Page 25 of Uprising

“Rule one: never underestimate them, even if it’s just one. They have the upper hand; they willalwayshave the upper hand.”

Noah nods his head as if he’s listening, but I doubt he is. I knew it was going to be difficult to train him, but I had no idea it was going to be like this. Though I should have known, Noah doesn’t listen to much.

“Rule two: if you don’t think you can take it, run. It’s better to get away than to fight something that's not possible.”

“Then I’m running,” Noah blurts out.

“Noah, look at me.”

His eyes dart from the dead thing to me. Widening with fear and searching for some escape that he doesn’t realize he can only give himself. It doesn’t take a genius to see his hands tremble, wanting to grab onto anything to keep him grounded. In that moment, something clicked inside my brain, I need to be his anchor.

“I’m not going anywhere; I’m right here, every step of the way.” For once I find my own voice soothing. Something I never thought would happen. I ignore the little part of me that wants to take care of the dead guy myself, but Noah is only going to learn one way or the other.

“Reed, I?—”

“You can do this; I told you, I’m right behind you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

I’m not sure he realizes he’s nodding his head or the fact that he’s stepping back. His grip tightens around the mallet. Noah’s eyes are no longer focused on me; instead, they’re on the thing behind me.

“You can do this.” I hear Noah whisper to himself. My lips tilt into a small smile under my muzzle.

“Rule three: always aim for the head; nothing else will stop them.” Noah nods his head as I speak, letting me know that he’s listening. “Keep your feet apart; you need to keep your balance when you swing.”

I watch Noah widen his stance, his knuckles white as he tightens his grip on the mallet's handle. The zombie shambles toward us, its movements jerky. To me this would be an easy kill, a simple hit to the temple while I’m just walking by. But Noah, it's a whole new ballgame. When I first saw him, I thought maybe for a split second he knew what he was doing. Clearly he doesn’t.

“I–I’m not sure; I really don’t know if I can do this,” he mutters, his voice too shaky for my liking.

“Yes, you can. You can do anything you put your mind to. Trust me to believe in you, and you can do it.” My tone leaves no room for argument. Though knowing Noah, if he wasn’t in a small life-or-death situation, he would turn around and fight with me. He would throw a fit and call me an asshole again.

“You got my back?” Noah asks.

“I’m right here,” I remind him. “Steady now, remember, head first and always. Now when it’s close enough, swing with everything you have. Think of your worst memory and channel that anger.”

The zombie snarls, parts of its jaw hanging loose. I’m used to the dead. Being a hitman before the world went to shit does something to you. It hardens you, shapes you into someone different. Unrecognizable to most.

“Oh shit,” Noah squeaks. Pulling my attention back to him and the zombie, I watch his back tense and the slight shake in his legs.

“You got this; I’m right here.”

The zombie gets within four feet, and with a cry of terror and complete hesitation, he swings the mallet. I cringe, knowing full well that he’s swung too soon.

“Ah, fuck,” Noah cries.

“Again!” I bark.

Noah jerks back, his movements sloppy as the voice in his head screams at him. The zombie shuffles forward, close enough that when Noah swings again, more determined than before, this time he connects with a sickening crunch. The dead guy crumples to the ground, though he twitches, his teeth chowing towards Noah’s leg.

“I–I did it,” Noah cheers. He turns around, a wide smile plastered to his face.

“He’s not dead,” I point out. Noah jerks back, his head swinging towards the zombie on the ground. “You need to kill the brain; he’ll just keep coming back until you do.”

Noah hesitates for a moment before he swings the mallet down on the thing's head. Unfortunately, he barely makes a dent in it.

“Noah, get angry; when you see these things, you need to hate it with every fiber of your being.”

Noah peeks at me over his shoulder, his eyes telling me he’s listening to every word that I’m saying. This time when he turns back around, his back flexes as he brings the mallet down. The moment the weapon hits the lurker's head, his skull breaks open, rotten brain matter flying everywhere. Noah swings again, completely destroying the thing's head.

“D–did I do it?” Noah's gaze stays on the zombie.

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