Captured by the Chimera Zombie-Master

by Veronica Sommers

  Finley's arm brushes mine—soft and warm. Flesh so pure and luscious that every zombie out there on that plain is going to want to sink its fangs into her. Never mind that she's got her own clothes back—a T-shirt and jeans. They won't provide any defense against zombie jaws.

  Maybe Reuel is thinking something similar, because he hands her a leather jacket. "Wear this."

  "You guys could scrounge up a jacket for me, but no shirt for Atlan?" She smirks. "Seems inconsistent."

  "Atlan is in no danger from the zombies," says Reuel. "You wear this."

  He knows as well as I do that the jacket is useless against fangs. Maybe he's trying to make himself feel better about allowing this scenario to play out and putting her in danger. He helps her into the jacket, taking a moment to disengage her blond hair from the collar and sweep it over her shoulder. The look he gives her is compelling heat and barely checked desire. He may have agreed to let us sleep together at night, but he hasn't given up on her yet. He's still intent on getting into her pants.

  Great. Just great.

  They didn't give me my swords, but as the elevator lurches to a stop at the top of the shaft, John the tech hands Finley a long knife. "Just in case."

  I don't think he's doing it on Reuel's order—there's a faint defiance in the way he nods to her as she accepts the weapon. But Reuel doesn't protest. Instead he directs the other tech to hand me a bag full of handcuffs, zipties, and rope—everything I need to incapacitate the zombies so they can be safely brought back inside.

  "We need at least ten of them," says Reuel. "You'll be the one tying them up, but you will have to fight some off, too. Darius and I will protect Finley from any that get through your guard. My men—" he nods to John and the other tech— "will man the doors to make sure no zombies make it inside. Make sure the zombies you capture have all their limbs intact."

  "No problem," I say wryly. "Piece of cake."

  "Oh, and one more thing. If you try to escape, I will kill the blood-hire, Bob. His death will be on your hands. Do you understand?"

  I nod grimly. I don't like Bob as a person, but I'd rather not sign his death warrant, either. Not to mention the fact that Finley and I wouldn't get far on our own, not with Reuel flying after us on those dragonfly wings of his. Part of me is grudgingly excited to see them in action.

  The bunker has two sets of doors. One tech stays behind, near the elevator, while John accompanies us through the first set. He'll wait just inside the outer doors and monitor our situation.

  Darius is uncharacteristically quiet, and he won't so much as glance toward me. I should probably make an effort to start patching things up—after all, he's going to be defending my girl today.

  As we walk through the inner set of doors, I nudge his shoulder. "Hey man. Next time I'll use words to show you how wrong you are, deal? That way we can skip all the blood and attacking each other."

  Darius doesn't look my way. Doesn't respond.

  "He can't speak to you," says Reuel softly. "He's busy regrowing his tongue."

  Finley flashes me a horrified look. Honestly I'm kinda nauseated myself. Much as I wanted Reuel to rein Darius in, I didn't intend for him to be punished like that. It's sickening.

  We've got to get away from this place. But for now, all I can do is work on trapping the zombies Reuel needs for testing.

  The big outer doors of the bunker grind slowly open, and violent bright light explodes between them, shooting bolts of pain into my brain. Finley cringes, shielding her eyes, but then she creeps forward into the widening swath of light.

  "Wait!" I shift my body in front of her, walking out first, scanning the area. The bunker has a double fence around it—it's bowed over in places and broken in others, but it does discourage some of the zombies from getting too close.

  I don't see any zombies in either fenced section right now, so I move farther out, letting Finley follow me into broad daylight. As soon as we're all clear, the outer doors close behind us, cutting us off from the relative safety of the bunker.

  It's insanely bright out here, but it's also the perfect temperature—hot enough to drive away the bunker's chill from my skin, but breezy enough that the heat's not oppressive. The thick grasses hum with insects, and prairie flowers are sprinkled across the fields beyond the fences—pinkish-red stalks and starry yellow bursts and delicate blue dots in the sea of tawny grass. The sky is that kind of blue that's almost too vivid and bold to be real, and the only clouds are a couple creamy puffs near the horizon.

  It's the kind of day that Finley and I should spend in a fast car, soaring down a highway to a picnic spot where we'd eat delicious food and then make love on a blanket.

  But here we are, forced to spend the time luring and capturing sour-smelling undead gutbags.

  "Why can't I just take a stroll outside the fences and pick up a few zombies that way?" I ask Reuel. "No need for bait at all."

  "I can't have you running back to the Safe Zone," Reuel says. "You'll stay close to the bunker, under my supervision. Once they smell Finley, the zombies will come to us."

  "You think I'd run off by myself and leave her here, with you?" I snort a laugh. "Not a chance."

  "All the same, I can't risk losing my leverage." Reuel gives me a stiff smile. "Wait patiently, vampire. The zombies will come our way soon enough."

  The words have barely left his mouth when a zombie staggers around the corner of the bunker entrance, vocalizing in a thin, needy whine. It's the one I saw Reuel watching on the monitor yesterday morning. Now that I have a good look at it, I can see that it's wearing a gore-streaked lab coat.

  "One of yours?" I nod to the zombie, placing myself in his path as he lopes toward Finley, mouth gaping.

  "Yes." Reuel says. But he doesn't elaborate. He watches as I wrench the zombie's arms behind him, fasten his wrists with a zip tie, and gag him with a length of thick rope. It takes maybe five minutes, and by then my ears are picking up hungry moans from every direction.

  "Um, Atlan?" Finley's voice is nervous and tight.

  "I'm on it." I toss the bound zombie toward the bunker doors and whirl to face the oncoming crowd. At least thirty of them, maybe more, crawling over the fences, wrenching themselves free of the metal latticework, staggering toward Finley.

  It's that damn sweet blood of hers.

  "This was a bad idea!" I yell to Reuel. "You need to open the door and send her back in. We've got enough in this area now—I can collect them and disable them with no problem."

  Reuel shakes his head. "Can't open the door now, with so many coming our way. They'd be inside before we got it shut again. We'll have to clear them out first."

  I catch an oncoming zombie by the neck and fling her to the ground, grabbing her wrists and securing them. "You really didn't think this through, huh? I thought you were supposed to be smart."

  "We'll be fine," Reuel says, but I can hear the stiffness of fear in his voice. "Darius will help. Darius, go kill zombies."

  A guttural croak emanates from Darius's throat, and he charges past me, seizing the zombies and literally tearing them in half. I'm sprayed and splattered with black gore as I tie up the next zombie, and then another. Four down, six to go.

  More zombies are coming—dozens more, clustering around the fences, shaking them with fingers split open at the knuckles, clambering over the bent sections. Darius is still ripping and slashing, but some of the zombies are escaping past him, heading toward Reuel. The chimera stands several paces in front of Finley, heading off anything that comes too close to her.

  "Reuel, you have to open the outer doors and let Finley back inside!" I yell. "Do it now!"

  Reuel whips his tail into a zombie's throat and snaps his wings out, knocking over two more. In front of the bunker doors, Finley holds the knife John gave her, gripping it backward, ready for stabbing.

  "Reuel!" I shout again.

  "Shut up, vampire!" he bellows back, smashing a zombie's skull against the ground. "I have it under control. I can protect
her. You do your job!"

  "Damn you!" I snag another zombie by the wrist, but the decayed arm snaps and pulls free. I'm left holding a hand and some loose tendons, while the zombie stumbles on, moaning for flesh.

  With a lurch of powerful muscles, Reuel spins his dragonfly wings into action and lifts off the ground. The wings generate a hideous, strident buzzing sound, and immediately the zombies react, their heads whipping back and forth, screams of rage issuing from their fanged mouths.

  Reuel flies over their heads, toward the outer ring of the fences, and the zombies turn to follow him, chasing the sound. He hovers in the bright sky like some horned dragonfly demon, gazing down with disdain at the rotted hands clawing for his feet.

  Quickly I grab one of the zombies moving past me toward Reuel, and I secure the creature's arms and jaws.

  I don't know how long the chimera can stay airborne—how long his muscles will hold out so he can maintain this distraction. If he falls, they'll tear him to pieces. Last night, Finley repeated to me what he told her about his first foray outside—how he came back a wreck, partially eaten.

  Suppose that happened again? I can't decide if that would be more harmful or beneficial for us. If Reuel were out of commission, we might have a chance to escape. If we even want to. Despite all the horror he has put us through, I have to grudgingly admit that his plan might have merit. What if he really does have a way to slowly but surely decommission all the zombies, render them harmless and inert? Don't I, as a protector of humanity, have a responsibility to help him do that?

  I yank the sixth zombie's restraints tight—thankfully this one's bones and joints are still pretty secure. Just a few more.

  "Hurry up, vampire!" calls Reuel. He's still swerving and darting above the zombies' heads, while Darius drags down any stragglers.

  "I'm doing the best I can!" I yell back at him, catching a zombie's ankle and slamming it to the ground. Seven.

  Another one, a big man with half-chewed muscles. Eight.

  "You okay, Trouble?" I shout.

  "I'm good. Just stay focused," she replies. "You're doing great."

  A gray-haired zombie woman. Nine.

  And the scrawny teen girl with her. Ten. "Done, Reuel!"

  "Get them inside!" he yells, and he darts in front of one of the exterior cameras, signaling for John to open the doors.

  But his brief foray back toward the bunker entrance brought a fresh wave of zombies closer to Finley, and with her fresh scent in their nostrils, they forget the maddening noise of Reuel's wings. A full dozen of them charge her, and I leap to intercept them.

  A granite bulk of muscle and bony spikes slams into me, knocking me flat. My head rings, my eyes unfocusing briefly.

  "Darius," I gasp through pained lungs, struggling up. "What the hell? Let me up—I have to help Finley!"

  He shoves me down again, and pain splinters through my ribs and breastbone. The lower half of his face is elongated, almost like a muzzle, and when he opens his mouth, I can see half of his tongue already regrown. He tries to speak, garbled sounds dribbling from his mouth. "Best this way. Her gone—you join us."

  "No!" I scream, bucking against his massive weight. "Let me go! Your master, Reuel—he needs her! He'll be furious with you—" But even as I roar and struggle, I know it's already too late—I can't see the bunker doors but the zombies must have reached Finley by now—oh god—

  I will kill this monster. I'll kill him.

  Screaming into Darius's face, I dart my head forward and rip out his throat with my fangs. His blood pours from the wound, a red rain filling my eyes and mouth, blinding me. I writhe and spit, clawing and crawling out from under him, wiping the thick blood from my eyes, lurching to my feet.

  Finley isn't standing in front of the doors any more.

  Where—

  Where—

  Oh god, where is she?

  25

  Finley

  Reuel's arms grip my ribs mercilessly, holding me against his chest. The buzz of his wings vibrates through my skull, my bones. I'm stiff with fear, frozen as surely as if he'd used his stinger on me. My feet are dangling just above the desperate fingers of the zombies.

  Every muscle in Reuel's chest and stomach is straining, fighting to lift me higher. A throaty roar bursts from him, and with a final explosion of energy, he gains enough altitude to lift us both above the top of the bunker doors. We land on the narrow roof, and he sets me down, bowing over and breathing hard.

  My eyes latch onto a blood-drenched figure below us. Atlan is staring around wildly.

  "Here!" I call to him. "Up here!"

  He meets my eyes, and his shoulders sag briefly with relief. I smile and wave

  A sudden groaning and rumbling underneath us shakes the smile from my face. The bunker's outer doors are opening. Reuel signaled to John, and he is opening the doors—but there are still so many zombies down there.

  "Atlan!" I shriek. "Protect John!" My vampire warrior doesn't have his swords, but I've seen him slaughter bigger crowds of zombies than this with his teeth and hands, just to save me. Surely he can keep them from getting to John.

  Atlan turns to face the oncoming zombies—but something's wrong. He's slower than usual, hunched over, hugging his torso. And why is Darius slumped motionless on the ground? Zombies are already clustering around the chimera-vampire, sniffing and snapping. One of them tears a long strip of flesh from his arm, and then they're all on him, gnawing and biting and slavering.

  I spin back to Reuel, striking him in the chest with my fists. "Why are you standing here? Get down there and help them!"

  He grimaces, but he leaps off the edge of the roof and lands in a crouch in front of the bunker doors. From up here I can't see how wide the gap between the doors is, but the rumbling through my feet tells me they're still in the process of opening.

  Reuel and Atlan fight together in a kind of clumsy improvised dance. Reuel immobilizes a zombie and flings it to Atlan, who rips its head off even as Reuel smashes his fist through another zombie's skull. One time they swing two zombies at each other and the creatures smash in the middle, decayed brain matter spraying across the dry grass.

  Within minutes, they have most of the nearby zombies cleared out.

  "Get Finley!" Atlan shouts, and then he starts throwing the zombies he has bound through the outer doors, into the entrance of the bunker. He's half-bowed, limping, and in between tossing zombie bodies he clutches his ribs or his chest as if he's in pain.

  Reuel appears at my side, scooping me up in his arms and leaping off the building again in one fluid movement. He carries me inside, holding me up above the zombie bodies on the floor. A couple of them worked their gags loose, and they're snapping and growling at me and at John, who huddles near the inner doors.

  "What is that fool doing?" Reuel's voice rumbles through his chest.

  I crane my neck to see what he's looking at, and my heart seizes up.

  Atlan killed the zombies that were eating Darius, and now he's trying to drag the vampire-chimera's raw red carcass toward the bunker gates. Behind him, more zombies are coming over the fences.

  "Close the doors," Reuel says. "Now."

  John presses the button, and the doors shiver, grinding slowly towards each other again.

  "Wait, stop!" I struggle in Reuel's arms, but he tightens his grip on my body. "Atlan is still out there, and Darius—"

  "Darius has disobeyed me for the last time," Reuel says. "He attacked your vampire and nearly caused your death because of it." He raises his voice. "Leave him, vampire! Come inside!"

  "Atlan!" My voice rises to a shriek. "Come back! Don't leave me in here alone, please! Please."

  Atlan looks at me, his face a wretched mask of blood and pain and regret, as the doors draw closer together.

  The zombies have nearly reached Darius's body. Atlan strains one more time, dragging him a few inches—but then he doubles over, clutching his ribcage. The zombies crawl onto Darius, ripping out mouthfuls, and more of t
hem swarm around the corpse, heading straight for the bunker entrance.

  The doors are a scant few feet apart now, and closing. Atlan staggers toward the gap, hand outstretched—he angles his body, slides through—and the doors slam shut. Several very faint, very distant thuds impact the door—zombie bodies crashing into it—but they may as well be drops of rain striking a dam.

  "The inner doors, John," says Reuel. When they open, he carries me through, refusing to set me down until we're in the elevator. "You'll descend first," he tells me. "Go to your room and lie down. I think you've had enough 'sunshine' for one day."

  I want to protest, to tell him not to order me around—but he did save my life. I almost died out there. So when he presses the button and backs out of the elevator, I don't protest. As the elevator doors close, I glimpse John clapping Atlan's shoulder.

  "Piece of cake, eh?" he says, and Atlan chokes on a broken laugh.

  I have no idea how Reuel managed to get any zombie test subjects last time. No wonder he hasn't wanted to repeat the process without assistance. Although I think we definitely could have planned it better. If Sergeant Perez had been here, she'd have come up with a tidy, kickass strategy that would have kept everyone alive and let me enjoy the sun a little longer, no doubt. And maybe Atlan wouldn't have been so badly wounded. When he's done helping Reuel put the test zombies away, he'll need blood. And I'll need another shot of Sanguadyne.

  The elevator hits bottom with a thud that's somehow satisfying. How twisted is it that I feel safer down here? I guess Atlan was right—I shouldn't have gone out there. But if I hadn't, I'd have missed that beautiful day—the heat of the sun on my skin, the blue sky, the breeze—and Bob probably would have died. The others wouldn't have been as keen to protect him as they were to protect me.

  My legs wobble as I leave the elevator, and my tongue feels like cotton. Before I go to my room, I stop for a bathroom break and a drink.

  I've finished using the toilet and washing my hands, and I have my mouth under the faucet when Clarice Corbin walks into the bathroom behind me.