There’s no way you can get anywhere with your foot still in this mangled condition, in desperation you gulp down as many painkillers as you think your body can handle, upending an entire bottle of antiseptic onto your foot even as your fingertips start to numb and your vision swims. Antibiotics will have to wait, and you’re no doctor, just a maimed schoolkid separated from anything, everything you used to know. You shake your head and try to chase away the demons, the fear, the sadness.
You scramble to your feat as the baying, moaning dead draw closer, too close for comfort, speeding up and chewing the air as they move in on you. Even hobbling, you’re just a little faster, stumbling, dragging your wounded foot, leaving damp and sticky patches of fluid, antiseptic and blood as you drag yourself along, more and more of the dead seeming to appear out of the broken shop windows and side streets all the time. The painkillers take the edge off, make you issue a strangled giggle, fleeing in a haze as subdued pain, drugs and infection turn the horrifying world into a nightmarish hallucination.
| What now? | |
| Run into the mouth of the snake? | |
| Pull the duvet over your head until the monsters go away. | |
| Get your mother and father to help carry you away. | |
| Turn into a cloud of butterflies and escape into the wind. | |
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