Regina grabbed the skillet in a frenzy. She raised it above her head with both hands and swung as hard as she could.
She forced herself to keep her eyes open. If this didn't hit, she was dead.
The heavy skillet arced down and clipped the zombie on the jaw, knocking it onto the floor. It's jaw hung open, held up only by sallow skin. With a groan, it slithered toward Regina, unfeeling of pain.
Regina swung again, pummeling it on the head. Her hands rang from the impact, but she could not stop now. She hit it again and again, the dull thud of metal and splattering of blood meeting her ears.
At last, a disturbing snap of bone signified the skull had cracked. Blood and brains oozed from the crevice and onto the once pristine linoleum. The zombie's groans ceased as it moved its arms feebly.
Regina continued clobbering it. She panted from exertion as blood sprinkled her T-shirt and jeans.
Finally, the zombie ceased its twitching and grew still. A rotten smell that made her want to heave permeated the air.
The blood now on her face was a sobering reminder not to go too crazy. If that so much as entered her eye...
She dropped the skillet with a clang and ran to the sink. She turned on the faucet and washed her face. She then went to her bedroom and changed into a clean shirt and jeans before returning to the living room.
The zombie was still inert on the floor. Blood continued to pool under its misshapen head. Regina was afraid it would spring back to life. But how could it? Its skull was flattened as if an eighteen wheeler had run it over.
"I...actually did that...."
Regina wanted to fall down and cry, but she did not have that luxury. The zombies outside continued to beat against her door, desperate to make their entrance. The top hinge appeared to be loosening.
It could fall any second.
Regina had to think of something. But nothing came to mind. She was stuck here. There was nothing she could do.
She ran to the window and looked outside. Well, jumping was something. But a dozen zombies now wandered the parking lot, searching for their next meal.
But what else could she do? Wait in here until they broke in? Even if she were to die out there, she was as good as dead in here.
Regina walked to the kitchen and picked up the skillet, her arm shaking from its earlier effort. Unfortunately, the skillet was the best weapon she had. There was nothing else in the apartment with its skull-crushing capabilities.
Regina once more walked to the window. If she could just jump and run very fast, she might be able to break free of the zombies outside. But if she landed wrong, or got surrounded, or was just plain unlucky, she would be dead for sure.
Behind her, she heard the top hinge fall and clink to the floor.
She closed her eyes, trying to gain her focus.
It was time to make a decision.
What should Regina do:
Jump out the window,
Try to think of a better option?
Cast your vote and return next Tuesday to see if you made the right call.