She looked around, as if trying to see an invisible foe, her ears turning every stray sound ominous. He had said there were three monsters outside, but only two lay vanquished at their feet, their blood turned to fire within them by her silver weapon.
"I know she's out there," he said distantly, his eyes similarly darting around. "She, or it, or whatever. I doubt these things have any sense of self anymore, beyond hunger."
He looked down at his gun, lying on the floor, useless even despite its remaining bullets. "Toss me one of those knives, would you?" he said, motioning toward her bag. "We might not have a lot of time, and you've seen how they regenerate from regular wounds."
She pulled out another knife from her backpack and handed it to him, all the time thinking how strange it was that a blunt knife could be their best choice of weapon. Looking down at her own knife, she noticed again that no blood remained on the blade. The only sign remaining of her act was what had splattered on her clothing. She'd heard that silver was effective against evil, acting like a purifying agent against their corruption. Apparently, it was true.
As if hearing her thoughts, he said, "Yeah, silver. Evil can't touch it, and since these zombie-pires are two kinds of evil, I guess it hurts them twice as bad."
He sounded so confident, she didn't bother to question his logic. For all she knew, he was right.
"I'm Nate, by the way," he said. "Nate Sanders. Thought you might want to know." He said it matter-of-factly, as if it were just a side-note to him. Instead of waiting for her reply, he walked to the corner of the shed and grabbed a roll of duct tape and an old wooden rake. Breaking off the rake end of it, he began taping the silver knife to the now-sharp end, making a crude spear.
"You're the neighbor girl from the next street up, right?" he asked, still continuing on despite her silence. "I've seen you walking down the street occasionally. I think we went to high school together, but I guess we had different classes. Been a while since then, anyway." He appraised his weapon critically and, after giving it a few test-thrusts, judged it sufficient.
There was still silence outside, with no sign of the third zombie-pire. She was afraid even to approach the door, imagining the monster waiting crouched at the entrance, ready to pounce on her unawares. She pictured in her head the creature leaping at her, tearing at her with horrible, clawed fingers, fangs ready to-
"Gimme that a minute, would you?" he asked gently, as he put his hand on hers to take the knife from her. His hand was warm from adrenaline, but the touch still startled her. "I'll make you spear too. Be a lot safer to attack from a distance." She saw that he held another wooden handle in his other hand, though she couldn't tell from what. Half-reluctantly, she let him have the knife, and he set about fashioning a second silver-tipped spear without even offering thanks, as if it were expected, not requested.
"Well," he said, "she's probably waiting outside for us, but we're gonna have to go out there anyway, since we can't exactly stay in here forever." He handed her the spear, picked up her backpack, and took her hand. "You ready? Stay close."
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