With a yell, Mike, all 215 pounds of him, dipped his shoulder so he hit square in the middle of the solid oak door. He impacted between John and Rachel, with enough force to knock back the ghouls who were trying to force their way in. The door swung closed, thanks to the force pushing on it from the inside. No matter how hard they pushed, the door wouldn't swing all the way shut. Mike, turning and pushing on the door with both hands, saw the reason.

A hand, blue and rotting, was flopping about randomly. The undead owner on the outside was trapped. The ghouls that had been knocked down, however, were getting back to their feet, and a renewed push might result in the swarm of creatures making their way inside the house. "Someone, get a knife or something," he cried.

"Watch out!" Before Rachel, whose hair was becoming entangled by the clasping fingers, could react, a meat cleaver came whistling through the air, and with a small spray of flakes, the head embedded itself in the doorjamb, neatly severing the hand at the wrist.

The door closed an instant later. One pair of hands scrambled to close the deadbolt, another shoved two planks of wood across, and another pair shoved a chair under the doorknob. Mike turned, his back against the door, sighing loudly. John, next to him, wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking a little bit. Rachel had kicked the hand away with her foot, and it was already curling up, motionless, at the foot of the steps.

In front of them, Jay smiled, pulling the cleaver of the doorjamb as a frightened, shaking young woman stood by his side. "Well...that could have been worse." Jay set the cleaver down next to a backpack on the floor of the foyer.

"You’re bleeding, Jay." Mike came over and saw a nasty gash on Jay’s right arm. Blood was beginning to pool in the wound. "Doesn’t look like a bite…come on in the kitchen, I’m going to bandage that up. Rachel, get her some water and a blanket. John, see what I managed to snag..."