Janine slammed the door shut and threw the bolt. “And that is why you don’t read from mysterious books of necromancy in a supermarket the day before Thanksgiving!” Another half-thawed turkey corpse hurled itself into the window of the store she and Mark had found to hide in. The pane cracked.
“I know, I know,” Mark shouted back, flipping through the book’s pages of questionably-sourced parchment. “Just keep ’em back ’til I find something that can help us.”
“Like hell,” Janine shouted. “Fighting fire with fire just gets you more fire.”
“What about firebreaks?” He kept flipping.
“The analogy fails when you’re actively animating more turkeys to stop the rest from spreading, and you better fucking not be. In fact…” Mark fell back on his ass as the head of her fire axe bit deep into the open book. Janine stomped the book off her axe and chopped into again, and again, until it was little more than ragged strips of ugly leather. Another headless turkey slammed into the glass, widening the crack.
“Great,” Mark said, “now some kinda counter-spell’s not an option. What’s your plan, fearless leader?”
“Um. Destroying the book was my plan.” They turned to the window.