Nightshift 49: Bath and Beauty Shop

[promisedawhale]

[from here]The sickening feeling, the small bit of head-spinning and Brook was able to take things in. He might start getting used to the weird sensation sooner or later depending on how many times they kept playing chance with the doorways. This time though, Brook found himself more interested in the area they'd found themselves in than in making

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[fourstonewalls]

Lana was only too happy to follow Gant to the door; as rattled as he was, his instincts were still the same as hers: the finely-honed caution (some would say paranoia) of the professional investigator.  She backed towards the door, keeping an eye -- and a flashlight -- trained in the direction where she'd last seen movement.

She moved quickly, as fas as she could without tripping over the bottles and canisters that littered the floor.  It was almost fast enough.  A form lurched out of the darkness, arms extended.  Her flashlight was pointing directly at what would have been its face if it had had enough of one left to be called that.  Oh, God, they're real.  And moving fast.  What do I...dammit, we weren't trained for this.  Damon had the door open -- all they needed was an extra few seconds.  One single shot.

"Go.  Find her."  He knew who she meant.  She stopped, and stood her ground.  As soon as she did, calm settled on her shoulders like a favorite coat.  She breathed from her stomach, like they'd learned in basic, and struck.  Take that!  She wasn't quite as composed as she would have claimed; she lashed out with the flashlight, not the candlestick, dropping her effective reach.  It connected with a sickening crunch across the forearm of the thing.  Both bones snapped, but the claws still moved, and raked across her own arm as sinew whipped around metal.  The zombie did, however, stumble back a pace, whimpering.  So did Lana, stumbling backwards through the door.

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