My heart beats wildly as I look around. Molly’s lit her flashlight and is shining it around, lighting up the place. We’re in a tunnel, stretching on as far as the eye can see. It seems like some kind of storage place, with wooden crates stacked haphazardly around. It’s made of brick and is dank, molded with mildew. It stinks of rat and death down here.

Though we have no idea where it is leading us, we have no choice to but to follow the tunnel. The crazies will get through the trapdoor sooner or later. Going forward is the only way to avoid certain death.

We run through the tunnel as fast as we can, our flashlights lighting the way, bouncing and making shadows dance all around us in a crazy flashing pattern. It’s like we’re in some kind of nightmare discotheque.

From the other end of the tunnel, the way we’d just come, we hear the sound of cracking wood, followed by thuds as the crazies drop through the trapdoor to the ground. Once again, the hunt is on. I can only pray that there isn’t more danger at the other end of this tunnel.

I can hear the crazies’ footsteps gaining on us. My whole body is tense, pumping with adrenaline. I don’t want to die down here in this dark, smelly tunnel.

As my feet pound against the cement floor, I feel something brush past my leg. My first instinct is a rat, but it was far too big for that. It’s then that I realize Jack is heading back the way we came, running straight for the crazies. Penelope is running right after him, eager to join the fight too. I turn my flashlight on them and see them both baring their fangs, aiming for the crazies’ throats. The sight is so gruesome it turns my stomach. I’m also terrified for their safety. They’re both so small and fragile in comparison to the crazies.

I fire off some rounds of ammunition to help out, but I know it’s not enough. If I want to stop the crazies from pursuing us, I’ll have to think of something drastic.

“Guys!” I shout ahead. “We need to create a blockade with the crates.”

“We can’t stop!” Zeke shouts back. “They’re too close.”

But I know we’re not going to make it if we keep running. We still can’t see the end of the tunnel. We don’t even know what’s at the end of it. It could be leading us to a brick wall for all we know.

Ignoring his warning, I start knocking the crates with my arm as I go. They tumble down to the ground, splintering and spilling their contents onto the floor. Coal. Stacks and stacks of it. Seeing it gives me my second burst of inspiration.