I looked over at the gas station. The frenzy from earlier had died, and most of them were now standing uselessly, waiting for something to draw their attention. I looked down at the group surrounding the house upon which I stood. There were over a hundred, but this still only represented a small portion of the massive horde teeming over at the gas station.
I began moving a large pile of shingles I had stacked in the middle of the roof to the very edge. I carried load after load, until the pile sat almost 2 feet high. As I worked the ghouls below me went into a frenzy, hearing me move across the roof but unable to reach me. They scratched at the siding and pulled on the window frames, but were unable to climb up. Standing at the peak of the roof I looked down. Scratching the surface of one of the tiles with a loose nail, I watched as the sound attracted them like a magnet.
Once a large group was below me I shoved the entire pile off the edge. It collapsed on top of several of them and stirred up the others like a hornet's nest. They lunged violently toward the sound, slamming into each other with incredible force. Soon almost the entire group was frantically pressing forward, eager for their share of whatever had fallen to the ground. I stood up, looking behind me at my path to the next block. Only a few infected remained, shambling weakly in no particular direction. Beyond them, two more wandered through the street. If I was going to go, now was the time.
I moved quickly but silently, stepping on the edge of my foot and rolling my sole downward to reduce the noise of each footstep. As I reached the middle I grabbed a small stack of shingles and made my way back to the end of the roof where I had climbed up earlier. I looked down. It was at least a 10 foot drop, and I couldn't risk touching the fence for fear of drawing attention of those I had successfully distracted already. I held my breath and jumped down onto the soft grass, landing with my feet close together and rolling to the side to prevent my ankles from twisting. Almost any injury would seal my fate, and I was determined to survive. I ducked low and ran past an overweight woman wearing a cheap jogging suit. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and the baby blue velour fabric of her suit was stained and dirty. She moved slow and it was easy to get past her. Even when she was alive she probably wasn't much of a runner.
Ahead of me lurked a tall redhaired boy no older than a teenager, wearing a red shirt and black athletic shorts. His curly hair was a stark contrast to his pale skin. The black rimmed glasses on his face hung loosely off one ear and he snarled as I moved toward him. I dodged to the right but he lunged toward me with lightning speed, curling his long pale fingers around my shirt. I stepped backward but his grip held firm on the pocket of my jacket. Suddenly a shot rang out from the rooftop above and I felt the sticky goo of his brain matter splash across my cheeks. He slumped to the ground and a tireless heap and I stepped over the body, glancing up toward the roof of my apartment building. The once observer now turned protector gave me a wave before shouldering his rifle and resumed his elevated vigilance. I waved back and turned up the street, running as fast as I could without making noise.
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