Directly below her, the Infected stood outside the glass doors, waiting for their undead comrades to flush her out. They looked up in surprise, saw her flying over them.

And then the tarmac-covered driveway was coming at her and she used both hands, trying to manipulate the air. She did her best to cushion her fall, but this wasn't the easy drop from her bedroom window-- this was much higher, it was at an angle, and she hadn't taken into account the sheer velocity. . . .

She landed and cried out in pain as she rolled, knees and elbows striking the driveway, her hip scraping as she tumbled, her skin torn and bleeding.

She knew she should have worn trousers.