Duncan turned at the top of the stairs to see if Jenna was following. A hand closed over his shoulder, and Simeon groaned.
He hurled Duncan into the opposite wall. The world leapt out of focus as Duncan's head smacked off the wood, and he felt Simeon grappling with him. The widowmaker — where the fuck was it?
Jenna grabbed Bailey around the neck. He bit into her wrist and she closed her teeth around his ear. Prying him up off of Voorhees, a scream building in her chest, Jenna walked her fingers up the rotter's papery gray face and plunged them into his eye sockets. They went in much easier than she'd expected. Bailey began flailing in a panic.
"Get off of him!!" Voorhees cried. "I don't have a shot!"
"Don't — need — one!" Jenna growled, and she brought Bailey's head down on the marble floor with a sharp CRACK. Then another, and another — brackish brain matter erupted from his skull, and he stiffened. Paralyzed and blind, Bailey spat up a mouthful of bile and lay silent.
Duncan let out a cry from upstairs.
He was lying on the widowmaker — its cold steel dug into his back as Simeon tried to bite his throat. He heaved the rotter down the stairs and rolled over to retrieve the blade.
Simeon sat up — Voorhees pumped the shotgun-
Duncan whipped the widowmaker down the staircase and into Simeon's eye. A good third of his face was sheared away. Voorhees blasted him across the foyer.
He and Jenna headed upstairs to join Duncan…
And outside, the dark man was trying to hold the gates closed, but was pushed back by the undead mob. They came at him en masse. He rose, scythe in hand, to face them for the last time.
43
The Cavalry
On the second-floor landing, Voorhees stopped the others and pointed downstairs.
A few ferals had entered the foyer. Their glassy eyes met those of the living.
"I've got this." The cop muttered. "Find Lily, and stay with her."
It was then that Tetch rounded the corner and emptied the.22 into Duncan.
Mark made a quarter-turn and slumped over the railing overlooking the foyer. He looked into the eyes of the ferals below. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, Jenna was screaming. Suddenly feeling heavy, he slumped to the carpet.
Voorhees, halfway down the stairs, fired a shot and opened the wallpaper beside Tetch's head. He retreated to the hall from whence he'd come. Jenna heard his feet on stairs as she fell beside Duncan; and saw that Mark was dead, and she felt the last of the terrible scream scraping through her throat and past her teeth.
It was quiet in the house.
Voorhees whirled around and blew a rotter's chest open. It caught hold of the banister and held its ground. Voorhees dug through his pockets. No more shells. "I'm-"
Jenna was gone.
The rotter grabbed his arms. He threw it down the stairs and swung the shotgun like a club into the next zombie's skull. The widowmaker, down in the foyer — and more undead crowding through the front door…
He steeled himself and charged down the stairs.
On the third floor, Jenna's feet clapped down in a layer of dust. She searched the darkness: there were several doors, all of them slightly ajar. She recalled distinctly the clicking of Tetch's empty pistol before he'd fled the scene of Mark's death. "You don't have a gun," she whispered, a sob threatening to break her voice.
He threw open the nearest door and flew at her.
They slammed into the opposite wall with a fearful racket, dust falling in torrents; he slapped her across the face, grabbed at her neck. He pressed all his weight against her.
She bit into the webbing between his thumb and forefinger. He howled, trying to jerk his hand back, but she clenched her jaw as tightly as she could and gave him entire body a shove — his hand tore open like crepe paper. Blood followed him across the hall in an arc. His head cracked off the wall-
And he was on her again. He shouted incoherently and snatched her throat in his good hand. She slammed a knee into his groin. He grunted, but held fast. She felt her head crashing into the wall over and over and over, and the world began swimming away, leaving an oppressive blackness. Tetch roared distantly. She fumbled with his arms, his chest — he was hard like a tree and his roots were snarled viciously about her windpipe.
She grabbed his balls through his pants and twisted with the last of her strength.
He released her as his mouth fell open; no sound came out. He seized her wrist. She put her weight into the twist. She could feel his balls squeezing together in her palm. Tetch's eyes filled with tears, feet dancing on the floor. "MURDERER," she rasped.
Something gave.
Tetch fell back, and upon impact he let loose a thousand screams. Her foot caught his gut as he tried to roll into a fetal position. She pried him open and kicked him in the sternum. Fell atop him, raked her nails over his face. Blood beaded on his crimson cheeks, and he let out a tortured cry. She drove her fist into his teeth. Again. Again. His lips were swollen purple and he couldn't scream. His hands swatted feebly at her. She parted them and hit him again. Again and again, and she was going to beat him to death, she knew it-
But
Lily.
Jenna grabbed Tetch's hair and yanked his scalp until he cried. "I will ask you once," she said through her teeth. "Where is she?"
Tetch gave her a broken smile. A senseless, red-and-black broken smile.
It bought him the half-second he needed.
He seized both her breasts in a vise grip and dug his claws into her flesh. Jenna shrieked, and he threw her to the floor, scuttling away like an injured spider. Grabbing a 2x4 lying against the wall, he put everything into the swing.
It folded over her shoulder with a CRACK. Pain exploded through her mind. He grabbed her hair and slammed the broken board over her taut stomach. WHAP! She grabbed at her hair, her abdomen, she kicked her feet — her legs went limp as he hit her again. WHAP!
"You came for my little girl?!"
WHAP!
"You think you can take her from me?!"
WHAP!
"You think you can take ANYTHING from me?!"
WHAP!
He dragged her across the floor. Shock gave way to burning pain across her torso. Pulling her through a door into one of the empty rooms, Tetch twisted her blonde locks around his fist. Every inch of her scalp screamed with agony. She was sure that it was all about to come off — that he'd rip the skin from her head with his bare hands…
He let go. He let go and kicked her in the back of the head. She slumped forward. The 2x4 finally snapped in half when it struck her forehead.
Tetch straddled her. "Oh. Oh god." He saw the blood soaking through the crotch of his pants. More blood dripped from his nose and mouth onto her face. He smeared it over her eyes. "Kill you. I'll kill you. Right now." He grabbed her breast, clamped his fingers around her nipple. She groaned, eyes half-shut — he twisted and they opened wide.
She slammed her palm into his chin. He spit on her, and she elbowed him off, bringing both fists down on his back. He coughed up blood and began a desperate crawl across the room. She followed relentlessly, beating on his head, until he stopped, about to collapse.
But he wasn't. He turned and slugged her in the nose. It popped audibly.
She stumbled to the floor. It creaked as Tetch leapt back onto her and began pummelling her face with renewed vigor. Each strike brought a flash of light, and she let her hands fall at her sides, thinking of Mark dead downstairs. Her head was thick with blood and pain and she wanted to be free, with him. Tetch's gleeful cries faded.
The floor yawned and gave way beneath them.
She landed flat on her back, knocking the wind from her lungs — he landed on his knees and felt knives erupting through his legs and spine.