by Lisa Acerbo
“Where is she?” Caleb’s voice echoed through the house.
“Here! In the bedroom!” Her horse scream filled the room.
David grabbed a serrated knife and headed to the door but didn’t make it to the entrance.
Caleb, face transformed by fear and anger, entered. His eyes had turned demonic, pupils and irises black-red void contrasting against his ghostly translucent, skin. He pounced liked a rabid wolf, ramming David in the chest with a fist and grabbing his other wrist.
Jenna heard the crunch of bones. The knife clattered to the ground.
Caleb picked up the knife and hacked at the other man’s chest. Ribbons of flesh mixed with blood on the floor. Every footstep they took, puckered with the liquid gore. The man she loved raised the knife and sliced.
David wobbled, his hands flying to cover the spray of blood weeping from the wound.
The dark liquid poured from his neck, but with fierce resolve, the New Racer slammed into Caleb’s shoulders, forcing him on one knee, the knife skittered across the floor.
Jenna compelled herself to stand and pitched herself into David’s back, knocking him off guard, causing all three to fall. Caleb threw the man off and grabbed the knife, but he didn’t need it.
David barely clung to life, but Caleb grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up. He finished the work he had started, decapitating the man, and lobbing his head across the room.
“Did he hurt you?”
Her eyes focused on the headless corpse on the floor. “What did you just do?”
“Took care of the problem.”
“You are efficient.” She pulled her eyes away to meet his.
“Stop avoiding my question. Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride for being unable to escape on my own. I kind of suck at being a hostage.”
“I’m sure you did just fine.”
“I’d rate my performance a D+”
“You’re a tough taskmaster, but I knew that. Kind of sexy.”
Jenna sent him a weak smile. “Are you trying to make it all better?”
“Is it working?”
She shrugged. “A little. Be a lot better if you got around to untying my hands. I can’t feel my fingers.”
Caleb worked the knots. Shouts and animal sounds moved closer. Aiko and Quentin forced Tundra and Gunnar into the bedroom.
Caleb jumped to his feet to do battle. Jenna joined his side.
Aiko was bloody.
Not so beautiful now. Jenna was unable to determine whether it was her blood or someone else’s.
Quentin staggered in behind her. He was wounded, barely able to stand, but wielded a knife. He pitched sideways and then sank in the doorway.
“I need a weapon.” Jenna crawled toward his slumped form.
Caleb blocked her. “I got nothing but the knife.”
“Give it here. You’ve got your super-human strength.”
“Quentin needs you more.”
She started towards the wounded man, but the fury of fighting left her without a path.
Caleb hoisted the serrated blade.
Madness radiated from Tundra, who screamed out with each thrust of the hatchet.
“We could have ruled the new world.” Tundra slashed at the air in front of Aiko, holding the woman at bay.
Aiko parried. “I came to realize I wouldn’t want you in charge.” A gash running down her side, dripped dark blood.
Caleb moved in front, becoming a buffer. “Got to agree with Aiko on that one.”
Tundra hissed and cleaved the hatchet she held. “You’re both dead and that little human bitch is bound for an early grave unless, she returns as something fouler than her stupid mouth.”
Jenna searched for a weapon. Anything to beat the woman’s brains out with. “Just because you don’t get my sense of humor, doesn’t mean you should put it down. Take all types.”
“Nope.” Aiko moved to Caleb’s side and swung at Tundra. “I think we can definitely do without her type.”
Tundra was a strong fighter, even against two opponents. She thrusted and countered her opponents moves. Lines of red began to crisscross Caleb’s and Aiko’s arms and chest.
Gunnar, who until this moment stood on the sidelines, kicked Quentin’s slouched body aside and grabbed Aiko’s arms, pinning them behind her.
Tundra sidestepped Caleb and sliced into the woman’s side, burying the weapon there just as Gunnar let Aiko go, and she slipped to the floor. The weapon clattered next to her.
Gunnar and Tundra turned to Caleb. Jenna forced herself into action, grabbing the only weapon close, a discarded plank of wood. She ran forward, swinging the timber. Tundra ducked the blow and backhanded her.
“I’m not done with you.” A fist smashed against Jenna’s cheek and again into her mouth. Red dots overtook her vision, then she crashed into the wall.
Caleb pounced on the woman. The two collapsed, and he pounded Tundra’s head to the floor, but her hands went for his face, fingers ready to gouge out his eyes. His hands found her neck, but she broke his grasp, jumped, and stood above him.
Jenna crawled along the floor, found the hatchet Tundra had arrived with and stood on wobbling legs. She pitched herself forward, and the hatchet landed square in Tundra’s back.
“I guess it’s too late to bury the hatchet between us,” Jenna said. “Bitch.” Tundra’s hand reached behind her, attempting to pull out the offending weapon. A gurgle escaped her lips, and she crashed to the floor.
Caleb faced Gunnar. Fear registered in the man’s eyes. Lost without Tundra’s directives, Gunnar backed out of the room, turned, and fled into the night. Caleb followed.
Jenna inhaled twice, taking in the moment of silence.
The boom of cracking wood had her straining to see what had arrived.
Glass shattered in the next room and footsteps crunched over the broken splinters.
What had once been a tall, middle-aged man in a business suit, was now a bloated corpse in rags crusted over with blood and pus.
The baked-by-the-sun Streaker wore a wrinkled face with the consistency of an old raisin. His right arm hung limply, dislodged from the socket, but both hands made continual grabbing motions. Lacking any grace, the creature staggered to the bedroom door and stopped. It sniffed, searching out its next meal.
Blood poured from Jenna’s lip, where Tundra had hit her. She wiped it away, then retrieving the piece of wood. Sensing the movement, the Streaker turned its undead eyes on her. Some of its skull had been torn away, exposing the rot. It lumbered and stumbled over the chair in its path, giving Jenna desperate seconds to ready herself.
Arm raised, eyes dead and unblinking, it came, dancing with death. It reached out to grab her.
Jenna ducked, then swung low and hard.
“I must have gone brain dead. I can’t think of one good zombie joke right now.”
The creature staggered back, but then surged forward. Jenna rammed the edge of the board into its stomach.
“No comeback from the undead. There’s a no brainer.”
It writhed against the constant pressure of the wood. A trail of intestines spurted out, staining the tattered remains of clothing.
Jenna gagged at the stench. “You, my good sir, are too gross for words.”
The undead groaned, plowing forward. Decaying brains leaking from its nostrils and eyes.
“That all you got for me?” She stepped back, hoisting the board, and swung. The head of the creature flew sideways, but it continued forward, emaciated fingers scratching. She drove the Streaker over to the left with a repeated, steady swing. The wood sank into a shallow layer of skin covering the undead’s overripe, bloated belly.
Upon Caleb’s return, he moved to Jenna’s side. She stepped back and leaned against the window. Caleb, hatchet in hand, forced the Streaker into a corner. A noise at the window had her spinning around. A hand shot through the glass and into the room to claw at Jenna’s face.
Outside in the darkness, lifele
ss eyes found her.
The undead rammed against the window, spraying glass. Jenna stepped away, and seconds later, a loud crack caused splintered wood and glass to fall to the floor along with pieces of the zombie’s fingers. With a catatonic stare, the Streaker pushed through the opening, tearing its flesh against the jagged edges of the frame.
Jenna flashed back to the cigarettes and matches she saw in the room. Fire was exactly what she needed now. She searched for the matchbook that had laid on the floor, but the room was in disarray thanks to the fight.
Something bumped behind her, and panic rose inside her. Dropping to her belly, scanning the floor, her fingers reached under the bed.
She snagged the small, cardboard matchbook and hauled it out of the darkness. Gathering the discarded magazines, fingers shaking, she twisted a match from the book and lit it.
A small flame burned, and she put the edge of the magazine to it. The dried pages flared instantly.
Caleb, still battled in the corner, but Jenna had no time to help him.
A pale sea of rotted flesh and decay advanced on her. Against her own survival instinct, she let the putrid beast come close enough to hear the gnashing of its blackened teeth.
A boney hand reached for her, and she let the burning magazine ignite the rags barely covering gangrenous limbs. It pawed at her arm. The burning magazine arched toward its mouth. With desperate strength, Jenna twisted to free herself. Sizzling flesh indicated the flame worked to devour the undead’s ear.
Black lips smacked her shoulder, and Jenna wrenched free, shoving the remains of the burning magazine into the Streaker’s face.
As quick as tinder, the Streaker ignited. The creature turned in circles, unable to comprehend its own burning body. The overpowering smell of charcoaled flesh filled the room.
Jenna dropped to the floor, rolled out of the way, and joined Caleb. The room erupted in flames.
“We need to move now. Grab Quentin. I’ll get Aiko,” Jenna shouted.
With a final surge of strength, Jenna ran to Aiko. Caleb shoved the Streaker he’d been battling into the burning corpse. Both bodies tumbled to the floor, igniting the remains of the bed.
“Move.” Caleb lifted an unconscious Quentin as if he weighed nothing.
Stumbling, dragging Aiko, ash-laden fumes filling her nose, Jenna exited the bedroom, dense smoke hindered her vision.
Rancid odors from charred corpses and dense flames overwhelmed Jenna’s senses. She followed Caleb, dragging Aiko into the darkness.
Once outside, Caleb lowered Quentin to the ground, and then staggered over to Aiko. Jenna searched for a pulse in Quentin’s neck. The suffocating heat from the burning house billowed and caused her to hack.
With her touch, Quentin stirred.
“You scared me.” She ripped off her sweatshirt, pushing fabric against the worst of his still bleeding wounds.
“I had to save my bestie, right?”
“I’m sorry for everything.” Jenna forced Quentin’s hand down on the fabric. “Hold this tightly. I’ll be right back.”
Unsure if he’d passed out again, she moved away to check on the others. The sight of them made her want to weep.
Aiko had a large gash in her stomach and side. For any human, the wounds would have meant instant death.
Caleb kneeled next to the silent, injured New Racer. As Jenna bent to console him, she spotted a long, ragged gash weeping blood.
Applying pressure, her hands seeped red. “You’re injured.”
“I’ll be fine. Let me help Aiko.” Caleb shouldered Jenna aside and kept pressure on Aiko’s stomach.
“What should I do?” Jenna asked. “We have to get them back to the inn for care.”
“It was Aiko who told us where you were. She came clean about Tundra’s plan to kill you and turn against all humans. If it wasn’t for her, you’d be dead.”
“Why are you telling me this? We have to get them back to Emma.”
“You’re the only one who can help her. She’ll die if you don’t offer her some blood. Quentin’s lost too much. He can’t.” Caleb attempted to stand, staggered, and sank to a knee.
“You’re hurt, too.” Jenna stepped to his side.
God damn it. Can’t help anyone. Useless. Must give them both what they need.
“I’ll be fine,” Caleb said.
“Don’t lie to me. Are you asking me to make a choice—your life or Aiko’s? I won’t do it. I won’t let you die on me.”
“You don’t have a choice. I won’t live if it means letting Aiko die.”
“You’ll both have to do it. You both have to drink from me.”
“It could kill you.”
“I don’t care. If you both don’t do it, I refuse.” She met Caleb’s eyes. “I can’t live in this world without you.”
“You have to.”
“Not when there’s an option. You’ll both die out here if you don’t drink.”
“Only enough to survive and make it back to the inn.”
“Whatever you need. I’d rather be dead than without you.”
Jenna nestled between them, holding out a small pocketknife. She offered both wrists in sacrifice. The knife stung. It dug into her flesh. She moved her hand toward Aiko, who sensed the blood. The New Racer’s teeth latched on, digging in—the pain intense.
After a moment, she offered her other arm to Caleb. He kissed her wrist and then the pain of tearing flesh.
Jenna swayed and tried to focus on a part of her body not in pain. She noticed a mark.
Was it a bruise or a bite? Could the Streaker have bit her when she torched it?
That was her last thought before the world went black.
23
Jenna woke in her bed back at the inn, confused and disoriented. A hammer pounded in her head. Caleb sat at her side, and when she saw him, the memories rushed back.
“How’d we get here?” Jenna’s throat felt parched. She signaled for water. When he handed her the glass, she guzzled the liquid.
“Welcome back. I was able to go for help. Emma and the crew drove out and rescued us.”
“How long have I been out?”
“Three days.” Caleb grasped Jenna’s hand. “I’m so happy you’re awake.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Worried is the understatement of the year.”
“What happened?”
“Aiko saved you. She overheard Tundra debating what to do with you. None of the options were good.” Caleb’s sad smile relieved a little of the pressure in Jenna’s pounding temple. “She went to Quentin with the information.”
“Lilly told me Aiko and Tundra were planning on trying to turn New Racers at the inn against the humans.”
“True. We learned about her plan from Lilly and Mack. Aiko might have liked the idea of it, but not the reality. She has real feelings for Quentin. A lot of her anger against you has been from jealousy. When she realized Tundra kidnapped you, she was ready to mount a war.”
Jenna narrowed her eyes. “Not sure I believe it.”
“Truth. As soon as they came to me, we set out. Quentin was also smart enough to let Lilly know what we were doing, and Lilly went straight to Peter.”
“How did you find me?”
“It wasn’t too hard. Tundra and her group wouldn’t venture too far from the inn. There’s just not enough gas and resources. They wouldn’t want to go closer to town where there might be the chance of running into a lot of Streakers. We found the vehicle they stole and tracked it.”
“How’d you do it?”
“It’s amazing what you can do when motivated.” Caleb frowned. “They were at one of the houses in the woods.”
“You found me.” Jenna traced a near-healed wound on Caleb’s cheek. “That’s what matters. You were there when I needed you.”
“Thank God we found you. Do you remember the rest?”
“Most of it. The three of you fought against Tundra and her sidekicks.” Jenna stiffened. “How are Aiko and Quentin? Are they okay?”
“Both doing better. Aiko was fine after you gave her some blood. You saved her, and she’s grateful.”
“Better be.”
Caleb laughed. “She appreciates it. Really. She’s been less than friendly to you because of her feelings and those Quentin still has for you. She needs a good therapist, but they are in short supply.”
“Even after the apocalypse, some things don’t change.”
“Aiko would never tell you this. It’s our secret, she was jealous of you.”
The pain in her head ramped to jackhammer levels. She closed her eyes and continued to listen. “Go on.”
“Quentin was injured but on the mend. I’m sure he’d love you to visit soon.”
“I’ll go see him, but tired now. I’ll nap for a little bit.” Jenna slipped into sleep even while willing herself to stay awake.
The moonlit shadows painted ghosts throughout the room. The nightmare had returned.
“Jenna!”
Wraithlike forms closed in on her and something prowled. As much as Jenna searched, it hid, preferring the shadows.
“You can’t help me now. Something wicked is inside you.”
Trapped in the tangle of blankets, she tried to sit. The bed sheets turned into hands, clutching her, pulling her into the fabric, and skeletal fingers dug into her flesh. She pushed them away, but her hands were useless and rotting. Shooting up, shifting into consciousness, Jenna sucked in labored breaths.
The dream. What did it mean?
She slid back down on to the mattress and yanked the covers over her head to ease the throbbing pain. Upon awakening, Lilly sat next to the bed.
The acidic scent from fingernail polish laced the air. When Jenna moved, the woman squealed with joy and leaned over to give her a huge hug, wet nails, and all.
“You’re awake.” Lilly’s cheerful words rang loud. “You’ve been sleeping on and off for days, and Caleb’s been guarding the door like a rabid dog. He wouldn’t let anyone in until you woke yesterday. I’ve been here since morning.”
“What time is it?” Jenna asked.
“Late afternoon. Do you remember waking yesterday when Caleb was here?”
