Page 10 of My Apocalypse Mountain Man
He stares at me. "You want to throw fire at zombies. In a snowstorm. While defending a wooden cabin."
"You have a better idea?"
"Actually, no."
We work quickly, filling bottles with diesel, stuffing cloth wicks. It's dangerous and probably stupid, but we're out of good options.
"On three?" I suggest, lighter in hand.
"Wait." Kole reaches out, his hand covering mine. "If this goes wrong—"
"It won't."
We light the Molotovs and throw them into the largest group of zombies. The effect is immediate and horrifying. Fire spreadsamong the closely packed bodies, and the moaning becomes something worse. But it works. The burning zombies stumble and fall, taking others down with them.
"The speakers!" I shout, realizing the fire is spreading toward one of our devices.
"Leave it!"
But I'm already running, sliding through the snow toward the endangered equipment. I hear Kole cursing behind me, then his footsteps following. I reach the speaker just as a burning zombie lurches toward me.
Kole's axe takes its head off before it can grab me.
"That was stupid," he growls.
"But effective." I hold up the speaker. "We might need this."
"Not if you're dead."
"I'm not dead."
"You almost were."
"But I'm not."
We're standing very close, both breathing hard, and suddenly the danger and adrenaline transform into something else entirely. He reaches up, brushes ash from my cheek with surprising gentleness.
"Don't do that again," he says softly.
"Which part?"
"The part where you almost die for equipment we can replace."
"Can we replace it though?"
"Sierra."
The way he says my name, not Goldfinch but Sierra, makes my knees weak.
A moan behind us breaks the moment. Three more zombies are approaching, and beyond them, dozens more.
"Inside," Kole orders.
"But—"
"Inside. Now."
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