Sirens of the Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Since the Sirens Read Free Page B

open the screen door, and was dismayed
to see how far open she needed it just so she could gain enough
leverage to open the heavier inside door. It was taking too much
time! She gave the door a push and was relieved to see it slowly
swing open into the kitchen. Now all she had to do was move out of
the screen door's path and close it before Angie returned from her
screaming attack on the window. It disturbed Marty deeply to hear
such anger and pain, but it also scared her half to death knowing she
didn't have anything between her and the inside of the house but a
slowly closing and flimsy aluminum screen door.
    It latched shut with a satisfying click, but now she felt the
panic rising. There was Angie, flailing to the door soon thereafter.
    Oh heavens!
    Standing there she nearly forgot what she was supposed to be
doing, but she regained her wits enough to pull the rope from around
her neck and get it into position. She had no idea what to expect of
this plan, as she had absolutely no experience breaking screen doors.
Would the whole thing collapse outward? Would Angie kick it open?
Would Angie accidentally hit the latch to open the door like a normal
person? So many variables ran through her head as she stood inches
away from danger.
    And then the screen lining ripped near the top where Angie was
beating it with her fists. This encouraged her to instinctively lean
into the broken screen as if to push through it and try to step out.
As Angie's head came out of the screen, Marty pulled a simple rope
trick that any of those ranch hands would applaud unabashedly, city
slicker or not—she looped the lasso loop over Angie's poking
head and pulled it tight. If Angie noticed it she gave no
indication—but continued trying to free herself of the door.
Marty grabbed her cane and started walking as fast as her orthopedic
shoes would carry her, knowing Angie was absolutely going to make it
outside. It was all part of her plan.
    The other end of the loop was tied to the only thing of any weight
close enough to her back door – her porch swing. It was a
freestanding model that could be moved around pretty easily by a
couple of people. She'd seen it moved many times over the years, but
usually it took a pretty good effort on the part of the movers
because it was shaped so awkwardly. By tying off the rope to that
swing, she ensured Angie would be encumbered by the apparatus and if
she was really lucky, it would hold her long enough to walk around
front and backtrack through the house to shut the rear door again.
    Lots of ifs.
    5
    Marty's plan started out exactly as she intended.
    Angie came screaming and flailing out the door, and there was a
remote opportunity for Angie to grab Marty before she was able to
clear the distance the rope allowed Angie to run. While Angie
stumbled, stood up, and lunged at her—she was silently lifting
and pushing her cane, trundling forward to save her life. She managed
to get clear of the rope's length but was dismayed to see how easily
the swing was shifting under the weight of a plague-driven nurse.
Angie was slightly above average in height and weight for a woman of
her age, but the sickness seemed to give her some added oomph even as
it took away some of her mass.
    It wasn't long and Marty was out through the front gate of the
yard, making her way between the two redstone flats. She was very
dizzy from the effort, and suddenly had to lean against the house for
a full minute while she regained her bearings and settled her vision.
She didn't make it very far up the corridor, and she sensed it,
despite her groggy condition. Angie meanwhile had been moving angrily
in her direction the whole time. She had made it through the
gate—Marty had left it open in her haste!—and had managed
to drag the swing half the distance from the porch. Marty could hear
the swing slide off the concrete into the grass, hoping that would
slow her down as she rested.
    The fog lifted just enough, and Marty was able to take one