing and the storm is still right overhead. Everything is moving.”
    I went to the back door. It was locked, with a big brass key still in the key-hole. I unlocked the door and cracked it open. A blast of howling icy wind slapped me in the face. I couldn’t see anything. The night was pitch-black.
    “Where you going?” Jed asked suddenly.
    I glanced at him. “To find something to remove that tooth with,” I said.
    “From where?”
    I shrugged. “There must be a shed or a garage in the back yard,” I said. “It’s bound to have tools – maybe even things we can use as weapons. I’m going out to take a look.”
    Jed seemed to freeze for a moment, and I saw his expression change. It was like he was dealing with a split-personality disorder, not knowing which part of him would speak next. Finally he sighed, and stepped close to me. I could smell the fetid stench of his stale breath, mingling with the fumes of the whisky. But his eyes were clear and sharp. He reached into a low kitchen cupboard and handed me a flashlight. It was a long, heavy thing. I hefted it in my hand. It hadn’t been there when Harrigan and I had searched the kitchen for food and drink. It was the kind of heavy blunt object that murders were committed with. “Take this,” he said reluctantly. “I found it in one of the bedside drawers.”
    I flicked the flashlight on, and the beam cut through the night like a laser, seemingly brilliant white to my night-adjusted eyes. The flare of light bounced off the kitchen walls, illuminating the entire room. I flicked it off immediately and stared down at it, contemplating.
    “You were going to keep this for yourself, right?”
    Jed said nothing. He glared at me, his body bristling with defiance.
    “You were going to take it when we left the house, but not tell anyone you had it.”
    Jed said nothing.
    I pulled open the door and went out into the night without another word. I snapped t he flashlight on for not more than two brief seconds – but it was enough to get my bearings. The light sliced through the driving, misting rain, and cast the back yard of the home under an instant flash like daylight.
    There was a small garden shed to my left, set against the side fence of the property. In front of me was level grassy lawn, studded with low trees and shrubs, tied to wooden stakes for support. In the far right corner of the yard was the dark brooding shape of a garag e, connected to the side of the house by some kind of a concrete driveway.
    The garden shed was closer. The garage in the back corner offered the most likely solution.
    I hesitated – and then went left across the lawn towards the tiny garden shed.
    It ghosted out of the dark night, and when I felt I must be standing right in front of it, I cupped my hand over the lens of the flashlight to mute the glow and flicked it back on. I was still three feet away from the structure, and I had somehow veered further to my left than I had intended. I was just about to walk into the damned fence.
    I finally found the door. It was a thin metal thing with tiny plastic handles – a pair of doors that slid apart. I slid the right-hand door open a couple of inches and clenched my jaw tight as the bottom of the door scraped on broken rollers. I paused – stood perfectly still – and waited for snarling sounds of death to fill the night.
    Nothing. Just the howl of the wind and the drumming of the rain on the aluminum roof of the shed. I slid the door open wide enough for me to squeeze into the