We're Going to Need a Bigger Axe

“You’re bleeding darlin’.” Dad said, worry in his eyes. He was looking at my left arm where a tenacious zombie had taken a bite. It looked worse than it was.

“I’m fine Dad, really. There’s no time to bandage me up.” I replied, glancing at mom who had walked into the room with the first aid kit. “I need you to get your stuff and come back with us. I’ll tell you what I know on the way.” Dad nodded and began gathering up his necromancy gear.

“We’ll need to lead them back to the cemetery so I can take care of them.” he said to Liam.

“We’ll worry about that when we get there.” I said.

As we headed for the truck, I took a little detour through the garden. There was a weathered old axe embedded in a tree stump near the fence. I looked up to watch my father carefully stow his equipment in the back of the truck. I could tell he was working out some kind of plan to Rest them humanely.

But I hadn’t told him how many there were yet.

With a sigh, I pulled the axe from the stump and joined Dad and Liam in the truck.

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