Flip This Zombie - Jesse Petersen [33]
I glared at The Kid. “Kick him back when he’s not ready for it.”
Dave stared at me for a long moment and then slowly extended his finger (I won’t say which one, you can guess) upward toward the net that swung above us in the breeze.
“I meant what do you want to do about that?”
I shook my head and looked up. The creature was still thrashing around and growling at us, but apparently the infected don’t have much stamina (or maybe this particular one just didn’t have any in life or something) because his movements had become more sluggish and his growls less aggressive and harsh. Poor little guy was just getting tuckered out.
“We have to get him down, I guess,” I said.
The Kid snorted from behind us and both of us turned to stare at him. He smirked as he wiped his dirty hands on what had once been pale blue jeans and said, “You’re really smart, right?”
I’ve never wanted to strike a child as much as I did at that moment. I probably would have, too, but Dave caught my arm and held me in place.
“Sarah,” he said low and near my ear.
“Look, Robbie,” I said, using the name The Kid had given us when we demanded an introduction after he kicked the hell out of my leg. “You’re just a little brat, okay, so don’t pretend you know something about catching zombies that we don’t. Why don’t you run along?”
“Sarah!” David gasped in disbelief. When I looked at him he shook his head. “You really want to send the kid off on his own, unarmed in an apocalypse? What is he, ten?”
“I’m almost twelve, actually,” The Kid interjected with a been-there-done-that look. “Or I will be in six months. And I don’t need your help.”
“You needed it a minute ago,” I said, barely resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him.
He shrugged. “I guess, but just so you know, I would have figured it out even if I hadn’t seen you two.”
I stared at him. He was an annoying little twerp, but you couldn’t help but be impressed by him. After all, he wasn’t even a teen and was apparently alone after three months of zombie un-awesomeness. So he was probably right he would have figured it out.
I returned my attention to the swinging zombie pendulum above us since anything I had to say to The Kid at that point wouldn’t have been particularly useful.
“We can lower him to the ground pretty easily with the pulley system,” I said as I stared again at our prey. “But then how do we secure him? He’ll thrash all over the place in the back of the van. And if he got loose…”
I shuddered at the thought of being trapped in such a small space with a zombie.
Dave was silent as he pondered that, but before he could give me his answer, The Kid piped up again. “You could lower him halfway and then use a rope to tie him tighter. You two geniuses do have a rope, don’t you?”
“Yes, we have a fucking rope,” I said through clenched teeth.
The Kid shrugged. “Well, it would be easy. Just spin him like a piñata.”
I stared, partly because it was a pretty good plan and partly because the kid’s mouth was full of something. Again.
“Where are you getting so much food?” I asked as I watched him pop a Starburst into his mouth and toss the wrappers at his feet.
Without blinking, he pointed to his cargo jean pockets.
“Those are bad for your teeth,” I snapped, even though I had to admit I wanted one myself. But I wasn’t about to ask him to share. I shook my head and returned my attention to David. “What do you think? Would that work?”
My husband nodded. “It’s probably our best bet. And maybe we can use one of those burlap sacks from the old head-collecting days to cover his head and tie it, too. Less chance for grazing bites.”
“Alrighty,” I agreed.
“Do I get a cut?” The Kid asked as we started back toward the van so Dave could climb up on the awning and run the pulley system and I could grab the rope from one of our color-coordinated storage containers.
I stared at The Kid in confusion. “What?”
“Look, I’m not stupid just because I’m younger than you,” the little boy said as he folded his arms and stared at me with the most jaded expression