The Lightkeepers

17

one magazine. I had maybe five rounds left, including the one in the chamber, something I kept in

mind as shouldered the gun and sent a round into the approaching zombie. How he managed to get

up here, I couldn ’ t say. He was missing an arm and his torso was lacerated. He went down, a hole

between his eyes. Blood and other innards splattered on the wall. Our shots reverberated off the

stone walls of the lighthouse. We alternated our shots, taking out the ones too close to the missing

stairs.

My heart sank.

Henry was out of ammunition. I leaned over the railing and sighted in another target. The

last bullet soared through the air in a blink. The zombie ’ s head snapped back as he dropped to the

floor with a wet thud. I ejected the magazine and reloaded, resuming my fierce fight.

For the most part, the horde hadn ’ t managed to overcome the gap in the staircase, or the

barbed-wires that lined what we deemed the ground-level foyer. Bodies littered the space, both

unmoving and squirming. We kept some things down there, but only the things we could live

without if need be, like that wooden chair we “ borrowed ” from the old keeper ’ s quarters.

“ Rae, you ’ re gonna be okay, okay? ” I stopped and looked at Henry. It was then that I

realized the wetness rolling down my face, a silent protest to my actions. I nodded and glanced

over the railing again.

Nothing was there. Shadows cast strange figures over the empty room. The chair became

a hunched over beast. One long, feathering shadow reached toward me, but other than that, there

was nothing there.

Music played softly from somewhere, almost sounding like Alan Menken ’ s work: light-

hearted and magical. Innocent and child-like. I ’ ve heard it before, but couldn ’ t place it. It was from

a movie, from before, but where exactly had I heard it? The world around me transformed, bathed

in light like a stained glass. The gun vanished from my hands.

And then there was everything all at once. They closed in on us, moaning, screeching in

that mutated way they do. One slashed my arm. Another grabbed Henry. I craned my neck and

toppled over, crashing into the banister. The cool metal dug into my back, poking at the aching

spot that never ceased to hurt. I gripped it with sweaty palms, my knuckles white as my chest

heaved. The circle of monsters was slowly closing in on me. Henry was completely obstructed

from my sight.

Maybe he was never there. Or maybe they ’ d finished him.