The four of us stop and rush to the edge of the watchtower just in time to see the horde scramble onto the hood of the car. They moan and groan hungrily as they claw at the windscreen, causing it to crack and almost buckle beneath their desperate hands.
“Shit. They don’t have much time before that window collapses and we can’t risk shooting in case we hit the glass,” Rhys bites out as he turns to Ollie. “Fine. We’ll try your risky as fuck plan. Go get Anthony and bring as many glass bottles and jars as you can find here. Theo and I will grab anything remotely liquid and flammable.” He turns to a scowling Alex. “You can go grab a bunch of sheets and start tearing them into strips. Make sure they’re dry and mostly clean.”
We hurry away to do as we’re told. Rhys and I beeline straight to the kitchen and to where the liquor is stored. Along the way, Rhys radiosin, demanding that more weapons be delivered to the front gate since only a few guards are armed and we need a Plan B. With that done, we grab as many bottles of vodka, whisky, and rum as we can, prioritising the higher-proof bottles.
“You take those. I’ll go to the storage sheds and see if there’s some jerry cans full of petrol still around,” Rhys says as he hands me more bottles.
I juggle several bottles as I hurry back to the gate, glass clinking as I half run, half walk. Alex is already there, holding old bedsheets that he’s cutting into strips with a knife while shaking his head.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he grumbles as I place the bottles beside him.
I can’t help but be amused by his surly attitude. “I think you should worry more about how you’re going to throw these things,” I tell him with a small chuckle and a pat on his back.
“I’m trying my best to forget that part, you prick,” he says, his eyes narrowing at my smile.
It’s probably looking a little manic right now with everything going on. Adrenaline is pumping through my system, giving me the floaty, almost giddy high I can’t help but crave. It’s addictive how good it makes me feel, and surviving the apocalypse has only added to it.
“You need to get your head checked. No one should be that eager about impending danger and potential death.”
I shrug. “We all have to get our kicks somehow, Mr I-enjoy-almost-getting-caught-fucking.”
He snorts and shakes his head but doesn’t answer, instead focusing on tearing more strips from the bedsheet.
I take that as my cue to grab more bottles of booze. However, as I reach the door to the communal dining building, Rhys calls out to me. I turn, spotting him next to one of the storage sheds, a jerry can in each hand.
“Leave the alcohol and help me with these,” he orders.
I jog over to him and grab the cans, shocked that they’re almost full. And then I notice that there’s two more behind him. Why the hell doesHaven have this much petrol just lying around in a shed? Not that it really matters right now when we have bigger problems to deal with.
We haul the cans back to the gate. Ollie and Anthony have returned with a bunch of empty bottles and are helping Alex rip more strips. They pause, their eyes widening when they see the amount of petrol Rhys and I have bought.
“This enough, you think?” Rhys asks as he sets his cans down.
Ollie’s mouth opens and closes a few times before nodding. “Holy shit, yeah. I think with all of that, we might actually pull this off.”
We get to work quickly, the hungry groans from the zombies and the terrified screams from the supply team spurring us on. Others from the security team see what we’re doing and hurry over to help, including Simon.
“This is fucking crazy,” he says as he fills bottles with petrol.
“We bloody know,” Alex grumbles with a surly expression as he shoves pieces of fabric into already filled bottles.
We’ve made about thirty Molotov cocktails when Charles and Elsa appear, both looking confused, concerned, and pissed at what they see.
“What the hell is going on out here?” Charles demands as he glares down at us. “Shouldn’t you be taking down the horde outside the gate?”
“We’re making Molotovs to do just that,” Rhys says curtly as he finishes carefully pouring petrol into a glass bottle and hands it over for it to have a rag shoved into it.
“What?” Elsa screeches. “Why on earth are you doing that? Don’t you know they’re dangerous?”
I barely resist snorting because,duh. We’re making thembecausethey’re dangerous. Unfortunately, Ollie can’t stifle hers, and that causes both councillors to swing their ire at her.
“You think this is funny?” Elsa snaps, planting her hands on her hips and glaring down at the other woman.
Ollie seems unconcerned by Elsa’s anger and shrugs. “A little, yeah. We understand Molotovs are dangerous; that’s the entire reason we’re making them.”
I beam at her. It’s times like this that remind me just how fucking perfect this woman is for me.
“You stupid girl! You’re going to set the entire community on fire!” Charles hisses at her, his face a shade of red I’ve never seen before.
