You're Hoping For A Taste

“The roof!” Justin blurts out. His eyes are so wide I'm worried that his eye balls will just roll out of their sockets.

None of us need to reply; we know what he means. The roof is our best bet for escape, or even just safety.

We storm up the stairs, Kellin taking them two at a time. In the master bedroom I begin shoving my things into my backpack. Thankfully, I hadn't taken a lot of stuff out, just a few bits and bobs, but it feels like my hands won't work, my fingers fumbling and dropping things. I don't have time to be clumsy.

All the while I can hear the pounding downstairs, over and over and over again. There's no order to it all, it's just constant. Oh god I hope they don't get in.

“This way,” Jesse says, just a blur in the doorway as he hurries on. I follow him into another bedroom, a child's bedroom, and my throat constricts at the sight of it. But I don't have time for that now, I don't have time.

The others are gathered round the window, Gabe leaning out and looking up. He ducks his head back into the room and says quietly and urgently, “There's like a porch roof just outside this window we can stand on, then we can climb up onto the roof from there.”

Kellin rushes into the room, our arsenal of guns cradled in his arms, ammo boxes balanced precariously on top. He scurries over to the bed and dumps them there. “We need these,” he says, “I'll go last and pass them up onto the roof.”

Still trying to sacrifice himself for others. Still trying to play the hero. He doesn't meet my eye.

“I'll help,” Jesse says. His tone is firm, his eyes hard as he looks at Kellin.

“Okay, I'll go first,” Gabe says, one leg already out the window.

“Wait,” I call out, realising something. I drag my backpack off my shoulder and start rummaging through it. “Will this help?” I pull out a length of rope, still neatly tied up, just how I found it. “I salvaged it from an outdoors kinda shop. I've never used it.”

Gabe's eyes light up. He holds out a hand. “That's great, pass it here.”

I chuck it to him and he catches it before leaning back out the window. He finds purchase on the porch roof outside, but still I find myself holding my breath, just waiting for him to fall into the thrashing bodies below. Do they know we're up here, making a break for it? Probably not, they're not that smart, but they know we're in here, somewhere, and that's all that matters to them. They won't stop till the doors are caved in and the windows smashed to pieces.

We watch as Gabe attempts to pull himself up onto the roof. His legs swing wildly for a second, dangling in mid-air, and I'm terrified the guttering will break. But it doesn't, and one foot finds the jutting out section of wall next to it. He scrabbles around a bit, heaving himself upwards, and then he completely disappears from view.

We wait with bated breath. Goosebumps prickle my arms. The pounding goes on.

A rope suddenly swings down and Jesse reaches out to grab it. Yet instead of stepping out the window, he gestures for me to come forward.

I stand there for a second. As much as I want to get out of this house, to safety, I also don't want to fall to my death. I don't know if I can do this.

I can't keep standing here looking gormless though, so I step forward, taking the rope from Jesse. I glance back; I can't help it. Justin smiles reassuringly. Kellin watches me. His features look frozen, his hair messy, sticking out in all directions. But then the ice cracks, and he manages a smile. Yet it doesn't look genuine; more pained. He's afraid. For him? For me? I don't know.

I turn to the window. The night air hits me, cold and sharp. I bend slightly, dipping through the gap. The tiny portion of roof outside slopes downwards, and my foot feels as though it could just slip at any second. I clutch the rope so hard my knuckles are white. I swear to god I'm going to have a heart attack soon.

Gabe's head appears over the edge of the roof above me. “Got it?” he mouths.

I nod. I don't know what the rope's tied to up there, but I hope it's sturdy.

I find grip on the wall to my left, using it to push myself up with one foot while I pull myself up using the rope. My arms are screaming, my legs are screaming, my stomach muscles are screaming. Yet I don't scream, I can't scream.

Once I can rest my arms on the gutter, Gabe reaches forward and grabs me, dragging me onto the roof. I can feel my skin being scraped raw by the roof tiles, but I would do anything just to be up here.

I manage to sit up, feeling as though gravity will drag me off the roof at any second. I hitch my backpack further up my shoulder – thank fuck that didn't fall off – and Gabe gives me a hopeful thumbs up; I give him one in return.

Jack and Justin climb up next without any problems, but each time I feel like I'm going to be sick with worry. Gabe has tied the rope to the chimney stack, and I know it'll hold, but what if it doesn't? All I can think about is it cracking, fissures carving their paths, and then the whole stack collapsing, and the rope skittering past mine and Gabe's scrabbling hands, and the terrified scream as one of the guys falls and falls and falls and collides with the outstretched arms of the horde below.

With Justin and Jack safely on the roof, Jesse begins carefully handing our belongings and weapons up to us. The boys take them one by one and pass them to me, where I neatly stack them against the chimney, making sure none slide away.

Jesse climbs up next. At one point he almost loses grip on the rope, but the others are there to grab him and haul him up.

Last but not least, it's Kellin's turn. For this I can't keep myself away from the edge of the roof. I peer over, my hands digging into the gutter, not caring how dirty it is. Kellin's head pops out the window. He looks down, his hair ruffled wildly by the harsh wind, then up at us. He looks scared. You can see it burning in his eyes.

He grabs hold of the rope and steps out onto the porch roof. He starts pulling himself up, one hand in front of the other, using the wall beside him to push himself upwards.

And then suddenly his foot slips on the wall, and his grip loosens on the rope. His eyes are wide, so wide, and Gabe and Justin and Jesse and Jack, they're all scrambling forward, desperately reaching out for Kellin as he swings violently in mid-air.

I can't move. I'm frozen again. My eyes are fixed on him. I want to watch him make it safely to the roof, but I don't want to watch him fall away from me, fall into the arms of the Dead. I can't lose him.

Justin is beside me when he suddenly lunges forward, his hand clamping onto Kellin's wrist. But Justin's thrown his weight too hard, and he begins tipping over the edge. I frantically reach for him, grabbing onto his leg, but what use will I be? He's too heavy for me, and I realise that I'm going to lose not just Kellin but Justin too. I will lose them both in one night knowing that I wasn't strong enough to save them; I let them die.

Then Jesse is there, then Jack, then Gabe, and the four of us tug desperately on Justin, dragging him back onto the roof. All the while Justin keeps his hand wrapped round Kellin's wrist, and the Walkers below remain oblivious, throwing themselves at the windows. There's a shattering sound, and the Walkers begin fighting forward; they've broken a window. They're in.

We get Justin on the roof, then we all reach for Kellin. He now has both hands wrapped around the rope, his legs dangling and swinging for purchase in the air, but there is none. But we have him, we have him, and we drag him onto the roof beside us, like dragging a drowning man from the savagery of the ocean and the sharks.

He sits there shaking, and whether it's from cold or fear I don't know. The others sit back, panting from exertion, their faces weary. I move closer to Kellin, and he meets my eyes. For one grim moment, the eyes that look back at me aren't Kellin's. They're wide and terrified and fragile, and he looks so much younger than he is, so much more vulnerable.

With shaking fingers, he reaches out towards me and brushes my hair from my face. That look in his eyes begins to fade, and he comes back to me.

“You alright?” I whisper as loudly as I dare.

He swallows hard and shuts his eyes, nodding in answer. “Yeah,” he breathes. “I'm fine.”

I've never seen him like that, and I never want to again.

* * *

We sit in a line on the roof. Beneath us, in the house, the Walkers stumble around. There's the sound of things breaking, the relentless groans. They must be able to smell us by now, they just can't work out where we are.

An hour passes. The sky begins to get lighter. I sit shivering in my many layers of clothing I pulled from my backpack. Kellin watches me for a minute, then gingerly shuffles closer and wraps his arm around me. I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, but I can't sleep; none of us can. We don't talk.

The sound of an engine is carried towards us by the breeze. I open my eyes, sit up straighter. Our plan was to wait up here for the Walkers to either give up and wander somewhere else, or to hope that someone else comes along and draws them away involuntarily. Now it seems the latter is happening.

The driver is gunning the engine, careening down the road. Two pinpricks of light come speeding closer, growing as the car closes the distance between us. They're followed by three more sets of headlights. I begin to feel uneasy. This could go so wrong.

We exchange looks, a mixture of hope and wariness, as the cars get closer. Just when we think they're about to pass us, they skid to a stop outside the house, brakes squealing. Walkers begin to tumble from the house, loping for the fresh meat that's arrived. Other Walkers who had wandered off come stumbling back.

The car doors fly open, and out step people, guns ready. They open fire, and the suddenness of it makes me jump. Who are these people?

They mow down the Walkers with bullets, making it look like easy work. There are around fifteen people, so much fewer than the Walkers, but it doesn't seem to matter to them. They slaughter the Walkers till there are only stragglers left. They pick them off one by one like this is just a shooting video game.

We look on, completely stunned. Then the attention of our saviours turns to us.

A man saunters forward, his rifle leaning casually against his shoulder. It reminds me of Kellin when we went to Walmart. It feels so long ago now, but instead of feeling safe, protected, knowing someone I trusted had my back, I now feel cautious and unsure.

“We'll get you guys down from there,” he calls up to us, “and take you somewhere safe for tonight.”

Who are these people?