I've seen a lot of terrible things today, but nothing compares with this. It's not that Tyler dies more horribly than any of the others who've been torn to pieces. But I sacrificed him. I let Dad bully me, the way I've always done, and now a boy is dead because of it. Because of me.
As the other zombies draw closer, the scent of Tyler's blood luring them on, Dad jerks the door open and bellows triumphantly. Trev and the others squeeze through. Dad dashes back and pulls me away from the awful spectacle of Tyler Bayor being finished off by the undead.
"Come on," Dad pants. "We've got to get out of here."
Dad shoves the Indian kid away from the door and growls at him, "Get out of it, Gandhi. My daughter goes first."
He shoves me through, then follows. The Indian boy's squealing. He tries to wriggle after us but a zombie grabs him. He screeches and reaches out to us, pleading to be saved. Dad sneers, then pushes him back and slams the door shut.
"Help me hold this," he snaps at Trev and Meths. They obey without question, shocked into submission by his viciousness, dominated by the cruelty in his voice, the same way I've been dominated by it all my life.
Dad looks around for something to jam the door with, but there's nothing. "All right," he pants, straining with Trev and Meths to hold back the zombies. "I'm guessing they'll pile up and get stuck. It'll take them a while to sort themselves out. You lot run ahead. We'll hold this a bit longer, then dash after you and hope we get enough of a start on them."
Elephant, Stagger Lee, Seez and the other Muslim boy peel away to the left. They're crying and shaking but they push on, freedom all but guaranteed now.