Foamers by Justin Kassab Page A

had formed imprints
in his hands.
    He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and then gave Grace a nod. She knocked twice,
and when there was no response, opened the door and moved out of the way. Kade filled
the doorway, aiming down the barrel. At his feet, a red-haired foamer dressed in
a puffy pink coat and black yoga pants was on the floor by the door. The young foamer
sprang to life and threw herself at him. She slammed into his ribs, under the shotgun,
knocking Kade across the corridor into the far wall. As he stumbled to get his balance,
the foamer lunged at him, teeth bared.
    Grace stepped between them and kicked the foamer in the chest. The foamer ran on
all fours down the hallway.
    Argos snagged her foot in his jaws. The foamer corkscrewed around and slammed her
free foot into Argos’s nose, breaking his grip. She scrambled away with Argos in
pursuit.
    Kade called Argos off as he ran down the hallway. The moment Argos passed him, Kade
leveled the shotgun at the running foamer. She was out of lethal range, but he was
out of time. She was almost at the exit doors. He pulled the trigger and the shotgun
kicked into his shoulder as the scattershot barreled down the hall. They peppered
into her pink coat, off the walls around her, and a cluster buried themselves into
her cheek. She burst through the door, which flew open on its hinges, and slammed
shut.
    Kade skidded to a stop and pulled out his walkie. “Foamer in the stairwell.”
    Grace rubbed his back with cuffed hands. “You okay?”
    He worked the shotgun action, discharging the red casing. “I’m sick of foamers.”
    * * *
    Victoria pushed the handle down and rapped her knuckles against the door. Tiny gave
her a nod. Swinging the door open, Victoria moved to the side, and Tiny stepped in
with the stock of her assault rifle tucked to her shoulder, scanning the room.
    “Clear,” Tiny said, lowering the rifle.
    Victoria lodged the doorstop into place and went into the hallway. There were signs
hanging from every other door urging students who had the flu to leave school until
they were healthy.
    The two of them moved silently to the next door. Tiny brought her rifle to her shoulder
and waited for Victoria to open the door. Victoria grabbed the handle and looked
back at Tiny.
    “What?” Tiny asked.
    “Don’t do it.”
    Tiny rolled her eyes. “We have to check every room.”
    Victoria shook her head and took a step toward Tiny, putting her hand on her shoulder.
“I mean … Kade. Don’t do it. I know, end of the world, pickings are slim, but
I’ve been inside the head of his other half. Kade’s dead. All that’s left is for
someone to carve the end date on his tombstone.”
    Tiny let her rifle hang from her shoulder and pushed Victoria’s hand off of her.
“Thanks.”
    “I mean it. He seems great. He seems wonderful. You can’t get closer than you are.
How long have you known him?”
    “Like ten years. Look, we have a job to do—”
    “And in ten years, you haven’t been able to land him?”
    Tiny uncomfortably ran a hand along her rifle.
    “Try now. Make a move. See that I’m right. He’s a dead man walking,” Victoria said.
    * * *
    Ashton stumbled through the thick woods. X slogged along behind her. He was leaning
on a smooth stick to distribute some of his weight. Logic said he should rest, but
Ashton was soldiering on and he didn’t want to be the weak one. Even if he had the
excuse that he’d been awake all night after saving her from the wreck, he didn’t
want to quit first. It wasn’t even midday yet.
    A certain song had come to mind. “ I would walk five hundred miles —”
    Ashton turned around and eyed him up. “Really?”
    “It’s catchy.”
    “It’s annoying.”
    “You can’t hate the song,” he said, walking past her.
    “I don’t hate it. I find it annoying.”
    “It’s a song about a man who would walk five hundred miles for the woman he loves,
and then walk five hundred more.”
    “Would you walk a thousand