The sounds of his wife’s screams for help drew him back to the attic entrance. He was about to jump down to aid her when he heard the sounds of the French doors splintering.

“Devon! Get down here and help me. Andy is coming for me!”

“No baby, climb up here. We’ll be safer up here.”

She cursed up a streak that would have made a six-tour marine blush, but rushed into the closet and slammed the door shut behind her. “You son of a bitch, why won’t you come down here?” She said and he started to climb up toward him.

“Because our house is lost, baby, this is going to be the only safe place.” As he spoke, he set down his bat. He reached down and grabbed her arm with both his hands. She was hauled more than climbed toward him.

Behind her, the closet door flung open and Andy grabbed her ankle and leaned in to bite her calf.

Tracy screamed so loud he almost dropped her, but with a powerful jerk he pulled her up and away from Andy’s snapping teeth. Soon he had lifted her slight body into the attic itself.

Beneath him, Andy growled and spat a mist of blood from his red rimmed mouth. Soon he was joined by more of the walking dead that pushed into the closet. All around he heard the sounds of the dead rampaging through his home and destroying everything he owned.

“What are we going to do?” she whispered.

“We’ll see,” was all he said. His hand found hers and silently led her over to the hole in the roof he had created. With a bit more smashing, he widened it up enough for them to push themselves through.

Tracy started to say something, but he made a motion for silence with a finger over his lips. Looking over the side of the roof, he saw that most of the undead in his back yard had funneled into the house seeking their flesh.

A roof covered his back porch and the couple climbed down to it as quietly as possible. Four of the moaning corpses still lingered in the back yard, so Devon jumped onto the back yard first. The closest zombie got a steel baseball bat to the temple. It didn’t get back up.

He rushed as the next two and they suffered a similar fate, as Tracy climbed onto the back porch. He moved in to finish the last one, when Tracy cried out.

“Ahh, Devon help. The ones inside saw me.”

He watched in horror as a half a dozen of the lumbering dead stumbled out of the house only feet from his wife.

“Come on,” he yelled and pushed the last zombie away from him with the end of his bat.

She came running.

He snatched her hand and without a look back, they dashed through his back gate. A lone zombie reached for them, but he hit the thing so hard its neck snapped and the big male zombie fell against the wall with a loud wet thud.

Devon spared one look back at his ravaged house as he grabbed his wife’s hand again and they raced off into the night.

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