Page 45 of Slayer Mom
I stared at him then shook my head. “I’m not listening to you. The servant of the zombie queen is my enemy. Your kind ruined my life.”
“And you were perfectly happy, which is why you ran away.”
“I didn’t run away!” I pulled out my knife and held it ready.
“Lies are not very attractive, even when you believe them. But you don’t. You know that you were running away from your boring marriage, your controlling husband, your ungrateful children. The zombie queen got it all firsthand from your delightful friend, Gloria. Pity I’m not here for her instead of you. You’re a coward who can’t admit—”
I lunged at him and slashed through his arm, which he brought up to block my strike almost negligently. I swung the pan towards his head, but he ducked and stepped back, shaking his head and tsking.
“You interrupted me. How rude.”
“You insulted me. How rude.” I lunged again, but he stepped to the side and kicked my knife hand away.
Fighting him was not like fighting the usual deteriorating zombie. The Grand Master was right about my job being extermination instead of fighting.
He raised an arm and frowned sternly while he examined the slash I’d cut into the coat. It was not bloody. It should have been bloody.
“I will have to get a patch for it. Should I get a patch out of your skin, or shall I use your robe? Is there anything interesting beneath it? It doesn’t look like it, but looks can be deceiving.”
“Seriously? You come into my kitchen in themiddle of the night and insult my robe? Who do you think you are?”
“No, it’s who do you think that you are? But you don’t. You don’t think at all, and now I’m late.” He frowned and turned towards the doors. “For a very important, oh good. They’re here.”
The windows and doors exploded and zombies came pouring in. The guy in the pale suit hopped up on the counter and started doing a little shuffling dance. Was it tap? Oh, right, Wonderland, the ‘we’re all mad here’ thing. How charming. I was going to kill them all.
I certainly killed a lot of them. I was getting positively efficient at the extermination. Everything went blurry while I fought, and the stupid man on the counter danced and sang annoyingly. The sound of a chainsaw took my attention off the zombies directly around me. I glanced past the zombie whose brain I’d just shoved my knife through and saw my husband cutting a literal swathe through the horde in the kitchen’s doorway, chainsaw in one hand, golf club in the other, and the rest of him covered in hockey practice gear. That’s right. He’d coached hockey one year. He was going to die.
I worked harder, killing faster, pushing myself as I tried to get to him, but he was holding his own, and maybe if I was close, it would be harder for him to use the chainsaw to its full potential, except that his back was unguarded. I could do something about that.
I smashed my way through the masses and slipped behind him far enough to give us both fighting room.
“What is that freak doing on your counter?” Hazen demanded, sounding appalled.
Moments like that were incredibly validating. “I think it’s a tap dance?”
“These monsters are getting more and more irritating all the time.”
“Agreed. What are you doing here?” I asked breathlessly, swinging my dagger again.
“Killing zombies.”
“Right, but you weren’t home.”
“I wasn’t. When I pulled in, I smelled something weird, so I checked in and then geared up when I saw what was happening. You smell very strongly of nutmeg.”
“Thanks. That’s the zombie marking.”
“I guess it could be worse. Could be sulphur or eggplant.”
“What does eggplant even smell like? I’m sorry that you had to see all of this.”
“You kicking butt or the tap dance show?”
“Our house getting turned into a zombie slaughterhouse.”
“Ever since you left, I haven’t cared for it. Maybe we should lock them all inside and burn it down.”
“They already broke the windows, the ones that are supposed to be bullet proof.”
