The hedge was as tall as James, and thick. He hadn't considered something so simple to be so impossible. He had tried three times to grab hold of it and climb over, but each time he'd fallen back with two hands full of broken branches. He looked around, noting that the end of the garden backed up onto the wall of a neighbouring house. 

The constant raling of the chainlink fence behind him, reminded him that the little child was all too aware of his presence. James could turn back, perhaps shove the child aside and make a run for it - but to where? 

He looked slowly down the garden, past the rusting barbecue and capsized picnic furniture, and towards the house. The back door to the building was ajar, and smeared with bloody hand prints. He couldn't see past that though, because with the power out, everything looked dark inside. It was possible that the dead men who once occupied the premises were no longer around, and he figured that surely they'd of come out by now because of the racket he'd made trying to climb the hedge.

Still, James did not relish the task of traversing a dark and claustrophobic environment. He'd been lucky so far, and had spent most of the crisis' duration hidden away in Old Man Cowsky's house. No one had bothered him, not the rampaging military, or the ravenous dead. He hadn't lifted a hand in anger to anyone, nor had anyone lifted a hand against him. He'd just sat there, day after day, looking out the loft's window at a world falling down in the distance. 

His grip around his tyre iron stiffened, and he felt its weight. This gave him a small boost of confidence, and so giving the dead child a quick sideways glance, he headed down towards the house. 

The door had been long ago battered off one of its hinges, and hung at a slight angle. He pushed it aside, and winced as it creaked. His heart froze, and any second he expected dead hands to reach out of the darkness and claim him. They didn't. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerve, and walked on in.

James immediately lost his footing, and slipped on something oily. He managed to stop himself from falling, and stood still for a few seconds. Still nothing. He continued, walking into what was once the house's kitchen. Everything seemed quiet, and even the dead child outside had stopped rattling the fence. 

A can of Heinz beans, laying on the floor by the kitchen's open fridge caught James' eye. Suddenly his stomach rumbled, and he remembered that he hadn't eaten in three days. 

"Well," he said to himself cheerfully. "There's no time like the present!" 

James started to pull back the kitchen's draws, looking for a can opener.