Pushing past Denaux, I raced through the darkened farmhouse, my sight seemingly enhanced, hurtling over piles of errant debris toward the front door.

  The incessant wailing of zombie fists upon the dilapidated compound doors grew louder with feral intensity, as I flew in front of the closed entryway and heaved a nearby shelf into its direction, stopping the pounding footsteps outside in their tracks, and leading them to a hard collision against the door, but not enough to send it open, and thus hindering their movement for the time being.

  Denaux huffed and puffed as he gingerly hopped into the foyer, avoiding any materials on the floor with deft precision.

  “This is why you should wear shoes,” I snapped, not admiring his languished accompaniment.

  “Chère, you got a bold tongue for being the one who got us in this vile predicament!”

  “Wh-what!?” My mouth hung agape. “You're the reason we're here in the first place!”

  “I didn't lead our good friends over here though,” he hissed.

  “I was confident they'd be slow!” I shouted back, motioning for him to assist with dragging furniture over to barricade the door.

  “Well, they do say, confidence is a friend of the devil.” Denaux replied knowingly.

  “No one says that!” I growled back.

  “But they might,” he smirked.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “You're insufferable,” I howled, tossing any extra debris I could find against the door. “What's our exit strategy?”

  Denaux stood in silence, stroking his chin. “The basement is a risk. We can get onto the roof from my old bedroom window though.”

  “Good enough for me,” I said, as the back door cracked loudly, surely coming off its hinges. Denaux and I looked sharply at each other.

  “Lead the way,” I flagged him up the stairs, “watch out for any Legos.”

  “Hah hah!” Denaux laughed mockingly in a high pitch as he ascended the roughshod steps, creaking all the way up.

  RARGH! The zombies cried as they spilled into the adjacent room, scrambling over each other like a small tidal wave of mangled flesh.

  I bolted up the stairs, them hot on my tail, before I felt a balmy hand wrap around my ankle, halfway up. Looking down, I saw the mass piling up the steps, and one had latched onto me. With a swift kick, my foot exploded straight through its snarling face, splattering viscous brains and dark goo along the walls, before hurtling back up to follow Denaux, with his hand outstretched towards me.

  I could feel that familiar power coursing through my veins, was this it at work? I looked back down to see the zombies detached hand still clenched around my ankle, before tearing it off, and whipping it behind me, striking another zombie in the face and sending it reeling all the way back down.

  Grabbing Denaux's hand, he pulled me down a short hall and turned into a side bedroom, passing by dusty family pictures showing a happy young boy and his loving parents on a porch swing outside the property. It hurt my soul and surely Denaux's, even though he wasn't focused on it at the moment.

  Swinging into Denaux's old room we slammed the door, locking it behind us, and pulled over a dresser to lodge against the frame.

  I moved past an unfocused Denaux and headed towards the window, which showed a long slope of rooftop descending at a slight gradient down the opposite side of the house, and placed my hands on the lip to yank the window up.

  “Don't remember having this in my room,” Denaux said, his leather-bound book firmly entrenched under his arm as he approached something sitting on his desk.

  “What?” I said, turning and looking at him.

  A large shrunken head sat there, its eyes sewn shut, hair tied up over its little green hued dried out face, just like you'd see in the movies.

  “No, I don't like this none,” he reached to touch it.

  “Denaux,” I urged, “c'mon.”

  “This don't feel right, chère.” He stood, mesmerized by the oddity.

  Slowly, a huge shadow eclipsed me through the window, a low growling accompanying it.

  I turned to register it, my eyes widening. “No, I don't like this either,” I softened, as the visage of the bloodthirsty werewolf, Isaac Brimstone, towered over me.