The Saga Of Tom Stinson (Book 1): Summer School Zombocalypse by Eric Johnson Page B

cement of his driveway.
    “ Get out of the way!” the twins warned.
    He didn’t dare take his eyes off the zombies. They were almost on him. Unclear of where they wanted him to go, he took the chance and looked up to see that both Winston and Emmett were holding the shotgun and pointing it down toward the advancing zombies. For an instant, he thought that Emmett was aiming for him. He dove to the side, out of the line of fire and rolled up against the garage door.
    The shotgun boomed in three slow, successive shots. The two closest zombies went down and fell at his feet, and the one from the garage hobbled around the corner. It’s half chewed head rolled to one side as it turned to face Tom. He shouted as he swung the shovel, “Die! Die! Die!”
    The shovel hit the zombie in the head. He struck again and again, following it as it staggered back and giving it everything he had. It fell and Tom drove the shovel into its head. “Not today.”
    “ Are you alright?” Winston and Emmett called down.
    Panting, shook his head.
    “ Hurry and get the ladder, more are coming,” Winston said.
    Weak from the fight, he struggled to raise the ladder to the tree house. Each step up sent pain through his body. At the top he collapsed and passed out with his feet hanging over the edge.
     
     

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WHAT’S THE PLAN?
    Tom woke to find Emmett and Winston shaking him. “Tom! We don’t know what to do. Wake up. Wake up.”
    His throat was bone dry, and his lips felt like they were cracking. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a faint rasp for water. Winston poured water into his mouth and guided his hand to hold the bottle.
    Winston’s voice was desperate. “Here, this is the last one.”
    Sunlight shone into Tom’s eyes through the tree house window. Squinting, he pushed himself up on one elbow and drank deeply. He coughed and water spat out of his mouth. The water hurt his parched throat and he could barely swallow. They’d had a case of water so how could they have run out already?
    “ Last one, what?” He managed to get out.
    “ He threw water on me,” Winston said.
    “ You smell like a skunk.”
    “ That’s the zombies, derp-brain.”
    “ What?” Tom was confused.
    “ You’ve slept since yesterday. A lot of things have happened,” Emmett said.
    “ Yesterday?” He didn’t feel like he slept at all. He felt more like he’d been beaten with a 2x4 and then thrown into a deep rocky pit. Something smelled really bad, and he sniffed the air around the twins. It was choking. Winston pointed down toward the yard, his voice shook, “We have a big problem.”
    Tom turned his head in the direction of Winston’s outstretched finger and realized that the smell wasn’t the twins. The smell of rotting hamburger that hung in the air told him how screwed they were. Tom gave up trying to count. “It’s not safe here anymore, damn it.”
    “ I could have told you that,” Emmett said.
    “ You’re right. I should have known. I should have expected that.”
    “ You’re admitting I’m right?” Emmett said, genuinely surprised.
    “ Don’t get used to it.”
    Winston held the shovel out to Tom, “How many can you get with the shovel?”
    “ What if they grab the shovel again?” Tom said, not wanting to admit that it was his mistake the first time.
    “ We can’t stay here,” Winston said and put the shovel down with the blade stuck between floorboards so it stood up.
    “ Really? We know that,” Tom replied.
    “ What if we use the ladder as a bridge?” Emmett asked. “Can you try to make it to the garage roof again?”
    Tom held onto the shovel and used it to stand up; oh, how his back ached. “No way. Could you even make it? I don’t think it’s strong enough, even if we crossed one at a time.”
    Winston stared out at the roof of the garage and across the yards. “We have to try something, or we’re going to die up here. There has to be a way.”
    “ We don’t even know where we