by Dia Cole
No. No. No.
My eyes closed tightly as I willed the wooden boxes to stay put. The sound of them slamming into the ground was like a cannon going off.
Cringing, I opened my eyes to find Skull Face staring directly at me.
2
“Hola, bonita,” Skull Face said with a ghastly grin, jumping out of the jeep. His dark gaze crawled over my body, stopping at my face. He jolted, and his eyes widened as if he recognized me.
I sure as hell didn’t recognize him. If those ponytails fluttering at his belt were what I thought they were, I didn’t want this guy and his Mad Max kind of crazy coming any closer. But he’d already seen me.
If I run with my bum ankle, he’ll chase me down. If I shoot him, I’ll have his friends and their M16s to contend with. Should I just surrender?
Indecision glued me to the pavement.
He shouted something in Spanish to the men searching the Warehouse. They ran from the smoldering building to flank him.
I gave Dominic a quick glance. He was still hidden from sight by the Dumpster. He’d taken a knee at the edge of the metal bin, handgun in his fist. The anxious look in his eyes told me he wasn’t optimistic about our chances.
Two against five were terrible odds. If running wasn’t an option and attacking wasn’t an option, only one solution remained.
Lifting my head, I sniffed the air and let out an audible moan. Channeling every zombie movie Reed ever made me watch, I lurched forward into the mess of broken crates.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Ignoring Dominic, I gnashed my teeth together. I pretended to get my foot stuck and fell to the ground. Not an Oscar-worthy performance, but hopefully it would convince the advancing skeleton-faced men that I wasn’t worth bothering with.
They stopped in their tracks, near where Sasha’s collar lay in the middle of the street. Skull Face shook his head in apparent disappointment. “Such a waste,” he said in a heavily accented voice.
The other men’s faces wrinkled in disgust. One of the bigger guys lifted his gun and aimed it at me.
Crap. What now, genius? Shall I keep flailing and get shot in the head, or start running and get shot in the back?
Dominic tensed, finger on the trigger of his gun. Although he couldn’t see what was happening over the Dumpster, he must have seen the panic on my face.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I prayed for a quick death.
I heard Dominic curse and then the sound of gunshots.
My eyes flew open in time to see shock register on the gang members’ faces before they jumped out of the line of fire.
Dominic pulled the trigger again. The gang members lifted their guns, but before they could shoot, Dominic yanked me behind the Dumpster.
Dominic’s glacial expression screamed murder. I didn’t know if it was directed at me, or them. He released my arm. “What the fuck was that?”
Me. He definitely wants to murder me.
Indignant, I brushed wood shards from my black pants. I’d tried to make myself appear as harmless a zombie as I could. I didn’t bank on them trying to shoot me anyway. “I was improvising.”
“Never do that again.”
The urge to kick that patronizing look off his face was nearly overpowering. “Thanks to you, they now know I’m not a zombie.”
“Thanks to me, you’re still alive.”
The sound of clicking teeth punctuated Dominic’s last word.
He looked behind us. “Shit.”
I turned to see a crowd of Biters lurching down the alley. They were a hundred yards away and gathering speed.
Skull Face shouted, “Senorita, why don’t you and your friend come out so we can talk?”
“Yeah, we just want to talk,” said another deeper voice.
Dominic’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of the men snickering.
Damn it.
We were trapped between at least a dozen zombies and the most dangerous gang in the city. I knew what the zombies wanted to do to us.
Do we take our chances with the gang members?
“What will they do to us?”
His face turned to granite. He looked away.
“Dominic.”
“They tend to keep the young women they find.” His expression said it all.
My stomach rolled. Fantastic.
So my options are getting eaten alive or spending the rest of my short life being raped by Skull Face and his friends.
Rage boiled up inside me. “Why did the apocalypse turn men into monsters?”
“Not all of us.”
I stared into his midnight eyes. With a burst of clarity, I realized that for all his annoying bossiness and arrogance, Dominic was a good man. He’d never once used his strength to hurt me or the other women back at the school. Even now, he could’ve run and saved himself, but I knew without a doubt he’d stay to protect me.
Even if it costs him his life.
“Will they kill you?” I asked softly.
“I’m not so easy to kill,” he said drawing his other weapon. With his muscles bulging and a gun in each hand, he looked as though he could take on a whole army of Calaveras.
Hope sparked in my chest.
Maybe we can actually fight them off.
Palming my gun, I joined Dominic with my back to the rusted black metal bin.
We both flinched at the bullwhip-cracking sound of gunfire. A volley of bullets ate the pavement near the broken crates, sending wood pieces jumping into the air.
Warning shots.
Dominic leaned over and fired back.
“You’re being rude, senorita. I’m starting to lose my patience.”
The sound of bullets hitting the metal Dumpster rang in my ears.
What chance do we stand against those weapons?
I cursed the fact that we’d left our assault rifle with Darcy. At least that gun would have evened the playing field.
The sound of gnashing teeth grew louder.
Tremors started in my toes and crept up my spine.
“Basta! We need her alive,” Skull Face shouted at one of the men.
The shooting stopped.
In a calmer voice Skull Face called out, “The dead are coming, senorita. We can take you and your friend somewhere safe.”
Safe my ass.
I could hear the lie in the smoothness of his voice.
“Luis, we need to go,” said one of the men.
“No. My brother would want this one. Besides, she has such pretty hair.”
Recognition jolted me.
Skull Face, aka Luis, is Javier’s brother.
I’d had only a brief interaction with him at the club, but it was enough to give me the creeps. My mind flashed to the ponytails hanging from his belt. He’d definitely taken his hair fetish in a dark direction.
“Senorita, I’m giving you one last chance.”
“Dominic, what do we do?”
Ignoring my question, he shot at the men again.
One of Skull Face’s men shouted, “They’re coming.”
The rat-a-tat-tat of the guns firing filled the air. Instinctively, I’d crouched down into a ball before realizing that either the gang had terrible aim, or they weren’t shooting at us.
“Infected must be heading their way,” Dominic said in a hushed voice.
I moved over to see around his bicep. The gang members had bunched together in a tight knot and were firing at something down the street. I could only guess that they’d attracted the attention of the horde. Good for our people back at the office complex. Bad for us.
“Ah. There you are.”
I looked up, startled to see that Skull Face was only a few dozen yards away.
His eyes were trained on me. He held his gun in one hand as his other hand finger-combed the blond ponytail tied to his belt. “Don’t be afraid. I wouldn’t hurt a beautiful woman.”
Dominic jerked me around, shielding me with his body.
That gave me an excellent view of
the zombies stumbling down the alley. They were only a building away.
We need a way out. And fast.
The strip club where I’d worked had a side exit. Maybe the saloon did too.
I scanned the wall, looking for a way in. Elation rush through me when I spotted a burgundy door that blended into the faux red brick exterior. The approaching Biters were almost to it.
“Dominic, there.” I said, pointing to what I hoped was our salvation.
He nodded, not relaxing his stance.
There was a flash of movement on the roof of the museum. My brain only had time to process a flash of white-blond hair before Dominic grabbed my wrist in a death grip and bolted to the door.
Icy cold fingers of fear tightened around my throat. “Was that…Eden?” If my sister, the super zombie, was here our chances of survival had just bottomed out.
“Move!” Dominic bellowed as he tugged me forward toward the Biters.
We arrived at the door. I jiggled the handle.
Locked! Of course. Can nothing be easy?
“Cover me,” Dominic said, turning his attention to the door.
The Biters were close enough that I could see the whites of their rolling irises. The chattering teeth drowned out the sound of the guns firing behind us.
Two Biters broke from the pack and sped up. I fired twice, hitting them both. A middle-aged man with a comb-over and a younger man still wearing cracked glasses hit the ground. I looked over at Dominic, but he was too busy trying to kick in the doorframe to appreciate my marksmanship.
“They’re getting away,” Skull Face shouted from behind the Dumpster.
The zombies are getting closer.
I shot into the advancing crowd, trying to make as many headshots as I could. Shit. I was out of ammo. I hastily reloaded. “Dominic.”
He kicked the door again. “I’m working on it.”
Something hit the pavement. I spun around.
Eden stood next to the museum wall. Her eerie white eyes tracked every movement of mine.
A part of me rejoiced at seeing her, even though I knew everything that made her my sister was gone. Impossibly, she was completely healed. The bald patches on the left side of her skull were the only indication that she’d had a portion of her head blown off. There was a rim of dried blood around her mouth. It made her look like the time she’d gotten into Gran’s lipstick as a child.
Is the blood hers, or has she already eaten someone?
Tears burned my eyes.
My baby sister.
Here but not here.
“Eden,” I couldn’t help whispering.
She cocked her head, the movement doglike. Then she lifted her head and howled an inhuman cry that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
It was the reminder I needed that there was nothing left of her. I wanted to scream. To let my anguish mingle with her chilling shriek. To give myself over to the devastating loss. But I couldn’t. Reed’s face flashed in my mind. His life and mine depended on me keeping it together.
“Dominic,” I said again, fear ratcheting my voice higher.
“I almost have it.”
The infected should’ve been on us by now. I dared a quick look down the alley.
The Biters were backing away.
They fear Eden.
She took a halting step in our direction. Then another. She sniffed the air as if puzzled.
Our pine scent must be confusing her.
“Screw it.” Dominic drew his gun and fired into the burgundy wood. A quick push, and the door splintered in. “Come on.”
Eden made a growling noise and leaped. As if in slow motion, I watched her sail through the air. Her long jagged nails reached for me.
Dominic jumped in front of me. Before I could react, he kicked her in the chest.
She flew back, twisting in the air like a cat. She landed on her feet close enough to us that I could see the beads I’d braided into her hair two nights ago.
At the same time, Skull Face rounded the Dumpster with his men trailing behind. “What’s this? Two beautiful women?” His laugh was gleeful.
Eden bared bloodstained teeth and twisted around. Catching sight of the men, she shrieked. The terrifying sound ricocheted off the alley walls.
As I fought the urge to clasp my hands over my ears, she sprang into the air and landed on top of the Dumpster lid with a thunderous clang.
Skull Face’s wide grin was replaced by a look of stark terror. “Puta madre,” he said in a choked voice as he and his men backed away.
“Go get ‘em, sis,” I said, a second before Dominic shoved me through the splintered door.
3
The momentum from Dominic’s push sent me careening into something hard and metal. Realizing it was a cart, I tried unsuccessfully to keep it from overturning. Pots and pans clattered to the ground. If there were any Biters inside, I’d just rung the dinner bell.
“Help me,” Dominic shouted.
Holstering my gun, I rushed to his side.
Together we barricaded the door using the overturned cart and several metal racks that stood as tall as Dominic.
Without the light from outside, we were left in almost complete darkness.
Someone pounded on the door.
My heart lurched in my chest. Eden?
A deep male voice shouted, “Let me in. Por favor.” The door cracked open.
It was one of the gang members.
We can’t let him in.
“Push,” Dominic ordered.
We both grabbed hold of one of the shelves and pushed.
Next to me, Dominic gritted his teeth. The tendons in his neck popped with exertion.
The door moved back and forth as we shoved, and the man shoved back.
Outside, he shouted at us in Spanish. I didn’t understand his words but their meaning was clear. He was begging for his life.
My resolve and grip on the shelves slipped.
He’ll die out there.
Dominic grimaced, having to pick up my slack.
No sympathy. He would have killed us.
Rallying my nerves, I wiped my sweaty palms on my pants and pushed again.
The man outside gave a bloodcurdling scream.
The door slammed closed. Dominic and I crashed forward.
He jumped up, but I stayed on the cold floor welcoming the punishing pinch of the metal shelves digging into my skin.
The sound of tearing flesh and zombies feeding made my stomach turn.
I’m responsible for that man’s death.
That knowledge sat in my stomach like a lead balloon.
“Get up.” Dominic jerked me to my feet and clicked on his flashlight.
I was momentarily dazzled by light reflecting off every surface. We were in a twenty-by-twenty square foot kitchen about the size of the break room at the office. Everything around us, including the counters, the cabinets, and the rows of gas ranges, was stainless steel. Thankfully, the stale air smelled faintly of Lysol and grease instead of death and decay. There didn’t appear to be Biters inside.
Dominic kicked open the swinging double doors into the front part of the restaurant and hauled me through. There was only a moment to take in the peanut shell-covered floors, saddle-topped bar stools, and the mechanical bull ride situated near the pool tables before Dominic flung me behind the bar counter. He whispered, “Stay. I’ll clear the room.” Then he was gone.
Trying not to freak out at his disappearing act, I took stock of the rows of colorful bottles lining the mirrored back of the bar.
Who needs twenty different brands of whiskey? Seriously?
The rubber floor mats were sticky and smelled of tequila and beer. In some small way, it reminded me of the strip club. Feeling more comfortable, I stretched out my legs. My knee was starting to feel numb. Refusing to consider the implications of that, I tried to rub some feeling back into it.
Needing something to clear the taste of death from my mouth, I dug around my backpac
k until I found a water bottle. Other than a flashlight, some bandages, and a bottle of water, it looked like Grady had dumped the rest of my pack.
I hope his balls still hurt.
As I zipped the pack back up, something made a rattling noise. I pulled Rosie’s pills out of the side pocket. The sight of the white bottle filled me with sadness. How I wished I could just go back and redo yesterday.
Outside, the sounds of screaming and rapid gunfire continued. Eden was putting the gang members’ assault rifles to the test. An engine roared to life and tires peeled off into the distance. At least one of the gang members had survived. I hoped it wasn’t Skull Face.
I peered around the bar counter. The view through the front windows chilled my blood. Biters flooded the street outside. My breath came in shallow gasps as I tried to count them all.
Dominic came over and knelt behind the bar counter next to me. “Relax.”
“Are you kidding?” It came out as a squeak.
He shook his head. “We’re safe for now.”
“What about Eden?”
“It probably followed the jeep. We’ll sit tight for a while. After an hour or so the area should be clear.”
It. My sister had become it. My hands shook as I pulled off my backpack.
“Do you know how your sister became a Howler?”
I cringed at the word. It brought to mind monkeys or lovesick wolves. None of those images gelled with the frightening, unstoppable creature my sister had become. “How the hell would I know? You’re the expert on all things infected. You tell me.”
The vein in his temple throbbed. “I don’t know. Don’t give me that look. I really don’t.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
He sat down across from me. “Well, Howlers are reported to be incredibly fast and strong. Unlike the other infected, they don’t need to feed as often and they retain more of their human intellect. Apparently, they’re also able to regenerate nearly all damage to their bodies.”
“How do we kill her then?” I asked in a small voice.
“Theoretically, we should just need to incapacitate the brain. That shotgun blast should have taken care of it.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully “Maybe there was enough brain matter left to regenerate. We’ll have to decapitate it next time.”
