The little USP bucked in my hand and struck the gas tank square. Contrary to everything movies show you, gas tanks do not explode in white-hot explosions – at least, that’s not what I saw. A rolling orange sphere engulfed half of the zombies and the others started towards the sound and motion. I silently thanked those long hours spent at the firing range and dived out of the window after Jess, rolling down the sloping roof of the west wing. The fire burst through the window after us, grasping at our narrow escape.
We both hit the lip of the roof at the same time. Thankfully, the gradient was shallow and we both stopped easily; there was no time to waste, though. I looked over the edge and down at a study window beneath us – it might just work. Taking a deep breath for luck, I swung over and drove a boot into the side of the glass pane, popping it out of the wooden frame with a quick crunch. The study was a abandoned and dark, the previous occupant having tidied up before leaving for the failed evacuation.