Title: Strike The Match (She Deserves The Flame)
By: Bridget McKennitt
Character: Mary Campbell
Rating: G
Word Count: 601
Summary: Mary's just a normal sixteen year old girl; she dates, she does homework, and she has fun. Fun like dispatching zombies in a graveyard.
Contains: No warnings in as far I know that can't be extrapolated from the header itself.
Disclaimer: Supernatural is owned by Eric Kripke and other companies. They are used here without permission, and for entertainment purposes only. No challenge or infringement upon the copyright is intended, nor should any be inferred.


Zombies. Mary loved fighting zombies. She grabbed a stake from her knapsack and grinned. She rarely got to hunt zombies, and when she did, her father always kept her behind the front lines. This was going to be fun. She spotted the first one lurching its way past a statue of an angel and ran towards it. It noticed her and changed directions, arms out with rotting skin sloshing off.

Mary didn't slow her speed as she tackled the zombie and raised her stake high before slamming it through its chest, pinning it to the ground. As it struggled to set itself free, Mary looked up and saw the next zombie climbing out of the ground, hands grasping at the loosened dirt and grass.

She got up and reached for her fallen shotgun. Mary took aim, and just as the zombie popped its head out of the ground, she pulled the trigger. Rock salt slammed into the zombie's head and it screamed. She reloaded the shotgun and fired another shot.

There were a few more of the undead crawling around the graveyard and Mary, dirt stained in her clothes and grass tangled in her blonde locks, rounded them up in an uncovered grave hole, staking them down so they could not escaping.

This was the best part, something that came close to battling zombies. The second to last item in her knapsack was a container of gasoline she had to filch from a gas station outside of Lawrence. She grinned down at the zombies as they snapped their decaying jaws at her while she poured the entire container of gasoline over their bodies. Then she grabbed the bag of salt in her knapsack and poured it all on the zombies.

Mary dug into her jeans pocket and pulled out her matches. She grabbed a matchstick and struck it against the book. Inhaling sharply, she stared at the bright flame before dropping the lit match into the hole. The response was instantaneous and Mary had to jump back as flames shot up in gleeful delight.

She waited for awhile, watching the fire dance and the zombies burn. Then, without another glance, she headed back to the pickup truck.

***

Mary had just stepped out of the steaming bathroom, towel drying her hair, when she heard the phone ring. She picked up it and cradled it against her ear. "Hello?"

"Mary." John's happy voice greeted her and she beamed as she sat down on her bed. "I'm so glad you're still awake. I, uh, didn't wake you, did I?"

She laughed. "No, you didn't. I just took a shower."

"Good good." John paused. "I didn't wake your parents, did I?"

"No, they're not here. They went to Ohio to help out a friend with their...rodent problem." She shifted. "It's so good to hear your voice, John. I love you."

"Love you, too, Mary." He chuckled and Mary closed her eyes, savoring his laughter. "This might sound silly, but I just wanted to hear your voice tonight."

"It's not silly at all. So what have you been up to?"

"Nothing much. I helped Dad change the oil on Mr. Robinson's car. What about you? Have you been getting into trouble with your parents away?"

Mary looked up at her dresser where her favorite shotgun rested. "No," she said faintly. "No trouble at all. I just did normal, boring things. Homework. Tell me more about your day."

Mary curled up in bed, clutching the phone tighter, and letting John's voice wash over her. She loved him. It was a good ending to a fun evening.



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