"They're coming," said Carl. We could smell the putrid, rotten smell a mile away, and were able to avoid it. Until now. Those filthy walking corpses cornered us inside the supermarket. There was no escape. We had to fight.

"There's too many," whispered Maria. "We don't have enough bullets."

"I know," Carl replied. He looked down. John had perished at the hands of the zombies right as it all started, even with him always preparing for a situation like this. Now it was just us three, with no formal training, against a horde of undead.

They readied their guns, but did not make a move. I standed up.

"Mike, get down!" Carl said. The zombies saw me and started walking.

"Nay," I said, drawing my sword and shield. "Thy guns may only attract more of those foul beasts. Leaveth this to me."

With careful steps I approached the ghouls. They growled. In a single slash I dropped the head of one. Then another, and another. Soon, however, they jumped me. My shield blocked some, but not enough. One managed to bite my shoulder.

Carl and Maria closed their eyes. Even dead, its teeth were still strong enough to pierce flesh. But not metal. I threw the monster on the ground and took off my shirt, showing my mail to all.

"Fools," I said, "mine armor shalt not fall to thy wretched jaws!" I slashed through more and more of the dead. My blade did not dull even after a dozen slashes. All tried and failed to pierce my armor. They fell one by one.

When it ended, I kneeled. My body took a toll even without the bite of those demons.

"Mike," my friends called, "are you okay?"

"Aye, friends," I replied. "As long as thou art safe."

They helped me get u and we walked to our shelter. Another day survived. Another battle in the tale of Sir Michael.