Shane was going to kill me.

Even if I ended up dead, he would still kill me.

That's only kind of a zombie joke.

This was stupid. So, so stupid, And crazy to boot.

First, I needed a way to tell Kyle. Before Shane came back downstairs.

I slipped into the kitchen and looked for anything I could write on. I smiled when I saw one of those little whiteboards on the fridge people use to leave notes.

I took a moment to tighten the laces of my boots and took a deep breath. This got more insane the more I thought about it.

So, the solution was to not think about it. Remember #2? Don't over-complicate.

I went around the stairs until I got to where I could see Kyle and he could see me, but I still stayed out of sight of the zombies.

He looked over at me and frowned. I held up a finger, then wrote: I have an idea.

Kyle read this, and his frown deepened.

I rubbed out the first message, then wrote: I need your help.

Kyle gave me a look that clearly said: How the fuck am I supposed to do anything?

I grimaced, then wrote: I can lead them away.

Kyle's eyes widened and he shook his head violently.

I took a deep breath and wrote: Tell Shane I'll meet you guys back where the truck ran out of gas.

Kyle shook his head again. He pointed up, then drew a finger across his throat, then pointed at himself.

I wrote: Shane is not going to kill you.

Kyle folded his arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow.

I wrote: You literally can't stop me. Just tell Shane. I'll get to you when I can.

Kyle looked exceptionally pissed. But, like I'd told him, he couldn't do anything to stop me. The zombies thumping against the glass getting steadily more agitated seemed to remind him of that fact. 

I took another deep breath, then wrote: If I don't reach you in a few hours, just go.

Kyle looked down. I could see his hands shaking a little. He was really angry, which kind of surprised me.

I went back around the stairs until I reached the side door in the kitchen. It faced the south, and I opened it quietly, slipping outside.

Edging around to the side of the house, my heart was pounding hard enough that it shook my body. I peered around the corner of the house, the brick cool against my back.

No more zombies were coming from the south, but now there were six or seven on the porch, trying to get into the house. I flinched when one of them pounded on the window, cracking the glass. Adrenaline coursed through me, making me feel a little shaky.

I took another breath, praying a little. Good thing I'd kept up on my cardio.

I heard the glass crack again, pieces chiming to the ground, and ran out into the street.

"Hey!" I yelled. "Come on! Over here!"

The zombies all turned and growled at me in unison. I grimaced when I saw that one had a chunk of its cheek torn out, and one of the others had its intestines spilling out in shiny, white ropes.

That's all I had time to notice, though, because two of the more fresh zombies were running after me.

They moved weirdly. Kind of jerky, like their muscles couldn't quite figure out what it was the zombies wanted them to do.

Not that I was worried about that because it meant I wasn't having to sprint full out. I could run at a more maintainable pace.

Which was great, considering I ended up running probably more than a mile.

I ran fast enough to keep out in front of some of the faster ones, shouting and circling every now and then to keep the slower ones interested.

I ran, turning sharply onto various streets, slipping between houses.

When I got far enough from Shane and Kyle that I was sure the zombies wouldn't turn back, I started looking for a way to shake them.

And I needed to do it soon.

My lungs were starting to burn, a stitch starting to form in my side, right under my ribs. It felt like someone was stabbing me every time I inhaled. I put on a new burst of speed but the zombies were still right on my tail, close enough that I could hear their weird, growling breaths.

Not good. I was getting tired. Generally speaking, I could probably have run for another twenty minutes, but the adrenaline spike I'd had at the beginning had killed me.

Looking over my shoulder, I wanted to groan when it didn't look like they were getting winded or tired. My legs were getting heavier, my breath burning in my throat.

Maybe this hadn't been such an awesome idea. I hate running, but nothing like extremely painful death to inspire someone right?

All I can say is thank God for that one person who always wants a fence, even in seemingly idyllic neighborhoods.

Chain link was literally my best friend that day.

I put on a final burst of speed and leapt onto the fence, scrambling over the top, crying out when the wire at the top of the fence tore into my forearm and my waist, just above my belt.

I fell to the ground and just lay there gasping, heaving air in and out, watching as the zombies smashed against the fence, trying to get at me.

I stayed there, waiting for my heart to slow down, taking deep breaths to try and force oxygen through my body, listening to them growl and rattle the fence.

They smelled horrible, and every now and then, I'd catch a whiff of bowel from the one that had been gutted, making me gag. But I was too tired to move just yet.

Adrenaline was kind of an ass-kicker.

I wiped sweat from my eyes and finally sat up, taking in my surroundings. I had run south, then east from the main road. I figured if I just headed west, I'd hit the road we'd come in on, then I could make the mile trek back to the boys.

I still had the revolver and the granola bar, which was a bonus. But I was really thirsty. And bleeding. The wire had cut into me pretty good. Blood was weeping down the side of my arm, making my right hand slick around the revolver.

I grimaced and swore when I checked the scratch on my hip, watching blood leach slowly down the side of the jeans I'd found.

Awesome.

I sighed, then jumped when one of the zombies slammed hard against the fence, making it shake and rattle with an ungodly noise. I needed to get out of here in case they drew more.

But first, since I was already here, I was gonna go through the house.

Opportunity wasted is opportunity lost, right?

I found a backpack and dumped out a bunch of school supplies to make room for anything useful that I managed to find.

There were some water bottles in the fridge, one of which I gulped down, the cool water soothing against my parched throat. Then I went through the cabinets, grabbing whatever I could find, which wasn't much.

Whoever had lived here must have taken it with them. Good for them. Bad for me.

I took what I could find, thinking that maybe coming back with some supplies, maybe I would be able to redeem myself.

Now that I wasn't literally running for my life, I was horrified that we'd had to run at all, this time because of me.

Trust me, you don't ever want to feel that way.

You don't want to be responsible for that.

I took the time to shred a sheet and wrap up my arm and waist, then left.

I started walking, careful to check around every house and corner. I didn't want to have to run again. I was about done in after not having much to eat, less to drink and now bleeding.

I frowned when I saw that the scratch on my arm was already bleeding through my makeshift bandage, staining the green fabric a bright red.

The walk wasn't too bad. At least I didn't run into any more zombies. It did give me a lot of time to think though.

I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to get back to Shane. I could only imagine how furious he was going to be.

But I'd had to do something.

It was my fault we'd been in that situation to begin with. I'd put them in danger.

The situation created my thirteenth rule.

Lucky thirteen is hard.

Rule #13: Don't endanger your people.

Obviously I'm not saying always stay out of danger.

That's impossible.

What I'm saying is don't be the kind of person who just takes stupid risks or does stupid things like screaming in the middle of a bunch of zombies.

And, yeah, I know my solution seemed like a stupid risk, but not really. I had been pretty sure that I could outrun the zombies, and I did.

It's okay to take calculated risks. Survival depends on it. Hell, Shane's a master of calculated risk.

What's not okay is any action that puts anyone but yourself in danger.

I get it. You're not perfect and, obviously, neither am I. At some point, we all screw up like I did.

What I'm saying is it never hurts to put a little more effort into this particular rule.

Eventually it becomes second nature, all those little life saving habits.