by Sarra Cannon
She missed and bit her lip. Her hands were trembling.
Her plan backfired. The gunshot rang out through the empty streets, drawing the attention of the two dozen or so zombies all headed toward the truck. They moved faster, hungry for food.
Noah set his bat on the hood of the Humvee and took out his rifle. He aimed into the crowd and blew the head off the zombie she’d been trying to hit.
“Nice shot,” she said, impressed with his aim and steady hand. “But I think we made them mad.”
Noah flashed a brief smile and turned toward the group of rotters as they lumbered forward.
Parrish backed up, making sure none of them had moved up behind her. Together, she and Noah slowly drew the crowd away from the truck, picking off one at a time with their guns.
Parrish only hit her mark one out of three or four shots, but Noah was amazing. He never missed. Not once.
She would have told him how impressed she was except for the fact that they had more than twenty zombies heading straight for them.
Crash appeared through the roof of the Humvee and took a few shots with the machine gun he’d mounted to the top. He sprayed the crowd and more than six of the rotters fell to the ground.
Parrish cheered, but then realized that the rest of those still standing were now heading straight for the truck.
“Stop shooting. You’re drawing them back to you,” Parrish called out to him. “I’ll distract them, just get that gate open as fast as you can.”
Parrish looked around for anything that might make some noise and get the attention of the zombies heading for the truck.
Just a few feet away, a small red Ford two-door had been driven onto the sidewalk and abandoned, its door still open. She put her pistol back in its holster and grabbed her sword again. She ran up beside the small car.
This was probably the dumbest idea she’d ever had, but if they didn’t do something drastic and create a brief window to get that garage gate open, they might all die out here tonight.
“What are you doing?” Noah shouted, taking a few shots and downing two or three rotters at the front of the crowd.
She reached inside and slammed her hand down on the horn, one long bleating cry into the night. The sound echoed against the tall buildings and every rotter in the area growled and changed direction.
Noah ran toward the small red car, shooting the heads off two zombies standing in his way. They fell like ragdolls.
“What were you thinking?” he shouted, fear rushing through him. He moved in front of Parrish to shield her from the wave of zombies headed straight for them. “You’ll have every rotter in a five mile radius headed this way.”
She climbed out of the car and jumped onto the hood, sword in hand. “I know,” she said. “But it’s the only way he’s going to get that gate open. We’ll be fine. Just kill fast and don’t get bitten.”
He cursed under his breath and got to work. She was probably right, but did she have to go announcing their presence to the entire neighborhood? Couldn’t she have just beat her sword on the side of the car or something instead?
He glanced over at the Humvee and saw Crash dart from the truck toward the gate.
All they had to do was hold these things off until Crash got the Humvee inside.
Well, that and pray that he and Parrish were still alive when he did.
Noah reached for his bat, then remembered he’d left it on the hood of Crash’s truck. He secured the shotgun in the straps across his back and reached for the two guns he’d shoved inside his belt loops. The rotters were too close for any kind of long-range weapon and a shotgun was way too slow right now. He’d never tried shooting with his left hand before, but there was no better teacher than an insatiable need to survive.
He held both guns out, straightening his arms and aiming as best he could. He shot once with his right hand and then with his left. Two zombies fell to the pavement and he let out a surprised cry of relief.
“Switch places with me,” Parrish called down to him. “You can pick them off from above and I can slice and dice down there.”
He hated to put her in close range with these monsters, but it was a good plan. With any luck, he could kill most of them before they got close enough for Parrish to even need her sword.
He popped off two more shots and climbed onto the hood of the car. Parrish jumped down, her boots landing firmly on the pavement below. She put two hands on the hilt of her sword and spun around, her pigtails like whips. She took the head off a large man with a single slice.
Noah moved to the roof of the car, the metal and plastic groaning against his weight. He planted his feet firmly and started shooting into the row of rotters on the front lines of the attack. Bodies fell, but more just kept coming. The pile that formed near the car slowed the others down. They tripped and stumbled and climbed their way through, but there was nothing that would stop them. Nothing but a bullet or a blade.
Noah glanced at Crash. He’d managed to open the lock and was pushing the gate wide enough for the truck to pull through.
They didn’t have much time.
The few dozen that had been here at the start of the fight had multiplied into several hundred. Noah could see them shambling through the streets in clusters, pouring from every alley and open doorway. If he and Parrish didn’t move in the next few minutes, they would be surrounded. And he wasn’t sure how many bullets he had left in these guns.
Not enough for all of them, that much was certain.
He wished Parrish could blast these things with light like she had done back in the office building, but he had no idea how those powers had worked. Had it only been a response to the super zombies? Some kind of upper-level human evolution that no one had ever had to use before? He wanted to ask her, but the question sounded stupid in his brain. Part of him wondered if he’d just imagined it all. None of this felt real.
Still, when he looked down at her, he noticed a faint blue glow around the blade of her sword. Whatever these powers were, she was using them in some way now, even without the super-zombies here.
A sick feeling twisted his stomach.
Unless they were close. What if there were more of those things heading their way right now?
He scanned the crowd, searching their eyes as he aimed for the sweet spot in the middle of their foreheads. He didn’t see any glowing eyes, but he had the uneasy feeling that they were in a lot more danger than they realized. Were they being watched?
The engine of the Humvee revved as Crash pulled through the gate. Noah caught Parrish’s eye and took a few more shots before he jumped down from the roof of the car.
“Let’s go,” he shouted.
The horde of rotters had already formed a circle around the red car and he had to crouch as Parrish swung toward the closest one. Its head made the most disgusting squish as it fell at Noah’s feet. He stumbled backward, and before he could catch himself, a rotter seized him from behind. Brittle nails cracked against his skin as the zombie grabbed him and pulled him further back, off his feet. His head smacked against the pavement as another reached him and collapsed at his side, drool pouring from its open mouth.
Noah screamed and closed his eyes as the first rotter grabbed his arm and bit down.
Crash threw the Humvee into gear and sped into the garage. He jumped out and ran toward the gate, ready to help Parrish and Noah get inside before it closed.
Fear pulsed through him as Noah’s scream echoed off the nearby buildings. Crash reached inside the cab of the Humvee for his gun.
“What’s happening?” Karmen yelled, her shrill voice filled with terror.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Stay here.”
“Wait, don’t—”
He slammed the door on her words. He pulled the gate closed as best he could, leaving just enough room to squeeze through to the outside. If he didn’t come back, at least the girls would be safe in there for now.
Crash peppered the area with machine-gun fire as he rushed
over to where a mob of rotters had descended on Noah’s body.
Shit, man. This was all his fault. He hadn’t moved fast enough to get the truck inside. He hadn’t planned this whole thing out enough, and now one of their group was down. After all his work and planning to get the five of them together, he couldn’t believe he was about to watch one of them die just a few feet from safety.
Parrish kicked two of the rotters off Noah’s body, then spun around, sword in hand. With a furious strength, she sliced through five more of the zombies feeding on Noah. Her sword glowed with a dim blue light that left tracers in the darkness.
Crash’s heart pounded so hard he could feel it in his throat. Apparently this chick had things under control as far as Noah was concerned, so Crash turned and started spraying the approaching mob with gunfire.
“Help me get him up,” she shouted when she’d killed all the ones biting at Noah. Her voice was stern and wild and commanding.
Crash shot off a few more bursts of bullets then reached down to grab Noah’s outstretched hand.
He was still alive. But for how long?
Crash had seen plenty of videos over the past few weeks. He knew that even if someone seemed to be immune to the virus itself, a bite from one of those things would kill even the strongest men. And once they died—
“Move. Now,” Parrish shouted.
Noah was on his feet and he threw one arm over each of their shoulders as they ran toward the gate.
Growls and moans and footsteps followed them, but Crash didn’t dare look back. All he cared about was getting them inside. God help Noah once they got there, though. He wouldn’t have much time before he turned.
Parrish was not going to take it well when they had to put him down. Crash wasn’t sure what their relationship was to each other, but he could see it in her eyes. She cared about this guy. She wasn’t going to let him go without a fight.
They reached the gate and Karmen pushed it open just far enough for the three of them to slip inside.
“I told you to stay in the truck,” he said.
“Last I checked, I don’t take orders from you,” she said.
Crash’s eyes lingered on the blonde’s long tanned legs. Man, if they weren’t all doomed here, he would have liked to stand there a few minutes and appreciate the view. She was hot, and she had attitude.
Just the way he liked it.
He propped Noah against the wall next to the gate and pulled it closed just as the group of hungry rotters reached them. He closed the three locks on the fence and moved back, a dozen bloody hands reaching through the chain links toward him.
He breathed in relief and rested against the bumper of the truck, his stomach turning as he glanced over at Noah.
He’d barely gotten the chance to know the guy and now this. What a shit show.
“Help me,” Parrish said. She lowered Noah onto the ground a safe distance away from the gate and tore at his shirt to get a better look at his wounds. “Do you have water? Bandages? What can we do?”
Crash opened the back door of the Humvee and pulled himself into the back of the truck to look for the first-aid kit he’d stowed inside.
The new girl just sat there in the middle of the truck, a blank expression on her face.
Crash eyed her, but she didn’t look up. Her hands were shaking.
He motioned to the space below her. “I think I stashed the first-aid kit under that seat,” he said.
Her eyes lifted to him and she nodded, sliding across the bench to get out of his way. Something in her eyes caused a strange chill to run down his spine. Crash shrugged it off and grabbed the backpack he’d loaded with bandages, alcohol, and other first-aid supplies.
“What happened?” Karmen asked from behind him.
He tossed the bag over his shoulder and turned to Karmen. She was staring at Noah, her arms wrapped around her body tightly. Her beautiful face was marred with tears, black eye-liner dripping down her cheeks.
“Is he hurt?”
Crash made a face. “Noah’s bit,” he said.
Karmen gasped and her eyes widened. She pulled a hand to her mouth. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked, looking to Parrish. “He’ll be okay, right?”
“I don’t know,” Parrish said. She held an impatient hand toward Crash.
He unzipped the top of the bag and pulled out a bottle of alcohol and a wad of cotton bandages. He handed them to her. “Look, Parrish, I don’t know that there’s anything you can do for him.”
Her violet eyes flashed with anger and she snatched the supplies from his hand. “He’s going to be fine,” she said. “We just need to hurry.”
Crash swallowed. It didn’t look good. Noah’s clothes and chest were smeared with blood.
He crouched at Noah’s side as Parrish doused one of the bandages in alcohol. He shook his head. Alcohol wasn’t going to do shit. It was already too late.
He kept his mouth shut, though, knowing he needed to just let Parrish do whatever she could to make herself come to terms with this. He kept one hand on the extra handgun he’d slipped into the back of his jeans.
Just in case.
Noah’s eyes were open, but he wasn’t talking. His chest rose and fell with each deep, terrified breath.
Parrish took his arm in her hand and wiped the alcohol-soaked bandage across a bloody spot on his arm. “It’s going to be okay, you hear me?” she said. “Just hang in there. We’re going to—”
Her voice cut off and she stared down at Noah’s arm.
Crash frowned and leaned forward to see whatever it was she was looking at. He expected to see a large bite mark or decaying skin, but instead, there was nothing. It was clean.
“What?” Noah asked, sitting up a little. He held his arm up to the light and shook his head. He ran his other hand across his skin. “I don’t understand. I felt them bite into me. Here.” He pulled up his shirt on the left side. His clothes were torn and the side of his torso was caked in dark blood.
Parrish picked up the alcohol and poured it over the spot. She used a clean bandage to wipe the blood away.
Crash stared in awe. He sat back on his heels, his mouth hanging open. There wasn’t a single mark on this guy. How was that even possible? He’d been covered in rotters. There’s no way anyone could survive that.
Noah continued to point out spots where he’d felt teeth sink into his skin, but as he and Parrish worked to clean the wounds, they couldn’t find a single bite mark. Crash stared at them, shaking his head.
Parrish threw her arms around Noah’s neck and he slowly pulled her into a hug, his eyes dazed as he stared past her.
Crash stood. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I saw them. They were all over you. How is it possible there’s not a single bite on you?”
Noah shook his head and released Parrish so he could stand up. “I have no idea,” he said. “I swear I could feel them biting me. Maybe my clothes protected me?”
Crash ran a hand through his long, black hair. It didn’t make sense. He’d seen rotters tear a person apart. Normal jeans and t-shirts weren’t going to suddenly act like a suit of armor. How was this possible?
A crowd of zombies pushed against the chain-link gate, their moans growing louder. They were going to draw too many of those things if they didn’t get inside. The gate was strong, but if a couple hundred rotters started pushing on it, it would cave.
“We should get inside,” he said. “The longer we stand here, the angrier those things are going to get. Let’s get settled in the apartment and we can take a closer look.”
He headed toward the truck to grab the rest of his guns and ammo, but threw a sideways glance at Noah. Was it even safe to let him come inside with them? What if there was a bite they hadn’t found?
He would have to remember to keep a close eye on the guy for a while. He’d never seen or heard of anything like this happening before, and he didn’t want to take any chances. Especially now that he had three other girls here to take care of.
Crash turned back toward the Humvee to find the girl with the long black hair just standing there, watching them. She didn’t look scared. Not really. She just looked…interested. Curious. When she saw him staring at her, she smiled.
A shiver went up his spine. Who smiles at a time like this?
He raised an eyebrow and reached past her to grab some more of their supplies from the truck. “Grab what you can and wait for me by the door.”
He motioned toward the metal door that led to the stairwell and moved up to the front so he could pull the truck into a safer parking spot farther away from the gate. There were still a lot of cars parked down here, but most of the residents of his building had packed up and tried to get the heck out of town a week or so ago. He wondered how many of them had actually made it out of the city. And where in the world they thought they could go to escape all this.
The virus was everywhere by now. In just a matter of weeks, it had spread from coast to coast, country to country. The entire world was infected. No one knew how many were dead. Or how many had come back as those rotting things pulling on the gate out there.
He swallowed and parked the Humvee across four empty spaces on the far side of the garage. All that mattered now was that the five of them were safe. For whatever reason, they’d survived despite everything. He’d dreamed of them before the virus even hit, and now Noah was alive even though he’d been bitten. Something greater was at work here, and Crash was determined to figure it out.
They were alive, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it stayed that way.
His hands were shaking.
What the hell had just happened? The moment he’d lost his balance, he had known it was over for him. He’d literally felt teeth sink into his skin.
How was he still alive?
Noah’s heart raced. He wanted to get inside and strip down in the bathroom to see if he could find a wound they’d missed. There was no way that many rotters had been on top of him and none of them had managed to actually bite him.
