Throw a guy down and you earn yourself a fancy-looking black belt in martial arts. Apply this to what I like to call the “zombie arts” (work in progress) and I think you’d find that Otoha and I were very much deserving of one for having survived for more than a week.
Actually, pretend I never said that. Let’s just say that I was now feeling more confident in calling the shots.
Call it a gut feeling, but I just knew from the plethora of relevant variables I’d crunched within seconds right here—imagine me lightly tapping my temple—that this was the best shot we had at making it out unscathed.
And wouldn’t you know it, we deftly weaved our way through their ranks, smacking aside any zombie foolhardy enough to step within range of our melee weapons. In a flash, we’d made it to the other side of the fence without a single zombie laying so much as a rotten finger on us.
We put down five of the things, but we didn’t have the time or patience to dispose of them properly.
Luckily for us, the gate had been busted wide open... But that was where our luck ran out.
“C’mon baby, Papa needs a new pair of shoes.” I gently wriggled the handle on one of the mansion’s doors. “Great, this one’s locked too.”
“Try that one,” Otoha said, trying to fend off the swarm of zombies hot on our tail.
The SUVs were still nowhere to be seen, but the door she was referring to was the last entry point I hadn’t checked. There was still hope.
“Door, now!”
“Right. On it!”
I was running around trying to find a way in, and Otoha was holding the zombies back for as long as she could. Divvying up these tasks had just sorta happened without us saying a word about it.
“Locked.”
“I can’t hold them back much longer.”
A stream of zombies just kept flooding in through the front gate without any signs of stopping. It was only a matter of time before we were cornered.
“It’s always the sentimental ones who get themselves killed. Shoulda known better.”
“Oh, so you’re blaming me now?! Real cool, Otoha, real cool!” In my frustration, I tried kicking the door open, but it was no use.
Yeah, okay, I’m the one who got us into this mess! But all I wanted was to check up on a friend. Am I supposed to feel sorry about that? Am I supposed to get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness? Because rest assured, I’m not gonna—
“I’ll handle this,” she said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Just, for the love of God, promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“Watch me.” She took out a golf ball, threw it way up in the air, and got into batting stance with her shovel. Then... WHACK! She sent that sucker flying at supersonic speed straight at an unsuspecting zombie’s face. It fell on its back with a satisfying thump.
“Now that’s a home run if I’ve ever seen one.”
“You really knocked it out of the park there.” Good one, me. “Oh wait, my bad, it seems to be getting back up on its feet. Dang, it’s almost like this ‘plan’ was doomed to fail from the very get-go!”
“But it worked in the movies...”
“Are you trying my patience?”
“The only thing I’m trying is to figure out an escape route.”
“Good luck with that.”
We stood by the door, surrounded by zombies on all sides, and the clock was ticking.
Just as all hope seemed lost, we inexplicably sprouted wings, flew off into the sunset and lived happily ever after... and all that other stuff you’d probably love to see happen.
“All in favor of offing ourselves with our gun, say ‘aye,’” Otoha said, slicing off a zombie’s head. She then raised her hand. “Aye!”
“Nay!”
The gun had only four shots left. If we wanted to reserve two of those bullets for Otoha’s worst-case-scenario idea, then we had only two to defend ourselves with. I didn’t know if I could get us out of this mess, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Say hello to my little friend!” Just as I set my sights on a zombie and prepared to pull the trigger, I was pushed to the ground face-first.
“Why, I oughta—” Before I could cuss out my partner, I realized she was standing right beside me.
If she didn’t do it, then who the hell did?
“Stay down.”
I opened my mouth to say, “Wait, wh—”
BOOOOM!
At that moment, a thunderous roar violated my eardrums.
I watched as the two zombies closest to me got their heads blown to pieces with a nasty squelch. This shooter was packing serious heat; most likely a shotgun.
“Get inside, both of you.” The voice came from a maid wielding a Mossberg 500 12 gauge pump-action shotgun.
Hold on, a maid with a shotgun? That door must’ve hit me at the wrong angle because my deepest, darkest fantasies are coming to life!
“Hiroaki!”
Otoha’s voice brought me back to reality, but I was still too weak in the knees to get back up, so I had to crawl through the doorway.
Zombies were getting dangerously close to the door, but the maid popped three of them in quick succession, sending off yet another satisfying domino sequence.
The door closed and multi-locked itself just as one of the zombies lunged our way.
Ouch.
“We’re alive? Otoha, we’re alive!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.” She stared the armed maid down.
Mossberg model 500, the only shotgun to have ever passed the U.S. Army’s Mil-Spec 3443E test. She could dispose of us in so many different ways with that baby, it would make your head spin.
Hey, wait a second...
“I take it the death stare is your friend’s way of saying thank you?” she asked, sliding the forend back and forth to unload the shotgun.
The woman who’d saved us was roughly 170 cm tall, making her taller than average.
She wore a white, ruffled half-apron draped over a dark blue dress, white dress gloves, and a ruffled headpiece. Her choice of attire simply screamed stereotypical French maid.
And here I was under the impression that maids were in the same vein as elves or dragons. That is to say, purely fictional.
“Erm, yeah, that’s exactly it.” I nodded meekly.
“I’ll buy it... for now.” She lowered her weapon.
Early twenties seemed like an appropriate ballpark. She had this intimidating aura about her, unusual for someone her age—oval face, narrowed eyes, and glasses.
Put her in a suit and you’d have one hyper-strict, banging hot secretary who’d single-handedly keep any business afloat. Maybe it’s not proper to compare real-life ladies to fictional characters, but something about her reminded me of Raven.