Zombies surged forward en masse, a gruesome, fearsome sight.
The real me emerged, leaving flesh and blood behind, a shell the zombies would ignore. They cared nothing for literal brains and meat. They wanted the good stuff. The essence of me. The source of my every breath. My spirit.
Well, they wouldn’t get it.
The spirit wore and carried whatever the body wore and carried, so I remained loaded down with weapons. I disregarded the colder air, the chilling sounds—now louder—the brighter lights, the ranker smells, and hacked through a zombie’s chest.
Turned. Slashed through a Z-head. Turned. Swiped a Z-throat. Turned. My blade cut through a Z’s mouth. Black goo oozed and splattered over my hands, burning. I disregarded the pain, too. I had to remain in a constant state of motion as the creatures surrounded me and closed in—or else.
I swung the axes and arced back to avoid snapping teeth, then circled back around to nail the culprit in the throat. He fell to the floor, minus his head. Hands reached for me—I removed them. More teeth snapped at me—I knocked jaws together, grinding already decaying enamel into powder. Then I finished one creature’s fight with metal through the brain.
I cursed my inability to properly multitask. I needed to light up. Now, now, now. My light was our only hope for victory. But one thing became clear. I wasn’t going to get a moment of peace.
Work with what you’ve got.
Light up, I commanded, even as I swung at another zombie. Light—
One of the creatures tangled his fingers in my hair and yanked. There was a sharp sting in my scalp, but I ignored it just like everything else and went low, twisting and raking one of my blades across his middle. Rotted guts spilled on the floor, making it slippery.
Steady.
Because the crowd of zombies had separated us, Cole had to work his way back to my side. His features were strained, and I suspected his injury, though healed on the outside, was sensitive and tender inside. But still he motored on, protecting me here and now, protecting others later.
Frosty worked his way beside Cole, the two forming a wall of muscle in front of me. Then Bronx was there, another wall. Then Veronica. Suddenly I was surrounded. These slayers, my friends, were giving me that moment of peace.
I stilled, closed my eyes. Breathed deeply. Told myself I could do this, building my faith.
I straightened my fingers, curled them. I can...light up...now!
But there was nothing. No heat.
Come on. Light up!
Again, nothing.
Worry tried to sneak in and break me down. This might be the one time the ability failed me. The rest of my friends would die and it would be my fault.
Shut up, Downer Ali!
I held fast to my faith, knowing I had to believe I could do this, despite my feelings, despite the circumstances, despite what seemed to be happening—or not happening—before I could actually do it. Because that’s how faith worked. If everything came easily, I would never be tested or exercised, would never grow stronger.
Like working out at a gym. At first, my puny limbs had been able to lift only the baby weights. The more I’d trained, the stronger I’d gotten. The longer I held on now, the hotter and brighter my fire would be when it finally arrived.
And it would arrive.
“You can do it,” Cole urged.
My eyelids flipped open as he broke a zombie’s neck.
“You’ve got this, Als.” Frosty swiped his sword across a zombie’s middle.
Yes. Yes, I thought, reminded that words were a weapon right now. Whatever a slayer said while in this form, this realm, he received.
Well...as long as he believed it.
Thank God the others believed what they were saying; a lance of strength shot through me.
I closed my eyes, concentrated. Light up.
“You can do it,” Veronica repeated.
“This?” Bronx said. “This is nothing for Ali Bell.”
Their faith hooked with mine, undergirding me, shielding me from any more worry. You will light up, Ali Bell! Right...now!
At the ends of my fingers, flames flickered to life, quickly spreading to my wrists, elbows and shoulders.
Time for a good old-fashioned butt kicking.
I basked in the heat now stroking higher...lower...everywhere, and focused on the battle.
But...how... In just a few seconds, everything had changed. A zombie had Veronica pinned on the floor, and he was chomping on her neck. Bronx was trying to pull the creature off her, but the thing was like a dog with a bone, its teeth sinking in deeper as it shook its head. Finally, though, Bronx succeeded...but three others quickly took its place. He fought, but four others jumped on his back, tossing him to the floor in a tangle of limbs.
I rushed over and touched the creatures with my fingertips. Instant ash. But the small victory wasn’t as sweet as it should have been. Veronica and Bronx were out for the count, already overcome by toxin and writhing in pain.