A gunshot rang out, blasting a hole in the door. A crossbow quarrel zinged through the hole and stuck quivering into the opposite wall. Seth heard the rocking horse clattering down the staircase, the twang of bowstrings, and the overlapping beat of several other projectiles thudding against the door. "That was awesome," Seth told Kendra. "You're psychotic," Kendra replied.

She pictured herself running from a hoard of ravenous zombies on a hot day eventually collapsing from heatstroke and getting devoured. Then she imagined Hal giving a rousing eulogy at her funeral explaining how Kendra's death was a beautiful sacrifice allowing the noble zombies to live on delighting future generations by mindlessly trying to eat them. With her luck it could totally happen.

When jumping is the sole option, you jump, and try to make it work.

Sometimes the best offense was avoiding self-destruction.

....there is a difference between hearing and listening. You can't always help what you hear. But you can control what holds your interest, what you choose to dwell on.

We all posses different gifts and abilities. How we use those gifts determines who we are.

After all, as long as you know, why make when you can take?