Rhys immediately draws himself to his full height, and while his height isn’t that imposing, the way he holds himself is. The thunderous expression on his face also helps. Alex follows him, a hulking, terrifying shadow at his back.
Charles and Elsa step back from us, their eyes widening. This is probably the first time they’ve actually seen them pissed at them. Or maybe they’re just realising that Rhys is basically a trained killing machine and Alex is fucking massive.
“Call Ollie stupid or talk down to her again, Idareyou,” Rhys says, his voice cold and hard. While Alex and I grow hot with our fury, Rhys turns ice cold.
Charles sucks in a sharp breath as the colour drains from his face. Even Elsa is looking shaky and terrified next to him, and she’s not even the subject of Rhys’s rage.
“S-sorry,” the older man says, then clears his throat and seems to get a grip as he composes himself. “I apologise, Ollie. That was unacceptable.”
Rhys stares at them icily for a moment before nodding and crouching back down to fill more bottles with petrol. Alex remains standing, arms crossed over his chest as he glares at the two councillors. The tension dissipates, and I can’t help but smirk at the twin looks of shaken relief on Charles’s and Elsa’s faces.
Ollie looks stunned, and a little turned on as she stares at Rhys like she’s never seen him before. That’s twice he’s defended her now. Maybe our girl is finally realising that the idiot wants more than friendship with her.
“Alright, I think this’ll be enough,” Rhys says as he finishes filling his bottle. “Let’s throw these before that windshield breaks and four more people get added to the horde.”
We each gather a couple of bottles each—both with and without rags—and scurry up the ladders to the watchtowers. Lucky for us, we have two people who played cricket before the apocalypse, so they’re the ones who’ll throw first.
And throw they fucking do.
The first few bottles are unlit and fly through the air, disappearing into the darkness. There’s a muffled crash as the glass smashes into pieces, hopefully spilling the petrol onto as many zombies as possible. With a few bottles thrown, they move on to the lit ones.
Nothing happens. Ollie and Rhys curse, thinking the idea had flopped and the two immediately look around, trying to figure out another plan.
And then the second and third lit bottles are thrown.
There’s a thunderouswhooshas bright orange fire bursts upward, engulfing several zombies in flames. The zombies around them stop their shuffling towards the car and the gate and turn their attention to the fire, catching themselves alight in the process.
“Holy shit, itworked! Throw more!” Ollie cries out, her voice filled with shock and excitement as she jumps up and down.
The two security guys follow her orders, throwing more Molotov cocktails into the night. More fires burst into existence, drawing more and more zombie attention with each new fire. The only downside is the thick stench of burning rotting flesh, smoke, and petrol that clogs the air.
I grab a few bottles, wanting to set my own fires. While my throws aren’t as far as the others, they’re decently far away from the gate and the car that I’m not worried. Even Alex has a try, and his throws turn out to be pretty decent. Much better than mine.
“Told you you’d be perfect for this!” Ollie tells him with a laugh that warms my soul.
I grin at her and place a bottle with a rag ready to be lit in her hands. “Here. You have a try; it’s fun.” I light the rag before she can protest.
She hesitates for a moment before chucking the Molotov as far as she can. We watch as the flaming bottle arcs through the air before smashing into a group of zombies off to the left. The fire that erupts from the petrol is spectacular, and both of us cheer as more zombies head away from the car and gate.
Alex shakes his head at our antics. “There really is something wrong with you two.”
“You’re just jealous that my fire was better than yours,” Ollie says and sticks her tongue out at him.
His gaze darkens. “Remember what I said before; don’t stick that out unless you plan on using it.”
Rhys watches their interaction with a soft smile on his face and a fond look in his eyes. He’s so fucking gone for Ollie it’s not even funny.
We all turn our attention back to the horde outside the gate. While there are multiple large fires burning at several points that are drawing most of the horde’s attention, the zombies immediately around the car ignore the fire. They’re climbing all over the vehicle, groaning and clawing at the windows as they desperately try to get to the people inside. More cracks appear on the windscreen as more zombies crawl on top of it.
Rhys grimaces. “Shit. We’re going to need more weapons to take those infected out now, or all of this is going to be for nothing.” He turns and hurries to the ladder, only to stutter to a stop.
“Did somebody order more guns?” Rachel cheerfully calls out from the bottom of the ladder with a grin on her face and a rifle in her hands. Beside her, Tobias and her partner Tamsin stand laden with our entire supply of hunting rifles and shotguns.
Rhys curses. “Did you break into the armoury?” he asks as she climbs up the ladder.
She shrugs. “Maybe.” She glances around, her eyes lighting up when she sees the fires and the Molotov cocktails still to be thrown. “Oh shit, you guys were having apartyup here. Who’s the pyromaniac?”
Rhys, Alex and I all turn to Ollie.
