Johnny takes his out with a slightly higher application of effort than is probably necessary; the thing goes down relatively easy, but he keeps swinging. He wants to make sure. You never know how much these things can take, how easily they'll get back up.

When he's done he turns to help Peeta, but Peeta does not need his help. He stands there for a moment, holding his bloodied bat limply, watching Peeta take down the monsters with brutal skill.

Don't think about it.

He turns sharply when a rotting hand grabs at his shoulder and swings again, knocking it into a tree. This one is a little more resilient than the last, pushing back up and groping for him, and he'd be able to handle it just fine if there weren't another behind him now, arms looping around him as it strains to take a bite out of his shoulder.

He lets out a strained grunt, struggling to dislodge it as well as fend off the one in front of him, but he's gonna be fucked if he doesn't get help.

"Peeta!" he gasps, buckling halfway under the thing's weight, all his energy now poured into keeping its teeth from his flesh.