The last of the living to come forward was an eight year old boy. His chest rose and fell hard as he wept and gasped for breath. He stepped toward the group and was thrust into the air at the hands of a tattered, grey corpse. Troy threw his knife with swift precision and caught the monster square between the eyes. It staggered backwards and dropped the child who scurried on hands and knees to the arms of his screaming mother. The battle was on and the unmistakable popping of gun fire echoed and bounced off the trees as a precession of undead slithered into view. Men with axes ran at the writhing corpses and they were all separated from their heads.
Rapunzel moved toward the window praying that she would see the moon when she removed the rag tag curtain but rays of sunlight danced across the room and glistened on the stone wall behind her. “We’re going to need to check outside.” She said with hesitation. “He may have come back while we were sleeping. We might not have heard him at the door.” They were certain to bolt the door from the inside after he had left and they would have had to let him back in.