The Chief grabbed the walkie-talkie attached to his shoulder lapel, letting the broom thump unnoticed to the soft June grass. "Mark! Mark! Are you there? Come in, Mark!"

Father Lee stood up, hands clenched into fists.

James' heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't stop looking at his dad's truly dead eyes that were staring up at the moon. He should close his eyelids. Take the – his stomach heaved – knife out from where it stuck out between his dad's dark brown hair at the back of his head.

Interminable seconds later the Chief's walkie crackled. "Zombies, Seb! They're everywhere. Get back, Mrs Raul!"

The walkie clicked off.

The Chief herded the three kids towards the door. "James, we'll bury your father later. But Father Lee and I need to get downtown right away."

The Chief swung the door shut forcefully behind him, but Father Lee jumped to catch it before it slammed. He gently pushed it to. "Seb, we have to be careful about the noise we make."

Chief Koch rubbed a hand through his short Afro and grimaced when he looked back out to James' dad lying dead outside. "You're right. I'm sorry."

He took out his gun and checked the chambers. "I have an extra service revolver in the trunk of my car, Olly. We don't have time to swing by the station, although we probably should."

Chief Koch rammed his gun back into its holster. "You kids stay inside. Where it's safe."

Father Lee shook his head. "I'm not going to ask you for promises I don't think you'll keep. But I need you to promise that you will do everything possible to stay safe."

They all nodded sombrely. James linked his hands with Petra and Viktor. Theirs were just as sweaty as his.

He might not have been strong enough to kill his zombie-dad, but he'd protect these two until his last breath.

The priest had to swallow several times before he could continue. "I just need nothing to happen to you. Okay?"

With two heavy steps, Chief Koch had crossed the small room and gathered them and Father Lee in a group hug.

Above their heads, the Chief's gravelly voice was heavy when he said, "Do what Father Lee says, kids. Stay safe. It'll make what we have to do easier if we know you are staying safe." He squeezed with his arms, pushing the air out of their lungs in zombie-like moans. "All of you are good kids. You can't keep on being good kids if you're dead."

James couldn't help smiling at the wacky sentiment. His heart leapt into his throat when he imagined the reverse scenario.

Panic gripped James. He called out, voice cracking but he didn't care for once, "Wait!" The men turned back. "You take care too. I... I don't know what we'd do without you."

He ran forward and clasped the Chief hard around the waist. James inhaled the scent of leather and laundry soap, committing it to memory.

Petra gave a sob and ran forward to hug Father Lee, while Viktor spread his arms to encompass them both. Their shoulders shook with their not-so-silent sobs.

The Chief wrapped his long arms around them all and Father Lee did the same.

After a few seconds the Chief laid a hand on James' head. "We have to go, son. Others need us right now. Need us to get there quick-like."

James looked up at this man who'd served as his father figure for so many years. His tears had left wet marks on the Chief's baby blue police shirt, were probably still running down his face, but James was beyond caring.

The man lying dead outside had died to him long ago. If something happened to the Chief... James' heart clenched painfully. He shied away from the thought.

Father Lee held out his hand for a fist bump. "We'll do our best, James." The priest's eyes took them all in. He smiled warmly, then they disappeared out the back door.

The three stood frozen, watching the door, as if the men would come back in.

James turned to Petra and Viktor. "Alright, what do we take as weapons?"

Ever the imp, Viktor's lips turned up in a smile. "Thought you'd never ask, hombre."

"There isn't much we can take from here other than the kitchen knives and the construction tools out in the tool shed." Petra scratched her head and looked around.

"We need a crowbar. Isn't that what they always have in zombie shows?" James began opening and closing cupboards looking for something, anything, they could take out with them.

"The car!" Petra exclaimed.

"Nah," James' muffled voice came from the closet. He emerged with a mop and practiced thrusting it like a spear. "Father Lee took the keys to the car."

Petra put her hands on her hips. "James, how long have you semi-lived here and you don't know there is a spare set of keys in that lockbox in the cupboard?"

"No way!" He ducked back in and flipped open the grey metal box mounted near the top. It had spare sets of keys for all the doors in the Church and rectory, as well as the unmistakable shape of a car key. He snatched it off the hook. "Alright, that's one weapon. What about the mop and broom handle?"

"No, they need to be sharpened. It'll take too long."

He placed the mop back in the cupboard with resignation.

"We need something sharp that'll give us a little bit of distance... The ax!" Peta and Viktor shouted together.

"So we have the crowbar, ax, we need one more. And who's taking what?" James asked. He was the tallest and strongest, but Viktor was a close second. Petra was a foot shorter than him, but she had muscles developed from all the construction work they did and was far from weak.

"I know!" Petra cried. She yanked open the door under the sink and rummaged around, finally emerging with a roll of duct tape.

Viktor and James raised an eyebrow and glanced at each other.

"Uh, Pet, I don't think you can wrap a zombie in tape," James said jokingly.

"Just wait!" She got the mop and quickly unscrewed the stringy end, dropping it carelessly to the old linoleum. Stretching, she snagged the butcher's knife from the block and sat down to begin taping the two together. When it was done, she held her spear aloft and crowed, "Aha! Instant weapon!"

"That's fantastic, Pet! Are you sure it will hold, when you, like, you know, stab someone?" He was trying to be brave, but James' heart stuttered at the thought of seeing her being attacked. If the zombie-lore was correct, all it took was one bite. What about scratches? Was that true, too?

She gave the knife a hard wiggle but it didn't move. "Whether it does or not, it's the best we've got at the moment. It should be good for at least one zombie."

The car key dug painfully into his hand when he clutched it harder. "Let's get the ax and crowbar and get down to Main Street."

His breath came shorter when faced with the prospect of going outside. Petra's eyes were saucers, and Viktor slightly brown skin had paled with fear.

"We'll take the usual route. Let's try not to talk very much out there, okay?" The other two nodded. "Let's go."

The back door squeaked slightly when he opened it. The fresh scent of the June night wafted in.

They all hung back for a second, listening intently and partially immobilized by fear of the dangers the night held.

"I don't hear anything. Let's go," Petra said and pushed gently on James' back.

The push made him take a step forward onto the grass. The other two crowded out behind him. Together, they ran across the lawn to the shed and in.

"Damn! We forgot a flashlight!" James whispered.

There was the sound of metal clinking and other fumbling as Viktor felt his way around in the dark. "It's okay. I remember where the ax is. A shovel! Of course! How could we forget that? Should we take it?"

"Mmmm," Petra mused. James could just make her out to his left. "I think we'll be safer with what we've got. We'd need to practice with a shovel first because I don't think clunking a zombie on the head will work."

"No, but we could decapitate one. Knock it down then whammo, into the neck just like when we need to start digging a hole," Viktor replied.

"I doubt it's as easy as that. Stick with the ax for now, Vik. Let's play it safe," she said.

"Okay," Viktor grumbled. "I've got it. Let's go."

"Before we go," the other two paused at James' words. His breath and voice shook. "I just want to tell you that you're the best friends I have. The best part of my life. I don't know what would have happened to me without you." Tears began streaming down his face again.

Petra gave him a tight one-arm hug. Her warm breath heated his chest where she pressed her face into him.

"Awww, man. You're going to make me cry with all that sap," but Viktor's voice was emotion-laden and he came over to hug them too. His voice was muffled from Petra's shoulder. "One thing about a freakin' zombie apocalypse, it makes everyone huggy-feely."

"It's the zombie's being touchy-feely I'm not so keen on," James deadpanned.

Petra and Viktor laughed and they pulled apart a few inches.

Viktor said, "If it gets too hairy, we split, okay? It's like the Padre said, we need to stay safe."

"Agreed," from James and Petra said, "Okay."

"Alright, now we get the ax then straight to Main Street. Follow close behind me and watch for my hand going up. That'll mean I see something."

He sensed rather than saw the other two nod their heads.

The shed door swung open silently. A gentle breeze carried the sound of screams from downtown.

"Let's hurry!" James urged.

They ran around the rectory and hugged the shadows along the church, pausing by the towering oaks and maples near the front to scan ahead. Their little end of Acorn Road was quiet. The only house across the road had the lights off.

Out here, it was easier to tell if each screamer was male or female. At one point they heard Mr. Walden, a kind, elderly man who lived one street away from Main, scream, "No, Jenny! No!"

James waved a hand forward in the air, so they darted across Division Street, past the houses that had some lights on and flattened themselves against the back corner of Anita's Ice Cream Emporium and began to creep towards Main Street.

"Holy Mother of God," James whispered at what he saw ahead under the streetlight.

WORD COUNT: 1820

NANO WORD COUNT: 4032

TOTAL WORD COUNT: 5857